A Chance for Sunny Skies (8 page)

First, he set a soda and silverware set on old lady Braidy Bags' table. Then he deposited the other, identical looking set on my table.

"Your pizzas should be out in a few minutes." He directed his words in the direction of us, as if... as if we ordered the same thing. My neck heated up and my tiny-feeling lungs began to ache in a scratchy, suffocating way.

This was nothing. Merely a coincidence. I needed to calm down. Suddenly, I remembered Lizzy's yoga class earlier. Even though I had all but given up on New Sunny, this situation called for some intense refocusing, some zenning-the-crap-out. I held my hands under the table and situated them into live-long-and-prospers. I pulled in breath, let it out, pulled in more. I turned my focus on the artwork hanging on the dark walls, the planets of our solar system as represented by pizzas. Ha. I chuckled. Clever, Pizza Planet. After about a minute of this, I felt like I'd traded up to pre-teen lungs. Still not great, but an improvement.

I pulled the soda the waiter had  put in front of me closer. Maneuvering the long straw into my mouth, I began to slurp the delicious fizzy drink into my mouth, down my throat, and past my hot-and-bothered lungs. My eyes closed out of appreciation. I kept my lips puckered on the end of the straw as I pulled on the cold liquid. This was better. This was heaven. My eyes smiled as I nodded my head and shimmied my shoulders to the music playing over the radio.

Movement caught my eye. Braidy Bags leaned over her drink, puckering as she sucked it up through her straw. Her shoulders bobbed up and down, back and forth to the music.

I sputtered and coughed as some of the icy liquid went down the part of my trachea meant for breathing, not for fizzy liquid. Despite my cold drink, heat gathered on my face like a fire-beard. I narrowed my eyes, pushed the glass away from me, and sat back in my booth, avoiding her with my eyes. That was the moment I realized, even though I'd been all-but-staring at her, she had yet to notice me. Notice anyone, in fact. The waiter walked by, on his way to deliver an order of food and the old lady cowered, her shoulders hunching forward like Gollum, like me. A thought crowded my mind.

Braidy Bags was me. I was her. That was my... future.

Could this be the purpose of my vision? To show me what could happen as some sort of warning? Or was it telling me this was the inevitable? The thought sent a shiver down my spine and I wiggled in discomfort.

My brain wanted to reject the idea, chuck it far away, like a toddler who's done playing with a toy. Waiter kid sauntered over, carrying another tray high above his head, balanced on his fingertips. He set it down on a stand in one smooth swoop, kicking the stand open and letting the tray touch down on top at just the right moment. I smiled at him because it was probably the only cool thing he could do.

When I looked at the tray I got all flustered again and my lungs tightened. I tried to look away, to keep my breathing steady as he picked from two identical looking cheese pizzas. He placed one across the aisle with Braidy Bags and the other in front of me. I feigned a thank you and promised myself to look straight forward from then on, not looking right or left (or right).

My fingers closed over my knife and fork, I served myself a piece of the steamy, stringy, gooey pizza, and I started cutting. I liked to get the whole piece cut up before I started eating. The distraction of the job at hand was great. I was focused... until. Until my eyes caught movement to my right I just couldn't ignore. I slid my eyes to look at the old lady. She was cutting up her pizza, the whole slice all at once, like me.

My stomach turned over and I looked back at my meal, now wholly unappetizing. I pushed it forward and wrangled thirty bucks out of my wallet. I placed it on the table, gathered my bags, and stood up.

It was then that she noticed me. She looked up, met my eyes. It isn't what you're thinking; there wasn't any electricity or magical connection or deep understanding that passed between us. It was the opposite. There was nothing. Her eyes were empty. The lines in her face each seemed to hold their own sad story of lonely nights, solitary weekends, single meals. They all added up to a life-time of nothing.

I couldn't end up like this.

I left the restaurant. Something in my heart told me it was okay, that I didn't need to talk to her; I had learned all I needed to learn from this vision. Unlike the Green Shoe Guy, when I left Braidy Bags, I didn't feel like I'd let anyone down (not even myself).

The moment Green Shoe Guy came back into my mind, I knew what I had to do. Certainty coursed through my veins, giving my blood more oomph, making me stand up straight again. Gerald sat waiting in the parking lot. As I approached, it felt like he asked, "Where to, Sunny? What's next?"

I got in and sat for a second before saying, "I have to find him." My words hung in the quiet air of my car as I sat there, thinking of a plan.

"Does Lizzy teach that class everyday?" I asked Rainy.

Gerald had taken me to the tea shop after my planning session. My plan had started out being that I would eat my lunch at that spot on the street everyday, but after a few moments of thinking that over, I realized the creep-factor was like through the roof. What if his building was nearby and he saw me waiting for him? I could hear the Psycho-stabby-violin music in my mind. No. I'd have to find another way. Where could I go every day at lunch that would put me on that same route? Well, I had been on my way to yoga when I met him today. My lungs tingled as I pulled in a deep breath. If I went to yoga everyday at lunch, that would give me a chance to run into him, sans the murdery creepo vibe
.

Rainy tipped her head to the side then shook it slightly. "Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays," she said.

The answer pierced at my heart. Only three days to look for him? That didn't seem like enough. The image of Braidy Bags made me feel woozy and made this whole thing feel way more urgent. I needed to find him.

"I think Jewel teaches some kind of Pilates class on Tuesdays and Thursdays." Rainy pressed her lips together as she tried to remember the details.

The hard stabs of disappointment changed to tiny prickles of excitement and my heart felt light again. I could do Pilates. This plan
would
work. I smiled, wrapped my fingers tight around my hot mug of tea, and sat back into conversation with Rainy. We chatted about people from the class that afternoon, laughed about my interaction with Ken (Rainy gave me a few much-better "gems" to use on him next time), and then she consoled me about my affected work performance.

She waved a hand at me. "It's a job. Jobs aren't lives. If those pricks can't fix a few of your mistakes, screw 'em."

My lungs tightened at her words because even though I was a temp, even though there was not much to my job (I mean, a monkey couldn't do it, but we were getting pretty close), and even though no one really remembered that I worked there, it was my safety net. It was the best job I'd found for dealing with my affliction to people. It helped me stay a hermit.

My eyes opened wide. My job was another thing pushing me toward a Braidy Bags existence.

So I smiled and said, "Screw 'em." Rainy nodded in response. We giggled and moved onto lighter subjects until some customers walked in and I waved a goodbye to my friend. On the drive home, my brain worked overtime. Earlier, sitting at the pizza place, my whole day had seemed lost, my life over. Simply talking to a friend about it made everything not-so-bad. Laughing with Rainy about how I'd reacted to Ken made me feel silly about the defeat I'd let swallow me.

"He's an ass," Rainy had said. "Why the hell do you care what he thinks?"

She was right. I could do this. The sureness of it all spread through my limbs and brought back my better posture, brought back the New Sunny from earlier. I'd made a mistake when I'd run away from Green Shoe Guy, but apparently the universe knew that would happen. Braidy Bags had always been in the visions, right after the green shoe. The universe had always known I would need a boot in the butt to keep me going.

I gripped the steering wheel tight, tight, tight as I pulled into my apartment complex. Tomorrow would be a new day. Maybe even
the
day.

Well, it wasn't
the
day. My walk to the yoga studio garnered zero Green Shoe Guy sightings.

I changed and got myself ready for class, only mostly disappointed. While I set up my mat and chatted with the girls (I know! I made small talk with Anna without freaking out), Lizzy walked up to us, her face glowing.

"Hey girls, I want you to meet my mom. She's in town and she's going to do the class with us today." Lizzy stepped aside and an older version of her stepped up.

Lizzy's mom appeared to be in her fifties and her blond hair had streaks of whitish-gray throughout. Unlike Lizzy's short hair, which she kept up in a small ponytail for class, her mother's was long, braided in a neat plait down her back. Her face was warm, wrinkled, and I got the distinct feeling that she rarely stopped smiling. Like her daughter, she was petite and exuded warmth.

"Nice to meet you girls. Elizabeth has told me so much about you." She pulled each of us into a hug and said our names as she did, even me. Lizzy had told her about me. My heart felt warm and not just because I hadn't flinched once when she hugged me.

Lizzy rolled her eyes and said, "Mom, I told you not to call me Elizabeth." Even with the attitude, the exchange seemed playful and her mom pulled her into a hug next. She sighed. "I'm so glad to have you here."

Then we each took our places, Lizzy at the front of the room and us on our respective mats. Anna and Rainbow were smiling and looking happy for our friend, but as much as I tried, I couldn't pull the corners of my mouth up enough to feign a smile. Thoughts of my own mother came at me like a thousand knives. I flinched inwardly as each thought cut deep, each memory held only hurt and disappointment. I didn't have any experience with my mother like what I had just witnessed with Lizzy and hers. Not one.

Not for lack of trying, either. I mean, it's why I still went to holidays at her house and why I still called her (admittedly, not enough). I always thought, "This might be the day she decides she likes me, that she stops blaming me for Dad leaving, that she realizes I'm worth it." Mothers love their children, right? Always. Even if they don't know how to show it. There was a hope inside me that she just didn't know how.

Thinking of her made my chest tight instead of open as Lizzy started class with a Ujjayi breathing exercise. Her mom tiptoed up to where she sat and tucked a loose hair behind Lizzy's ear. Everyone laughed. Well, except for me. Don't get me wrong. I was happy for Lizzy. She was becoming my friend now. I liked her and wanted good things for her. I just couldn't quite get over everything in my head to show it.

Besides, it wasn't like I didn't have
any
memories that included someone being motherly. Nanny Marie did that kind of stuff, but I only had her until I was seven. Then she was gone from my life, and soon after that, gone from life at all when she passed away after a heart attack. I know it wasn't her choice to pass away, but I still carried feelings of abandonment around with me, feelings that mostly stayed invisible and not-a-big-deal until times like this.

I made it through most of the yoga class. I made it through Lizzy and her mom laughing together about that time Uncle Joe tried to do the happy baby pose. I made it through the way Lizzy's mom looked at her like my mother never had. Toward the end, when she told Lizzy how proud she was, I had to get out of there. I excused myself, grabbed my bag of workout clothes, and left without changing.

Once outside, I sat on a bench and pulled out my phone. I scrolled through my contacts and stopped when I landed on "Bunny". My heart stung with confusion. There wasn't hate in my heart for my mother, exactly, there just wasn't much of anything.

I don't know, the whole almost drowning fiasco, the signs from the universe, all of it seemed to be telling me that I had been doing things all wrong. What if I had pushed her away like all the other people? What if she wasn't that bad? Maybe my mind vilified her so it was easier to keep her at a distance. The only thing that I could say for certain in the last few weeks was that I had been wrong about a lot of stuff. Maybe my relationship with my mother was part of that long list.

Things had been going so well, now that I had the universe on my side. If I was ever going to try this, now was the time.  Heck, maybe this was even the answer to the evil "why me?" question that bugged me day and night. Maybe the universe wanted me to have a relationship with her. I took a deep breath and pressed send. The ring sounded shrill and terrifying, but I tried to steady my heartbeat and stayed on the line.

"Hello?" My mother's voice made me cringe (out of habit), but I let my shoulders fall and wiggled my neck back and forth.

I closed my eyes and focused on the end product, on having what I had always wanted.

"Hi, mother. It's Sunny."

There was no light laugh or hint of a smile through her tone as she said, "Oh, Sunny. Well. We haven't heard from you in quite a while." She sounded flat and proper, like she could be talking to me or the mayor or the people who walked her precious dog.

She was right. I hadn't seen her for a few months, even though she only lived up the valley a half hour's drive. I didn't make much of an effort anymore, at least not as much as I used to, but neither did she. My teeth gritted together, but I shook it off and bit my lip to keep myself focused.

"I was wondering if you had time for lunch anytime in the --"

"I'll be in town for Vaughn's grooming appointment in the morning and I will be dining at La Chèvre at eleven thirty. You may join me there."

"Oh, that would be...." I trailed off as I realized she'd already hung up. I put my phone and my hands in my lap and tried to breathe.

I felt someone sit next to me and I looked up. Rainy watched me with her light blue eyes and tucked a piece of her blond hair back into the headband she wore. "Who was that?" She pointed at my phone.

I shook my head. "Lunch appointment for tomorrow."(I wasn't trying to be cold, appointment really did feel like the most descriptive word for anything that happened with my mother, even if I was trying to patch things up.) When Rainy cocked her head to the side in a you're-not-getting-off-that-easy way, I rolled my eyes and added, "With Bunny."

Rainy giggled. "And when did you start having lunch with porn stars?" She watched my face. "Or members of the royal family?" She searched me some more. "An actual animal?" She squinted, out of guesses.

"She's my mother." The word hung in the air and would until the next day at lunch.

I arrived at my mother's favorite French restaurant ten minutes early, because Bunny Skies loves to make people wait for her, but will absolutely not tolerate having to do it herself. She wasn't there yet, but I got a table and sipped on my water as I looked around the white, marbled, elegant building. Unlike most of the restaurants I frequented, this place didn't really have a smell of food. They must've kept the kitchen locked up tight so none of the rich noses ever had to smell anything they didn't want to, no matter how expensive it may be.

Really the place just smelled like expensive perfume. Not very appetizing.

I heard a commotion at the door and pulled my shoulders up in anticipation. That had to be Bunny. She stormed in with her purebred Saluki, Vaughn, trailing behind her. The dog held his head and nose up just as high as my mother's. A small maître d' bustled after her, his face brimming crimson.

"Madame, we do not allow pets in ze dining room." He stood up straight, pulled on his vest, and looked around.

"Wonderful." She smiled at him like a crocodile smiles at its prey. "This dog is not a pet. He's family and an investment I am not willing to let out of my sight." She looked at the dog and patted him on the head. "Sit, please." He did sit, as if he were part of our table.

I raised my eyebrows and watched as the small man huffed and walked away. My mother looked me up and down. "Good afternoon," she said.

I bowed a little before I remembered that I wasn't her help. "Hi, mother. How was the grooming?" I tried to send good  energy with my question, wanting to show her so badly that I was willing to work at our relationship.

She waved her hand. "Disappointing. As usual."

I pinched my mouth to one side and said, "Sorry to hear that" trying to imitate her tone as my eyes took her in, my mother, in all her elegance. She was about the same height as me, five foot six. She had red hair, like me, and I'm pretty sure I had gotten my ice blue eyes from her. That's just about where the similarities ended. She'd never weighed more than one-twenty her whole life, her red hair was constantly smooth due to all of the expensive Keratin treatments she had each year and was always styled back into some elaborate bun, and I think her cream pant-suit cost more than what I made in a whole month (maybe two).

She dabbed her fingertips around her lips as if she may have broken a sweat or messed up her makeup because of the interaction with the maître d'. "Well, don't be sorry," she said as if that was the silliest thing in the world. "Incompetence surrounds me. The fact that no one else seems to hold the same standards as I do is something that I've come to accept."

I pressed my lips together and nodded. Sure. Of course my reaction had been wrong. I closed my eyes for a second and tried to find my resolve. I wanted this, I reminded myself. Granted it wasn't exactly going as well as I had hoped, planned, or expected (especially with the universe on my side now), but we were just getting started.

"Are you getting enough sleep?" my mother asked, noticing my eyes were closed.

I opened my eyes and blinked at her. "Oh -- yeah -- I am." See, I thought. She does care about me. She cares if I'm rested.

She shook her head. "Don't lie to me. You have huge dark circles under your eyes and you look all," she waved a hand at me, "puffy."

My face tingled and I wanted to run away. "Thanks," I mumbled. Then again, maybe not.