My Mother Grows Wallflowers Read online

  “Please?” Emma teased as she hopped from foot to foot. “I really want to go on the swings.”

  Mina peeled the underside of her thighs off the mat again and put her book down on top of her notebook. “Okay, okay.” They had no swing set at home. She couldn’t deny Emma the chance to play on the swings. “Let’s go.”

  “Hi, Emma.”

  “Hi, Sarah. Mina, it’s Sarah.” Em skipped over to drag the other girl back by the hand.

  “Hi, Sarah. How are you?” Mina smiled at the girl. She liked little kids a lot. They were easy to talk to.

  “Good.” The girl smiled back. Bright eyes and a round face were framed by long black braids.

  “How do you like it here?” Mina asked.

  “Good,” Sarah answered. “The boys don’t like it much though.”

  “The boys?”

  “My brothers.”

  Who else was there besides Sam? “How many brothers do you have?”

  “Three. Ori and Joe are up at the big school, and Sam’s here with me and Winona.”

  “Why don’t your brothers like it here?” Emma snatched the words right out of Mina’s head. Maybe it’s the same reason my brother didn’t like it here.

  Sarah shrugged. “I know Ori misses his girlfriend, and I think Sam is mad because they put him in the wrong grade. Back home in South Dakota, he would’ve been in grade nine and with Ori and Joe.” Sarah took Emma’s place on the mat. “How do you make your hair do that?”

  “This?” Mina pulled one of the long ringlets hanging down her back to the front. “My hair’s really curly, so when it’s wet, my mother takes a brush and uses it to wrap my hair around her finger, and it stays that way.” Ma insists this shows it off, like I want to show off anything. Mina remembered the time she’d brushed it all out and scraped it back into a frizzy ponytail one Saturday morning to go help her father. Her mother had doled out her usual punishment, and by Monday morning, Mina’s hair was back in curls. She tossed the strand of hair back over her shoulder, not wanting to think about it.

  In a tentative gesture, Sarah reached out a small hand and pulled on one of the ringlets, stretching it a couple of inches. When she let go, it sprang back to its original shape. “Wow, that’s funny.” She laughed, trying it a couple of more times.

  In her exuberance, her foot kicked Mina’s book off the top of her notebook. “Sorry.” Sarah replaced it. Studying the outside of the notebook, she ran her finger over the letters. “What’s that say?”

  “It’s my name. It’s spelled M-i-n-a, but it sounds like M-e-e-n-a. Actually, my real name is Wilhelmina, but only my mother calls me that.”

  “Oh.” The little girl’s gaze drifted around the gym. “Whew, it’s hot in here. Emma, wanna go play outside?” Sarah got up.

  “Is it okay?”

  “Sure.” Mina relented. There was an adult on duty. “Be careful though,” she called after the little girls. Tugging her dress down, Mina picked her book up again and found her place. She was soon engrossed in the story. So engrossed, she was surprised when a shadow fell across the book page. Worn sneakers appeared at the edge of the pile of mats. Sam Miller’s sneakers.

  “Thanks for the help today. I appreciate it.”

  “You’re welcome.” She kept her eyes trained on the book. Say something, say anything. But nothing came to mind.

  Sam waited.

  She sat there. Think of something!

  “Well, thanks again.”

  I could ask him how he likes it here. Mina lifted her head and opened her mouth only to close it again. Sam Miller had walked away.

  You’re such a loser. You couldn’t even think of one thing to say? Mina crammed her book into her backpack, her desire to read gone.

  The girls got off the bus half an hour later to walk across the lawn and up the steps of the front porch. Mina’s gaze landed on a sprung mouse trap, its victim’s tail still twitching. Ma’s setting traps again? What’d they chew up this time? Boxes and paper bags, tossed this way and that, filled the other end of the porch to the rafters. It could be anything. She stepped to Emma’s side to block the grisly sight from view. Through the picture window, Mina saw her mother in her usual chair, hands folded over her protruding stomach. Mina pushed the door open and waited for Emma to come in before closing it. The television blared and since they only got one station, Mina knew her mother was settled in to watch her favorite soap before their father got home, a cup of tea resting on the arm of her chair.

  “Hi, Ma.” Mina worked her way down the hall, the musty smell emanating from the stacks of magazines and newspapers intense in the dark, confined space. She opened the door to the bedroom she shared with Emma. Light and fresh air from the window she’d left open washed over her.

  “Change your clothes,” her mother called after her. “Your father needs help with the Tyson’s lawn tonight.”

  Great, like I don’t already have enough to do. “Okay,” she called back over her shoulder. It was still too early in the year to mow, so it was probably seeding and mulching. Mina hated mulching, the hay made her itch. She’d have to finish her homework between now and supper. Not much time since her mother always had supper on the table at five o’clock.

  “Hey, Ma. Guess what? I got to play with the new girl at school today. She’s really nice,” Mina heard Emma tell their mother as she closed their bedroom door. She pulled off her dress and tossed it into the laundry basket at the bottom of the closet before she stepped into an old pair of homemade jeans and slipped into a stretch top. Her work clothes. That way she’d be ready to go right after dinner.

  Her father worked for the state highway department and didn’t earn a lot of money. To make ends meet, he took various odd jobs on the side, lots of them. Mowing lawns, haying, cutting and delivering firewood…whatever it took. Mina was usually drafted to help. She spent long hours in their wood lot, dragging brush and loading the wood chunks into the wagon behind the ancient tractor, while her father ran the chain saw. She wasn’t sure which was worse, the sweat stinging her eyes or the black flies gnawing holes behind her ears.

  Once home, all the wood had to be split and stacked for delivery in the fall, not to mention the amount they had to put in their own basement for winter. That chore is still a few weeks away, thank goodness.

  Sitting cross-legged on the bed, Mina worked on her homework, finishing a few minutes before her mother called, “Supper.”

  Her father sat squeezed in at the other end of the table, the floor and sink shelf behind him covered in empty disposable containers of various sizes. Ma said they were good to freeze leftovers in. They never had much in the way of leftovers, but the stacks continued to pile up. “Hi, Dad.” Mina slid into her seat as her mother put a small kettle on the table. Beef stew and biscuits. It smelled good. “We’re working at the Tyson’s tonight? Seeding and mulching?”

  He shook his head. “Raking. Lots of leaves they didn’t call us about last fall,” he answered, tiredness easy to read on his gaunt face. Everyone ate in silence.

  I’m going to have blisters tomorrow, Mina groaned inwardly, reflexively opening and closing her hand under the table as if the skin was already taut and swollen.

  Finally Emma spoke up. “Guess what, Dad? I made friends with the new girl in my class today.”

  “Good. What’s her name?” He directed his gaze away from his bowl and toward his youngest daughter.

  “Sarah.”

  “Sarah who?”

  “I don’t know. What’s her last name, Mina?”

  “I think their last name is Miller.”

  “Miller? Hmm, I wonder if they’re related to old Don Miller?” he mused aloud, looking at his wife. “Remember, he had that hunting camp out on Gooseneck Road?”

  “No.” Mina’s mother shook her head, the gray strands of hair hanging on either side of her face making Gertrude Mason look older than her fifty-four years.

  “You’d know it if you saw it,” he reassured her. “But that can’t be t
hem. I heard the family that moved in there was Indian.”

  “That’s them. Sarah’s mother is, but we learned at school they’re not Indians, they’re Native Americans,” Emma volunteered.

  “Well, whatever they are, they’ve got a lot of work ahead of them to make that place livable in the winter. It’s a hunting camp; I don’t even think it’s insulated,” George Mason stated, shaking his bald head.

  Mina looked around their kitchen, from the dingy off-white walls to the cabinets that not only needed paint, but had a missing door. Her father spent so much time on odd jobs for other people, he never seemed to have time to take care of repairs at their house.

  “Mina, are you ready?” her father asked.

  “I have to get my sneakers and sweatshirt.” Mina put her bowl on the worn Formica of the sink shelf.

  “Gertrude, I’m going to need a few dollars for gas.” George shrugged on a patched flannel shirt over his dark green work clothes.

  “Get my purse out of the bedroom while you’re down there.”

  Mina grabbed her things and stepped to the closed door on the opposite side of the hall. Her mother’s bedroom. She hardly ever went in there and didn’t want to now. This is crazy. She pushed on the door and squeezed through the narrow opening. Piles of clothes, overflowing paper bags, an old window shade, wire coat hangers, belts, a purse with a broken handle, a winter boot, several magazines, pot handles, canning jars, paper towels, a plastic bag of oranges…just in the immediate area. The entire room was full to the ceiling with only a pathway to a cluttered nightstand and a narrow twin bed. Even the foot of the bed had a set of silverware secured with masking tape and a stack of towels on it. How does she sleep in the bed? Mina bent to retrieve her mother’s purse, and knew before she looked it’d be packed solid underneath the bed. Stuff was piled everywhere throughout the house. The attic and every closet, except Mina’s, looked like her mother’s bedroom. Even the front porch had just enough open space by the front steps to fit in a recliner and a cushioned maple arm chair. Both were old and dirty, discarded from somewhere else; her parents used them to sit in and watch traffic go by. And Mina knew the traffic watched them too. People often gawked at the dilapidated house as they drove by. Mina never went out on the front porch unless she had to, in hopes people wouldn’t associate her with the house if they didn’t see her in it.

  Several hours later, Mina was home in bed. Settled into her customary sleeping position of an arm across her eyes to help block out Emma’s lamp, Mina started to drift off.

  “Mina?”

  “What?” she asked without moving or lifting her arm.

  “Do you think Ma will let me invite Sarah over?”

  Mina knew this would come up someday. “I don’t think so, Em.”

  “Why not?”

  “Well, Ma doesn’t like people in the house.”

  “Why not?”

  Mina shrugged. “I think she feels uncomfortable with people she doesn’t know.”

  “Well, how’s she going to get to know them, if she never invites them over?”

  “You’ve got a good point, kiddo.” Mina hesitated for a moment. “I don’t think she wants to get to know them.” Em hasn’t noticed yet Ma doesn’t want people to see the mess. That way she doesn’t have to clean it up. She’d rather stay in here with her stuff and keep the rest of the world out.

  “Can you talk to her, Mina? I’d really like Sarah to come over sometime.”

  “I’ll see what I can do, but don’t get your hopes up.”

  “Okay.” Satisfied, Emma rolled onto her side. “Night, Mina.”

  “Night, Em.” Mina sighed. It’ll never happen.

  “Quiet down. We’ll have more time to work on these math problems tomorrow. Right now, I’d like you to put them away so we can talk about partners for your final project in Language Arts,” Mrs. McIntosh instructed the class. The buzz of conversation swelled in the room. For a week there had been a lot of speculation about who the teacher would put together.

  Sam Miller tensed at her announcement; he’d been dreading it ever since the teacher said they were going to partner up. No matter the problem, be a man and face it with your head up. Sam heard his grandfather’s voice in his head and knew he had no other choice. How bad can it be? At least no one is going to knife me here. Mrs. McIntosh was talking again. He raised his eyes. Blair Whitman smiled at him. Oh, crap, I should’ve been listening. Am I working with her?

  “Blair Whitman and Robbie Fields,” Mrs. McIntosh read.

  The smile disappeared from Blair’s face. “Mrs. McIntosh, that’s not fair.”

  The teacher lowered the piece of paper. “Blair, sometimes life isn’t fair. I hear that you’re upset, but you need to work with Robbie on this project.”

  Sam relaxed in his seat. Every time he turned around, Blair Whitman was there. Twice now, when no one else was near, she’d brushed up against him in a way that couldn’t have been accidental. With her long blond hair and short skirts, his friends back home would’ve said, “She’s hot. Bang her.” He’d listened to them once and ended up in a mess with his short-lived girlfriend, Jessie. Blair reminded him of her, minus the knife Jessie kept tucked in her boot. So, hot or not, Sam wanted no part of this Wasicu girl, or any other girl for that matter. Not now.

  “End of discussion, Blair.” Mrs. McIntosh continued to read from her list and now Sam paid attention.

  “Mina Mason and Sam Miller.” As soon as the teacher said her name, he glanced over at her out of the corner of his eye. When the teacher said his name, Mina’s head had snapped up and the only way he could describe her expression was shock. She doesn’t want to work with me. She probably thinks I’m stupid. Mina glanced at him before dropping her eyes. He turned back to find Blair looking past him, glaring straight at Mina.

  “I want everyone to get with their partner and do some brainstorming about what their project is going to be. Switch desks, whatever you need to do. We’re going to finish out the afternoon on this.”

  Since Robbie Fields already sat in their group of desks, Sam looked toward Mina’s group. The seat next to her was empty. He moved across the room, folding his long frame into the vacant seat. Neither of them said anything for a few minutes, each studying the desk in front of them.

  “Have you read the guidelines?” Mina asked.

  “Of course I have.” Well, sort of, what I could understand.

  “Sorry.” Mina was quiet for a few moments. “So, what’d you think?”

  “I’m not sure,” he hedged and kept his eyes trained on the desk.

  “About which part?”

  All of it since I can’t freakin’ read it. His last school had so many kids, no one got a lot of extra attention. He’d picked up what he could and kept his mouth shut if he didn’t understand, and it’d always worked until he got here. This school had already put him back a grade, and a lot less kids were here. This girl is going to figure it out and ask for another partner. Then everyone will know. Sam envisioned more fights in his immediate future. I might as well get it over with. “All of it.”

  “All of it?”

  He leaned in closer and spoke in a low tone, “Look, I don’t read so good. Okay?”

  “You don’t read?”

  He shook his head.

  “At all?”

  “Of course I can read…some.”

  “Okay…okay. Don’t get upset.”

  Mina shifted in her seat and Sam tensed. “Are you going to tell the teacher?”

  “No.” She rearranged her notebook before opening the handout. “Maybe I can help you. Let me think about it.” Mina kept her voice low too. “Emma’s in third grade and has been reading for over three years.”

  “How can that be? What was she, like five or six?”

  “Five. It’s probably from playing school with her.”

  “You taught her to read?”

  “Well, yeah…I guess I did.”

  “Great. I’m fourteen and an eight-year-old re
ads better than I do. That sucks. Maybe you should ask for a new partner.”

  Mina shook her head. “I’m fine with it, but you might want a new partner.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m sure you know why.” Mina kept her eyes on her notebook. “I’m not exactly the most popular girl—kid in class.” She cleared her throat. “Other kids might say stuff. I think Blair wanted to partner with you.”

  “Yeah, but probably not the way you think.”

  “What? What do you mean?”

  Sam could tell she had no clue what he was talking about. “Forget it.” He let out a gust of breath. “Look, you’re the only one besides my sister who knows about my reading, so keep it to yourself please.” She nodded. “Thanks. If you can deal with that, I’ll deal with what anyone has to say. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “Good. Where do we start?”

  “Well, first, let’s pick out what tale we’re going to use, and then we can work on the story. We can either take something off this list or choose one of our own. Let’s see…Beauty and the Beast, Hansel and Gretel,” Mina read on. “Do any of these sound good?” She glanced his way.

  “I don’t know. Can you read it again?”

  Mina read the list again.

  “Some of them I don’t think I know.” She gave him a quick synopsis of each story. “Don’t take this wrong, but most of them sound girly, with princesses and stuff.”

  That bought a fleeting smile to Mina’s face. “Okay, how about one of Aesop’s fables?”

  “Who?”

  “Aesop was Greek, and he wrote fables, short little stories with a moral at the end. You know, The Tortoise and the Hare, The Four Oxen and the Lion?”

  He shook his head.

  “No?” Mina proceeded to tell him the stories.

  “Wow, you’re really smart. I bet everybody tells you that, huh?”

  Mina blushed and shook her head. “Thank you.”