We were all
sitting around the new black rectangular dining table from IKEA. My mother sat
in one of the chairs on the side of the table. She sat with her back to one of
the two windows in the dining room. My mother’s friends, Yvette and her husband
Tim sat next to her. They filled the last two side chairs. My father and my
brother, Karl, each sat at either end of the table. I sat to the left of Karl,
across from my mother. Next to me, on my left, sat my best friend since early
childhood, Sarah.
Sarah
had her thin, long blond hair brushed up neatly into a ponytail that sat high on
the tip of her head. It reached down to her upper back. Her diamond earrings
glittered in the subdued lamplight when she turned or tilted her head. They
dangled politely from her earlobes. She had recently learned how to apply
makeup well. Now, she had dusted a shimmery brown shade over her pale lids. Her
hazel eyes seemed brighter this way. She was wearing a new sweater. It was a
sweater I wouldn’t have thought she would ever put on. She had chosen a black
one. It was a little baggier than I would have thought her tastes in clothing
would lead her to purchase. But by now, I was realizing that I didn’t know her
as well as I’d thought I once did. She still looked to me, as she always did, like
she was more sophisticated than I ever could be. She had dark jeans on. When
she took off her charcoal flats at our front door two hours ago, I could see
that she had painted her toes a shiny electric blue. I remember thinking how I
wished I had that nail polish.
At
first, everyone was talking. We were all sharing stories about our general
workdays (the adults) and school days (us kids), the random details that
irritated us or made us smile. But that was forever ago now… wasn’t it? I
glanced at the clock – the bright green light read 6:45. How could it have only
been ten minutes? Everyone was talking at first. But now it had changed. Now only
Sarah was speaking. She was speaking to Yvette.
I
looked across the table towards where my mother and Yvette sat. The two of them
looked as stiff and rigid as I felt. My mother’s clear blue eyes were open
wide, darting back and forth between Sarah and Yvette. She had traces of soft
redness in her cheeks when I looked at her. As I looked for a few seconds
longer, that redness flared brighter. It spread from her cheeks across the
bridge of her nose. As this happened, she caught my eye with her own pair of
blue-planet eyes. They opened even wider, matching my own deep brown, wide-eyed
look. Sarah kept speaking. That pink blush kept spreading across my mother’s
face.
Yvette
looked unchangeably rigid in a different kind of way. She had an intense
brightness to her eyes. But her jaw was tightly clenched. Her mouth, once
shaped like a rosebud, had become a firmly pressed line that never wavered. Sarah
kept speaking. Yvette’s line of a mouth became thinner and thinner. She said
nothing. She just kept staring with her own chocolate brown eyes straight
across the table at Sarah’s face. She did not blink.
I
looked to the ends of the table, where Tim, my father and my brother sat. All
of them were staring down into their plates full of mashed potatoes, stuffing,
cranberry sauce and turkey. Their forks twirled around their plates, scooping
up nothing. I wanted so badly to call out to them. I wanted to change the
subject, to stop Sarah from speaking. I wanted to make sure they hadn’t turned
to stone. I wanted to make sure they hadn’t stayed in one position so long that
they would forever be as stiff as the chairs in which they sat. I wanted their
shoulders to lower back down beneath their ears. But I said nothing. Only Sarah
was speaking now.
I
looked back to Yvette. Her brow was now furrowed. I had never seen her soft,
light golden-brown skin look so dark. Sarah kept speaking. Yvette’s skin kept
darkening.
Sarah’s
own pale complexion also had some pink dusting in her cheeks. I hadn’t noticed
it before. Was this her embarrassment? Or was this her makeup?
I
felt like saying, “Sarah, ease off. You’re ruining my stuffing.” But I didn’t.
I
didn’t know what to do. I had always been able to say what I wanted, to feel
free to express my thoughts. Why was this different? All the people here were
my friends and family. When a girl at school last year was bullying me, I
walked right up to her, looked her in the eye, and said, “You need to back off.
I haven’t done anything to you, and you have issues, but they aren’t because of
me.”
That
was seventh grade. No body bullied me this year. Had I forgotten how to stand
up for myself so soon?
Sarah
kept speaking. I glanced at the clock again – the bright green light read 6:50.
Was time slowing down? Was this the universe’s cruel trick? Had I done
something to deserve this bad karma? I wracked my brain for an answer. While I
wracked, Sarah kept speaking.
How
had no one interrupted her by now? Was the responsibility mine? Her mother was
not here. So did the duty of keeping her in line fall to me, her closest
friend? But I didn’t know what to say.
I
always used to know what to say. A few months ago, when a girl on my swim team
came to me in tears, I knew how to respond. I asked her what was wrong.
“Mia,
what’s wrong?”
“I
think I’ve hurt myself. I was just swimming like I always do, but there’s
blood…”
Mia
was a year younger than me. I had had my period now for a year already. I
always carried extra tampons with me, just in case.
“Don’t
worry, Mia. I know what this is. I can help you,” I said, trying to sound as
sincere and reassuring as I could.
Mia’s
tears dried up a little as I explained to her, as best I could, what a period
was, and how to use tampons. I told her coach that she was having girl
troubles, and that she needed to go home. The coach called her mother, who came
and picked her up. As her mom walked her out of the locker room, Mia caught my
eye and gave me a grateful smile. I smiled back and gave a little wave.
Why
couldn’t I come up with something sincere and reassuring to say now? I wanted
Yvette to look at me like Mia had. I wanted everyone’s grateful smiles. But I
couldn’t figure out how to stop Sarah.
Sarah
kept speaking. I looked at the clock again. The bright green light read 6:55.
How could time keep moving this slowly?
Sarah kept speaking. Time
kept moving slowly. My mother kept blushing. Yvette kept staring. I kept
waiting.
