Before I left Cat's house, she had insisted that I also take some make-up that she would never wear. In a small bag, she gave me eyeshadow palettes that contained smokey hues of color that were certainly too bleak for Cat's taste, black eyeliner, and mascara. I find it difficult to sincerely express gratitude to others, but I mustered up a good thank you for her. I held fast onto my new possessions and made my way back to my bike. Careful to not let Mom see the colorful hair extensions and make-up, I stowed them away with the Little Red Riding Hood costume in the pannier.
I made haste to get home before Mom could wonder where I have been this whole time. The muscles in my legs were shouting in protest at me for pedaling so hard, but I pushed on anyway. With hardly any obstacles in my path other than the occasional traffic intersection, I made it home at a reasonable time. When I dismounted from the bike, it felt like I had jelly legs. I decided to leave my new belongings where they were safely hidden. I could put on the make-up and extensions first thing in the morning when I arrive at school rather than at home where Mom would see it.
As I got close to the front door, I could hear Mom's music blaring through our sound system – was it Mozart? Bach?
When I entered, all I could do was stand speechlessly against the door. I recognized now that it was Beethoven's Fifth Symphony playing at top volume. In tandem with the fast tempo of the music, Mom was frantically changing the interior of the house. All of the furniture in the living room was pushed towards the center with plastic tarps covering them, various paint cans were scattered across the floor, and decor that was once on the walls or cabinets were now stuffed in cardboard boxes.
"Mom!" I had to shout over the orchestra, "What are you doing?"
"Oh good, you're home!"
She stopped in her tracks and went to turn off the music. Her hair was a disheveled mess in a bun and her clothes must have come from deep within her closet – clothes that she would not care if they got stains or tears in them.
"Come here, I'd like to have a second opinion," she called, standing by the kitchen island. Samples of tile backsplashes, countertops, and paint nearly covered the whole surface.
"Okay, so I'm thinking of this Warwick quartz for the countertop, these long hexagonal tiles for the backsplash, and… Oh I'm not sure what to do for the base cabinets. Do you think white is too common? Oh, but that would really brighten up the place – I don't know!"
"Mom, what are going on about? Why are you wanting to change everything?"
"To be quite frank, dear, I will lose my mind if I have to look at the drab condition of this house any longer. It doesn't appear to have had any work done to it since the 80s and I will not allow myself to be encased in it anymore."
"Okay… but why now? We've lived here for like 10 years and you've never even painted a wall before."
"Because," she laughed hysterically, "your father thought it would be a shame to change anything in this house – thought it would ruin its character or something. But for pete's sake, it was the 80s! This house is begging for some new life. And now that it's been decided that he will no longer be living with us, I can do whatever I want with it. So what do you think, should we go with Mineral Deposit, Acacia Haze, or Pearly White?"
I considered the paint samples in front of us and imagined them covering the current, dull, brown cabinets. As I did, a thought entered my mind: if Mom's already going to be changing the living room, kitchen, and who knows what other parts of the house in a manic craze, surely one more room won't make much of a difference in the end.
"Go with Acacia Haze – white is definitely overdone."
"Oh, I'm sure you're right. Now, go look through those swatches on the table will you, honey? See if you think the Thea Floral wallpaper will work for the den."
She continued to play with the samples for the kitchen while I took a moment to look through the wallpaper swatches. I hesitated to ask her if I could change some things to my room, too. Dad certainly would have said no, but there was hope with Mom.
The Thea Floral wallpaper looked fine enough to me, but I flipped through the other options to see if there was anything better. Most of the choices were obnoxious to look at, but I could have gasped when I saw one that looked just like a picture that Cat added onto my "moodboard." The swatch was a light gray and black damask pattern.
"Mom," I started carefully, "do you think we could make a couple changes to my room, too?"
"Why honey, do you not like it the way it is?"
"Uh no, not really."
"Hmm."
"It's just so plain," I pressed. "The walls are white, my bedsheets are boring, and I-I don't know, it just doesn't feel like mine."
I was ready to hear her exasperatedly turn me down, but it would seem I caught her at a most opportune time. Her mind was fixated on change.
"What do you think then? A splash of paint? We could go to Wacy's for new stuff and donate the old."
"Wait, really?" I almost couldn't believe my luck.
"Yeah, screw it. Your dad's getting himself a new, young lady with a yappy dog, we deserve something for ourselves, too. And… I know the past few months haven't been exactly easy for you; I mean, how could they be? Your dad and I have been at each other's throats, you've started at a new school, and, of course I don't know the first thing about the performing arts, but I know you've been working hard for your show. Gosh, I should probably tell you this more often than I do, but I am proud of you, Jade."
I had to bite the inside of my cheek and divert my eyes. Meaningful exchanges were a rarity in this household, but whenever they occurred, my heart would swell, a lump would form in my throat, and tears would sting my eyes. Of course, she didn't know half of how bad the past few months have truly been, but I never felt like I could talk about anything with my parents without receiving some added disappointment from them.
"Thanks, mom," I could barely get the words out without letting my voice crack.
"I mean it, honey. I know your dad's not exactly thrilled to see you perform, but I can't wait to see you shine on that stage. What's your character's name again? Tell me about your role."
"I play Wendla Bergmann – the lead. She's, uh, a teenager in 1800s Germany. She's very innocent and sweet, you know, but she's also very curious. There's a lot she doesn't know about the world, like um, the changes happening to her body, how babies are made, or some of the brutal ways people are treated."
"Oh my."
"And she ends up feeling attracted to Melchior, the other lead, but she doesn't know what that attraction is because no one explained it to her. And then, uh, the two of them, you know, do the thing together not knowing what could happen."
"That's a… that seems like a bit much for a high school show doesn't it?"
I could tell that the ultra-conservative side of her was wary of me being part of this production. And truthfully, knowing that she would see me acting all of this out on stage was a little off-putting.
"Probably, but it's such a good story and the songs are so poetic. Try to have an open mind about it, please? It's important to me."
"I hear ya, honey, I'll try. And oh, yes, the songs! You really should sing some of your songs for me – how many do you have?"
"I have a part for eleven of them, but two of them are solos."
"Eleven?! That's impressive. I have an idea, how about I pull up the soundtrack on PearTunes and we listen – or you can sing – to them while we paint the living room? I stirred the paint just before you got home."
I couldn't tell what had gotten into my mother to suddenly take such an interest in me, but I could not have been more happy.
"Yeah, that could be fun. But, before we do, can you just look at this? I actually really like this wallpaper. Could I maybe have it in my room above the wainscotting?"
Swatchbook in hand, I approached her to show the damask pattern that I desperately wanted. I braced myself for her critical opinion, doubting that it would be something that appeals to her taste.
"Are you sure about this one?" she asked with clear reservations. "Is it not too… dark?"
"I'm sure." My mind was set, but I needed to give some persuading to my mother. "This pattern was used a lot in the Victorian era, wasn't it? If anything, I think the darkness makes it look elegant."
She considered it for a dreadfully long moment.
"Well, when you're right you're right. Fine. I'll order enough for your walls when I order the wallpaper for the den."
"Really?!" Excitement must have been written all over my face.
"Yes, really," she laughed. "Now come help with painting the living room before I change my mind."
She searched up the Original Broadway Cast version of Spring Awakening and started the album over the sound system. It was all too fitting that the first song should be "Mama Who Bore Me" – Wendla's lament for how her mother insists on keeping her in the dark in hope that it will keep her from growing up.
As I sing along, I can't help but think of the times that my own mother failed to prepare me for what was and still is in store for me as I grow closer to an adult. She hadn't exactly been clear on how the mechanical or social sides of anything works. If only she didn't make it all out to be as taboo as it was in the 1800s, I could have saved myself some trouble scouring the internet for all of the answers.
Mama who bore me
Mama who gave me
No way to handle things
Who made me so sad
Mama, the weeping
Mama, the angels
No sleep in Heaven, or Bethlehem
She cut in the corners with a chiseled brush and I took a roller to make progress on the major surface area of one of the living room walls. It was refreshing to see the dull, beige color finally being covered up with a lively sea glass one. When the song came to an end, my mother gave a strong, heartfelt hug from behind me. Had it been any other person at any other time, I would have tried to wrestle myself out of their grasp. But I sank into her embrace and even found myself hugging her back.
This chapter is a little bit shorter than our most recent ones, but fret not! Another one will be posted soon enough, but I wanted to at least post something before making anyone wait longer. Starting this week I will have a LOT more downtime than I usually do, so I hope to be much more productive with this fic. Thanks again to anyone who has managed to stick with this story – you're seriously the best!