Title: To Forget
Author: Amara
Rating: PG
Spoilers: None
Category: Pre-SV; Chloe
Summary: Because not everyone wears their family tragedies around their neck.
***********************
Lois Lane was the best damn surgeon at Lady Magdalene
Hospital in South Metropolis. No one questioned that.
She declined several offers for a managerial position on
the grounds that she actually wanted to see her
daughter sometime before she turned three. When asked
about her career choice Lois could never resist
snipping that she never really got the whole yachting
thing anyway.
Although she was generally liked her strong personality
made her an outsider and a few enemies. If there was
one thing the nurses loved to harp on it was her hair.
Although it was very beautiful it was so long and
straight it gave her the false appearance of being a
hippie. Jokes of Dr. Lane attending a sit-on or smoking
a doobie circulated the floor.
Eventually all of them made their way to Lois.
That is, until the day she strode into the operating
room with her scrubs tie dyed.
Her eight year old daughter was doing tie dye in art
class and needed some clothes and Lois had just
thrown her some of her scrubs without a second thought.
Chloe's project turned out so nicely and its completion
just happened to coincide with a nurse mumbling "Turn on,
tune out, and drop out." which gave Lois an idea.
So Dr. Lane not only did surgery in tie dyed scrubs but
also the bewilderment of the attending nurses she also
insisted on listening to Jimi Hendrix.
She pulled off the procedure perfectly and her message
was clear: It doesn't matter who I am or how I look.
What matters here is the job I do so you all can just
shut the hell up.
After that the Janis Joplin was mentioned only in
passing.
*****************************
It was Gabe's turn to do the dishes that evening so
Lois took her daughter out onto the front porch swing.
Chloe loved to watch the sights and listen to the
sounds of Metropolis. Unlike most children her age she
was not frightened by the sound of sirens. Instead she
wanted to know why they had to use a siren and where
they were going.
Lois' speculative explanations were never satisfactory
and in the end Chloe would just leap out of the swing
and run into the living room. More often than not the
television had no special news bulletin and Chloe
would make her mother promise to check the paper the
next morning for an explanation.
This particular evening seemed to be without
interruptions and Lois was able to braid Chloe's hair
in relative peace. Chloe was sitting especially still
because she was waiting for her favorite person to
walk by. Out of all the dog-walkers, joggers and
pedestrians Chloe loved to watch one person in
particular.
Lois figured the girl was commuting between classes at
Metropolis University and an apartment in the area. And
she just had to be an art major.
Everything the girl wore seemed straight out of a
thrift store. All her clothes looked vintage yet
somehow gave the appearance of urban modernism. Her
clothing was full of varied but subdued colors,
multiple fabrics and patterns. No outfit was ever
repeated although she did seem to favor a long old
khaki skirt. Her neck was always ringed with an
innumerable amount of necklaces and chokers. It was
almost like she put a new necklace on and just forgot
to take off its predecessor. Her hair color vacillated
from pink to blue and purple in the transition stage.
And she was never without a pair of funky chunky shoes.
Lois had no idea how the girl managed her commute
without a twisted if not broken ankle.
As she finished Chloe's first braid Lois remembered
something. It was a story she never tired of telling
and Chloe didn't seem to mind listening:
For Chloe's fourth birthday Gabe's mother had given her
a dress. And like most parents they felt it necessary
to get Chloe to wear it at least once.
It had been Lois' idea to take a picture of Chloe in it
and send it to Mrs. Sullivan who lived in Florida. The
dress was a ruffly, fluffy, pink confection. And it was
World War III just getting Chloe into it. She kicked
and screamed that the dress material was "IIIIITCHY!!!!"
Once they got her into the dress they could not get her
to smile for the picture much less stop screaming and
crying. In lieu of picture they sent Grandma Sullivan a
thank you card with Chloe's scribbly signature.
While Lois was helping Chloe out of the offending dress
Chloe had made a rather astute remark. With her face
all scrunched up she stated that she hated that dress
and it wasn't a "Chloe dress". Lois laughed and gave
her daughter a hug. She agreed; it definitely wasn't a
Chloe dress.
On the porch swing Lois hugged her daughter tight,
"That's what I love about you. You're always Chloe no
matter what."
Chloe smiled and rested her head against her mother's
chest. Her eyes light up when the blue haired girl
walked by.
*************************
Chloe tugged on the nun's skirt and demanded the exact
reason why she couldn't play soccer with the boys.
Sister Margaret Mary pretended not to hear and Chloe
continued ranting that what the girls were doing was
boring and the boys couldn't hurt her. She just wanted
something to do; the girls just sat at the stupid picnic
tables and talked. Sister sighed and informed Chloe
that if she did not sit back down immediately she would
be facing a detention.
She stomped back to the picnic table, stomping a little
harder every time she heard an excited yell come from
the soccer field. When she left the girls were
interviewing the new girl but now they had moved on to
another topic, nail polish or something. Chloe didn't
really care.
The new girl, Chloe thought her name was Emilia, had
thick glasses which magnified her eyes. After being
interviewed by her new classmates Emilia had picked up
a book and was reading quietly. Chloe sat down across
from her and asked what she was reading.
Emilia lifted the book to show the front cover's
illustration of a girl with a blonde 50's bob placed
below an evil eye. Out from the were red psychedelic
radiations and the words "warning" and "cyclops". The
title read "#51 Nancy Drew Mystery Stories, The Mystery
of the Glowing Eye".
Chloe's eyes widened in surprise and without any
explanation she got up and ran back into the classroom.
Sister Margaret Mary was busy yelling a direction down
to the soccer field and Emilia merely shrugged and went
back to reading.
When Chloe returned gasping for breath in her hand she
clasp her own Nancy Drew book, "The Thirteenth Pearl".
Emilia smiled they began a cautious discussion of their
favorite Nancy Drew books. Eventually they agreed on
preferring the originals as opposed to the more
formulaic paperback series. By the end of recess Chloe
had invited Emilia to sleepover that Friday.
*******************
To most parents mother-daughter time meant shopping
together, watching a chick-flick, or gardening. However
Lois went by a different definition from an entirely
different dictionary.
Lois' idea of bonding began with coming home on a
Friday night and changing out of her hospital clothes.
Chloe was in charge of making the popcorn and together
they would dim all the lights in the living room.
Without fail every Friday night at eight they watched
The X-Files together.
Originally Gabe objected on the grounds that such a
scary show would certainly scar their daughter. In the
end Lois won and the Friday night ritual remained.
After all though Chloe did love "E.T." even Gabe had to
admit that deep down her preference was more
along the lines of "Close Encounters of the Third
Kind" or "Aliens".
On Chloe's tenth birthday Lois gave her The X-Files
Book of the Unexplained: Volume One with the
inscription: The Truth is out there Chloe, and I know
you'll find it.
************************
It had been two years since Emilia moved away. She had
spent the remainder of fifth grade
sitting alone at lunch and during the subsequent
recess. The other girls left her alone and considered
her an anomaly. She had to be. She didn't even like
Lisa Frank.
The only person that she talked to on a regular
basis was a fellow geek named Stephen who shared her
interest in The X-Files. Every Monday they would
discuss the previous night's episode but the next day
Chloe would go back to reading the Daily Planet at
lunch and Stephen would play Magick with his friends.
**************************
The images on the TV screen went zooming by one another
in an imagery world where the worst that can happen to
someone is getting hit with a turtle shell. Francis
jumped
up from the couch and did a victory yell as the bright
pixels declared him the winner. Chloe playfully grabbed
the end of the seven year olds shirt and pulled him
back onto the couch.
"I let you off easy on that one, Mister Howe. The next
race if mine!"
They were in the middle of their laps when the phone
rang. Chloe almost didn't answer it.
The Howe's had just gotten a second line installed and
its number was apparently previously used by someone of
the name Christine Gebhart. In just one night of
babysitting Chloe had already had to explain to three
of Christine's friends that 555-0098 was no longer her
number.
On the fourth ring she made Francis pause the game
figuring that on the off chance that it was the Howe's
calling they would get nervous if she didn't answer.
Tripping over legos and trucks she swore and nearly
fell and Francis giggled at her. Finally she reached
the wall phone; the answering
machine was just about to pick up. She bent down to rub
her aching shin and as a result her greeting came out
kind of stifled.
"Chloe, this is your father."
Any other time she would've rolled her eyes when he
announced himself and his title. Of course it was her
father. It wasn't as if she couldn't recognize her own
father's voice.
But this time she didn't just recognize the sound of
her father's voice. She recognized the sound of fear
and it made her sink to the floor. Suddenly, perhaps
for the first time in her life, she lacked curiosity.
She was scared and she didn't want to know.
"Are you there?" His voice had risen ever so slightly
giving off the impression of panic barely kept a bay.
Chloe whispered yes like she used to whisper for a
glass of water in the middle of the night.
"I'm at Lady Magdalene. You're mom is here." And then
there was that terrible pause. "As a patient."
Where Chloe sat the cord looped down to her in long
curly cues and she longed to rip it out.
And the story just kind of spilled out, "There was an
accident; your mother was coming home from work and a
guy, they think he was drunk, ran a red light and
swerved into the other lane and hit her straight on."
She knew what was coming next because of all the stupid
crappy made-for-TV movies she'd seen. Her life was now
imitating what she had once openly mocked.
"They don't think she's going to make it. There's not
much time. You need to be
here; I'll come get--"
There was a switch in her brain and Chloe felt it flip.
She kicked into calm professional reporter gear. "No,
you stay there with her. I'll call the Howe's."
She stood up to press the receiver and immediately
started dialing Mr. Howe's cell phone number. The diner
party was only down the street; they would be able to
get here quickly.
Curious, Francis wandered into the kitchen and stared
at her. No doubt he was listening to her speak into the
receiver, "Hi. Mr. Howe? It's Chloe. Sorry to
interrupt but it's an emergency." She looked up at
Francis who was biting his nails at the moment. "No,
Francis is fine. Actually, my dad just called and my
mom is in the hospital. It's pretty serious and I need
to get down there but I don't want my dad to leave so--"
Mr. Howe interrupted her and told her they'd be over in
the car right away.
Chloe hung up the phone for the second time and stared
at the front door. Some part of her was telling Francis
to go ahead and race without her.
She was transfixed by the front door, the dark windows,
the barely lit house. Chloe couldn't help but
wonder...what if? What if she just never left this
house. What if she just remained and went back to
playing video games with Francis; went back to before
her mother was intensive care.
She felt both free and trapped in her own Nevernever
Land.
**************************
As soon as she was invited Chloe knew it was some kind
of geek outreach program. It had to be.
Some mother came up with the half-baked idea of a trip
to the Mall of Metropolis as a way to connect with the
poor little girl who lost her mother. She imagined
the house-wife sitting in the Starbuck's at Barnes And
Noble with the rest of her book club.
The woman telling all her house-wives friends about the
poor girl who lost her mother right before she started
middle school. She could see the mother getting
all misty eyed and saying, "And you know, they say the
poor dear never even got to say goodbye...So you know
what I think we should do? Get our girls to invite
her out this weekend. My Morgan tells me she's a bit of
a recluse. "
She felt ashamed. She hated their pity.
She only went because she knew it would make her dad
happy. He worried about her a lot lately. So she
followed the girls around the mall as they flitted from
Claire's to The Icing to The Limited Too and giggled as
they passed Spencer's.
These girls were a mystery to her. The way their whole
lives seemed to consist of boys and clothes. Any other
topic they discussed was just a subtle variation of
those two themes. How could they already wear so much
makeup? Why did they seem to think as a pack?
Chloe drew the line when they wanted her to go into
Abercrombie & Fitch with them. When they weren't
verbally ripping their enemies to shreds and being
superficial and snobby and well...The point was most
of them had made an effort to make polite but stilted
small-talk with Chloe. Whether their mothers had
collectively put them up to it or not it was still a
nice gesture.
But. she. was. not. going. into. Abercrombie.
They asked why but she just repeated that she was not
going inside. They all just shrugged. Someone, Abby,
Chloe thought, told her to just wait outside then.
When they came back out each one of them was carrying
at least one more bag. Ashley declared that she was
thirsty and wanted to go to Panera Bread so they all
became thirsty and wanted to go to Panera Bread.
Ashley went first and ordered a "Small I.C. Mocha". The
first girl behind the counter nodded and took her
money. The second girl made the I.C. Mocha. Then Sarah
went and ordered the same thing. When Morgan also
ordered a small I.C. Mocha the second girl snapped.
Looking at the gaggle of girls standing before the
counter she said, "Do the rest of want a small I.C.
Mocha because I can make them all at the same time and
it won't take as long."
Everyone nodded except for Chloe who said she didn't
want anything.
They all sat down cafe area and tried to look adult
while sipping their drinks and assessing the
passers-by. Chloe couldn't help but stare at Teresa's
Abercrombie bag. On it were several extremely ripped
young men playing football or doing some other
wholesome American thing.
Staring at one of the boys chiseled abs she suddenly
launched into a rant before she knew what she was
doing. "You know, the male models of Abercrombie &
Fitch and other stores have produced a kind of reverse
anorexia in teenage boys. I read an article about it. Now teens and even pre-teen guys feel pressured to
spend hours at the gym lifting weights and taking
dangerous steroids to fit their own unhealthy ideal.
I think it's sad."
The response uncomfortable and absolute silence.
Several girls were chewing on their straws nervously
and staring blankly into space. Someone coughed and
Morgan suddenly declared that she wanted to go into
Banana Republic. The pack followed.
Chloe trailed behind and she knew she wasn't going to
be invited here again.
******************
Chloe lay curled up on the bed in her mother's room.
Although the sheets had long since stopped smelling of
her mother's jasmine perfume Chloe still found the bed
comforting. She had knees tucked up under her chin and
she had pulled her mother's UMKC-MS sweatshirt over her
legs.
In between the blur of angry tears she stared at the
white Windsor chair across the room. If Chloe
concentrated she could still remember her mother
sitting there reading with her long dark brown hair
framing her face. Her careful surgeon's hands mending
one of Chloe's shirts.
Chloe cried harder when she realized what she saw was
no longer an actual memory. It was just a composite of
pictures of her mother hanging around the house. And
all she had left. Her mother was fading.
In all her years of researching the paranormal Chloe
never imagined she would wish her mother to be a ghost.
If she was then Chloe would be able to still see her
and maybe even talk to her.
The house was the only place left where she could
imagine her mother was still alive. Every morning in
the haze of not-yet consciousness Chloe swore she could
hear her mother singing "Good-Day Sunshine" like she
would when she made fresh orange juice. Sometimes when
her dad came home and opened the garage door Chloe
would pretend that it was really her mother coming home
after a long medical conference.
Chloe bit her lip and when she looked back to the armchair her mother was gone. She frantically tried again and again
unsuccessfully to conjure up the image her mother.
The house was nearly 100 years old, built during the
Metropolis boom at the turn of the century. Chloe had
spent her whole life in a house with a historical plac
at the front door and could not imagine living anywhere
else except maybe a corner office at the Daily Planet.
But for now home was a white Victorian three story
complete with a wrap-around porch, a turret, and
gingerbread paneling. It was the sound of her mother's
wind chimes on the front porch and bright bursts of
colors in the garden out back.
She heard her dad climbing up the creaky wooden stairs.
In the reflection of the dressing mirror Gabe Sullivan
entered the bedroom. Chloe saw him look at her
curled up frame and she avoided his reflection's eyes.
"Chloe..." he said the word and they both let it fall
into silence. Gabe Sullivan shifted his feet
uncomfortably, "I know you're upset about selling the
house. It holds a lot of memories for me too. But you
have to understand that the position at the Smallville
plant is a promotion. I'll be a manager and making more
money. Money that we need. You know maybe it'll be good
for us to get out of this place. Move on..." He sighed.
She watched his reflection turn and go down the stairs.
As she uncurled herself and got off the bed she heard
an outside door closed. She wasn't ready for what she
saw next.
Her mother stood across from her with long brown hair,
bright blue eyes and tear stained cheeks. Chloe stood
there stunned for several seconds until she realized
that it was not her mother but in fact her own
reflection.
So her father wanted her to move on. To forget. How was
she supposed to forget when every time she saw her
reflection her mother stared back?
A small cement circle sat on the dresser. "Happy Mother's Day Mom! Love, Chloe" and the tiny handprint of kindergartener pressed into stone. She could remember the cool sticky feel of the wet cement on her hands.
In one swift movement she grabbed the disk and hurled it at her mother. The individual shards of glass tinkled on their way down.
But instead of seeing her mother once in the reflection Chloe saw her mother dozens of times. Chloe, frustrated but determined, walked over to the Windsor chair reaching beside
it she pulled out a pair of scissors from the sewing basket.
She knelt before the shards and slowly and carefully
cut her hair from left to right.
When she was done the shards showed that her shorn hair only minutely diminished the resemblance. Well, she would fix that.
In her room she emptied her piggy bank. Her father was
outside washing the car and when she exited the house
minus the waist length hair he said nothing. He
recognized the balled up fists and determined gait as a
force not to be questioned. Chloe walked quickly down
the sidewalk in the direction of the corner drugstore.
Her few friends remained similarly silent on the first
day of the Chloe's last week at Metro-North Junior High
School. They tried their best not to stare at her new
drastically shorter blonder and asymmetrical hair or the
dark circles under her eyes.
***********
Author: Amara
Rating: PG
Spoilers: None
Category: Pre-SV; Chloe
Summary: Because not everyone wears their family tragedies around their neck.
***********************
Lois Lane was the best damn surgeon at Lady Magdalene
Hospital in South Metropolis. No one questioned that.
She declined several offers for a managerial position on
the grounds that she actually wanted to see her
daughter sometime before she turned three. When asked
about her career choice Lois could never resist
snipping that she never really got the whole yachting
thing anyway.
Although she was generally liked her strong personality
made her an outsider and a few enemies. If there was
one thing the nurses loved to harp on it was her hair.
Although it was very beautiful it was so long and
straight it gave her the false appearance of being a
hippie. Jokes of Dr. Lane attending a sit-on or smoking
a doobie circulated the floor.
Eventually all of them made their way to Lois.
That is, until the day she strode into the operating
room with her scrubs tie dyed.
Her eight year old daughter was doing tie dye in art
class and needed some clothes and Lois had just
thrown her some of her scrubs without a second thought.
Chloe's project turned out so nicely and its completion
just happened to coincide with a nurse mumbling "Turn on,
tune out, and drop out." which gave Lois an idea.
So Dr. Lane not only did surgery in tie dyed scrubs but
also the bewilderment of the attending nurses she also
insisted on listening to Jimi Hendrix.
She pulled off the procedure perfectly and her message
was clear: It doesn't matter who I am or how I look.
What matters here is the job I do so you all can just
shut the hell up.
After that the Janis Joplin was mentioned only in
passing.
*****************************
It was Gabe's turn to do the dishes that evening so
Lois took her daughter out onto the front porch swing.
Chloe loved to watch the sights and listen to the
sounds of Metropolis. Unlike most children her age she
was not frightened by the sound of sirens. Instead she
wanted to know why they had to use a siren and where
they were going.
Lois' speculative explanations were never satisfactory
and in the end Chloe would just leap out of the swing
and run into the living room. More often than not the
television had no special news bulletin and Chloe
would make her mother promise to check the paper the
next morning for an explanation.
This particular evening seemed to be without
interruptions and Lois was able to braid Chloe's hair
in relative peace. Chloe was sitting especially still
because she was waiting for her favorite person to
walk by. Out of all the dog-walkers, joggers and
pedestrians Chloe loved to watch one person in
particular.
Lois figured the girl was commuting between classes at
Metropolis University and an apartment in the area. And
she just had to be an art major.
Everything the girl wore seemed straight out of a
thrift store. All her clothes looked vintage yet
somehow gave the appearance of urban modernism. Her
clothing was full of varied but subdued colors,
multiple fabrics and patterns. No outfit was ever
repeated although she did seem to favor a long old
khaki skirt. Her neck was always ringed with an
innumerable amount of necklaces and chokers. It was
almost like she put a new necklace on and just forgot
to take off its predecessor. Her hair color vacillated
from pink to blue and purple in the transition stage.
And she was never without a pair of funky chunky shoes.
Lois had no idea how the girl managed her commute
without a twisted if not broken ankle.
As she finished Chloe's first braid Lois remembered
something. It was a story she never tired of telling
and Chloe didn't seem to mind listening:
For Chloe's fourth birthday Gabe's mother had given her
a dress. And like most parents they felt it necessary
to get Chloe to wear it at least once.
It had been Lois' idea to take a picture of Chloe in it
and send it to Mrs. Sullivan who lived in Florida. The
dress was a ruffly, fluffy, pink confection. And it was
World War III just getting Chloe into it. She kicked
and screamed that the dress material was "IIIIITCHY!!!!"
Once they got her into the dress they could not get her
to smile for the picture much less stop screaming and
crying. In lieu of picture they sent Grandma Sullivan a
thank you card with Chloe's scribbly signature.
While Lois was helping Chloe out of the offending dress
Chloe had made a rather astute remark. With her face
all scrunched up she stated that she hated that dress
and it wasn't a "Chloe dress". Lois laughed and gave
her daughter a hug. She agreed; it definitely wasn't a
Chloe dress.
On the porch swing Lois hugged her daughter tight,
"That's what I love about you. You're always Chloe no
matter what."
Chloe smiled and rested her head against her mother's
chest. Her eyes light up when the blue haired girl
walked by.
*************************
Chloe tugged on the nun's skirt and demanded the exact
reason why she couldn't play soccer with the boys.
Sister Margaret Mary pretended not to hear and Chloe
continued ranting that what the girls were doing was
boring and the boys couldn't hurt her. She just wanted
something to do; the girls just sat at the stupid picnic
tables and talked. Sister sighed and informed Chloe
that if she did not sit back down immediately she would
be facing a detention.
She stomped back to the picnic table, stomping a little
harder every time she heard an excited yell come from
the soccer field. When she left the girls were
interviewing the new girl but now they had moved on to
another topic, nail polish or something. Chloe didn't
really care.
The new girl, Chloe thought her name was Emilia, had
thick glasses which magnified her eyes. After being
interviewed by her new classmates Emilia had picked up
a book and was reading quietly. Chloe sat down across
from her and asked what she was reading.
Emilia lifted the book to show the front cover's
illustration of a girl with a blonde 50's bob placed
below an evil eye. Out from the were red psychedelic
radiations and the words "warning" and "cyclops". The
title read "#51 Nancy Drew Mystery Stories, The Mystery
of the Glowing Eye".
Chloe's eyes widened in surprise and without any
explanation she got up and ran back into the classroom.
Sister Margaret Mary was busy yelling a direction down
to the soccer field and Emilia merely shrugged and went
back to reading.
When Chloe returned gasping for breath in her hand she
clasp her own Nancy Drew book, "The Thirteenth Pearl".
Emilia smiled they began a cautious discussion of their
favorite Nancy Drew books. Eventually they agreed on
preferring the originals as opposed to the more
formulaic paperback series. By the end of recess Chloe
had invited Emilia to sleepover that Friday.
*******************
To most parents mother-daughter time meant shopping
together, watching a chick-flick, or gardening. However
Lois went by a different definition from an entirely
different dictionary.
Lois' idea of bonding began with coming home on a
Friday night and changing out of her hospital clothes.
Chloe was in charge of making the popcorn and together
they would dim all the lights in the living room.
Without fail every Friday night at eight they watched
The X-Files together.
Originally Gabe objected on the grounds that such a
scary show would certainly scar their daughter. In the
end Lois won and the Friday night ritual remained.
After all though Chloe did love "E.T." even Gabe had to
admit that deep down her preference was more
along the lines of "Close Encounters of the Third
Kind" or "Aliens".
On Chloe's tenth birthday Lois gave her The X-Files
Book of the Unexplained: Volume One with the
inscription: The Truth is out there Chloe, and I know
you'll find it.
************************
It had been two years since Emilia moved away. She had
spent the remainder of fifth grade
sitting alone at lunch and during the subsequent
recess. The other girls left her alone and considered
her an anomaly. She had to be. She didn't even like
Lisa Frank.
The only person that she talked to on a regular
basis was a fellow geek named Stephen who shared her
interest in The X-Files. Every Monday they would
discuss the previous night's episode but the next day
Chloe would go back to reading the Daily Planet at
lunch and Stephen would play Magick with his friends.
**************************
The images on the TV screen went zooming by one another
in an imagery world where the worst that can happen to
someone is getting hit with a turtle shell. Francis
jumped
up from the couch and did a victory yell as the bright
pixels declared him the winner. Chloe playfully grabbed
the end of the seven year olds shirt and pulled him
back onto the couch.
"I let you off easy on that one, Mister Howe. The next
race if mine!"
They were in the middle of their laps when the phone
rang. Chloe almost didn't answer it.
The Howe's had just gotten a second line installed and
its number was apparently previously used by someone of
the name Christine Gebhart. In just one night of
babysitting Chloe had already had to explain to three
of Christine's friends that 555-0098 was no longer her
number.
On the fourth ring she made Francis pause the game
figuring that on the off chance that it was the Howe's
calling they would get nervous if she didn't answer.
Tripping over legos and trucks she swore and nearly
fell and Francis giggled at her. Finally she reached
the wall phone; the answering
machine was just about to pick up. She bent down to rub
her aching shin and as a result her greeting came out
kind of stifled.
"Chloe, this is your father."
Any other time she would've rolled her eyes when he
announced himself and his title. Of course it was her
father. It wasn't as if she couldn't recognize her own
father's voice.
But this time she didn't just recognize the sound of
her father's voice. She recognized the sound of fear
and it made her sink to the floor. Suddenly, perhaps
for the first time in her life, she lacked curiosity.
She was scared and she didn't want to know.
"Are you there?" His voice had risen ever so slightly
giving off the impression of panic barely kept a bay.
Chloe whispered yes like she used to whisper for a
glass of water in the middle of the night.
"I'm at Lady Magdalene. You're mom is here." And then
there was that terrible pause. "As a patient."
Where Chloe sat the cord looped down to her in long
curly cues and she longed to rip it out.
And the story just kind of spilled out, "There was an
accident; your mother was coming home from work and a
guy, they think he was drunk, ran a red light and
swerved into the other lane and hit her straight on."
She knew what was coming next because of all the stupid
crappy made-for-TV movies she'd seen. Her life was now
imitating what she had once openly mocked.
"They don't think she's going to make it. There's not
much time. You need to be
here; I'll come get--"
There was a switch in her brain and Chloe felt it flip.
She kicked into calm professional reporter gear. "No,
you stay there with her. I'll call the Howe's."
She stood up to press the receiver and immediately
started dialing Mr. Howe's cell phone number. The diner
party was only down the street; they would be able to
get here quickly.
Curious, Francis wandered into the kitchen and stared
at her. No doubt he was listening to her speak into the
receiver, "Hi. Mr. Howe? It's Chloe. Sorry to
interrupt but it's an emergency." She looked up at
Francis who was biting his nails at the moment. "No,
Francis is fine. Actually, my dad just called and my
mom is in the hospital. It's pretty serious and I need
to get down there but I don't want my dad to leave so--"
Mr. Howe interrupted her and told her they'd be over in
the car right away.
Chloe hung up the phone for the second time and stared
at the front door. Some part of her was telling Francis
to go ahead and race without her.
She was transfixed by the front door, the dark windows,
the barely lit house. Chloe couldn't help but
wonder...what if? What if she just never left this
house. What if she just remained and went back to
playing video games with Francis; went back to before
her mother was intensive care.
She felt both free and trapped in her own Nevernever
Land.
**************************
As soon as she was invited Chloe knew it was some kind
of geek outreach program. It had to be.
Some mother came up with the half-baked idea of a trip
to the Mall of Metropolis as a way to connect with the
poor little girl who lost her mother. She imagined
the house-wife sitting in the Starbuck's at Barnes And
Noble with the rest of her book club.
The woman telling all her house-wives friends about the
poor girl who lost her mother right before she started
middle school. She could see the mother getting
all misty eyed and saying, "And you know, they say the
poor dear never even got to say goodbye...So you know
what I think we should do? Get our girls to invite
her out this weekend. My Morgan tells me she's a bit of
a recluse. "
She felt ashamed. She hated their pity.
She only went because she knew it would make her dad
happy. He worried about her a lot lately. So she
followed the girls around the mall as they flitted from
Claire's to The Icing to The Limited Too and giggled as
they passed Spencer's.
These girls were a mystery to her. The way their whole
lives seemed to consist of boys and clothes. Any other
topic they discussed was just a subtle variation of
those two themes. How could they already wear so much
makeup? Why did they seem to think as a pack?
Chloe drew the line when they wanted her to go into
Abercrombie & Fitch with them. When they weren't
verbally ripping their enemies to shreds and being
superficial and snobby and well...The point was most
of them had made an effort to make polite but stilted
small-talk with Chloe. Whether their mothers had
collectively put them up to it or not it was still a
nice gesture.
But. she. was. not. going. into. Abercrombie.
They asked why but she just repeated that she was not
going inside. They all just shrugged. Someone, Abby,
Chloe thought, told her to just wait outside then.
When they came back out each one of them was carrying
at least one more bag. Ashley declared that she was
thirsty and wanted to go to Panera Bread so they all
became thirsty and wanted to go to Panera Bread.
Ashley went first and ordered a "Small I.C. Mocha". The
first girl behind the counter nodded and took her
money. The second girl made the I.C. Mocha. Then Sarah
went and ordered the same thing. When Morgan also
ordered a small I.C. Mocha the second girl snapped.
Looking at the gaggle of girls standing before the
counter she said, "Do the rest of want a small I.C.
Mocha because I can make them all at the same time and
it won't take as long."
Everyone nodded except for Chloe who said she didn't
want anything.
They all sat down cafe area and tried to look adult
while sipping their drinks and assessing the
passers-by. Chloe couldn't help but stare at Teresa's
Abercrombie bag. On it were several extremely ripped
young men playing football or doing some other
wholesome American thing.
Staring at one of the boys chiseled abs she suddenly
launched into a rant before she knew what she was
doing. "You know, the male models of Abercrombie &
Fitch and other stores have produced a kind of reverse
anorexia in teenage boys. I read an article about it. Now teens and even pre-teen guys feel pressured to
spend hours at the gym lifting weights and taking
dangerous steroids to fit their own unhealthy ideal.
I think it's sad."
The response uncomfortable and absolute silence.
Several girls were chewing on their straws nervously
and staring blankly into space. Someone coughed and
Morgan suddenly declared that she wanted to go into
Banana Republic. The pack followed.
Chloe trailed behind and she knew she wasn't going to
be invited here again.
******************
Chloe lay curled up on the bed in her mother's room.
Although the sheets had long since stopped smelling of
her mother's jasmine perfume Chloe still found the bed
comforting. She had knees tucked up under her chin and
she had pulled her mother's UMKC-MS sweatshirt over her
legs.
In between the blur of angry tears she stared at the
white Windsor chair across the room. If Chloe
concentrated she could still remember her mother
sitting there reading with her long dark brown hair
framing her face. Her careful surgeon's hands mending
one of Chloe's shirts.
Chloe cried harder when she realized what she saw was
no longer an actual memory. It was just a composite of
pictures of her mother hanging around the house. And
all she had left. Her mother was fading.
In all her years of researching the paranormal Chloe
never imagined she would wish her mother to be a ghost.
If she was then Chloe would be able to still see her
and maybe even talk to her.
The house was the only place left where she could
imagine her mother was still alive. Every morning in
the haze of not-yet consciousness Chloe swore she could
hear her mother singing "Good-Day Sunshine" like she
would when she made fresh orange juice. Sometimes when
her dad came home and opened the garage door Chloe
would pretend that it was really her mother coming home
after a long medical conference.
Chloe bit her lip and when she looked back to the armchair her mother was gone. She frantically tried again and again
unsuccessfully to conjure up the image her mother.
The house was nearly 100 years old, built during the
Metropolis boom at the turn of the century. Chloe had
spent her whole life in a house with a historical plac
at the front door and could not imagine living anywhere
else except maybe a corner office at the Daily Planet.
But for now home was a white Victorian three story
complete with a wrap-around porch, a turret, and
gingerbread paneling. It was the sound of her mother's
wind chimes on the front porch and bright bursts of
colors in the garden out back.
She heard her dad climbing up the creaky wooden stairs.
In the reflection of the dressing mirror Gabe Sullivan
entered the bedroom. Chloe saw him look at her
curled up frame and she avoided his reflection's eyes.
"Chloe..." he said the word and they both let it fall
into silence. Gabe Sullivan shifted his feet
uncomfortably, "I know you're upset about selling the
house. It holds a lot of memories for me too. But you
have to understand that the position at the Smallville
plant is a promotion. I'll be a manager and making more
money. Money that we need. You know maybe it'll be good
for us to get out of this place. Move on..." He sighed.
She watched his reflection turn and go down the stairs.
As she uncurled herself and got off the bed she heard
an outside door closed. She wasn't ready for what she
saw next.
Her mother stood across from her with long brown hair,
bright blue eyes and tear stained cheeks. Chloe stood
there stunned for several seconds until she realized
that it was not her mother but in fact her own
reflection.
So her father wanted her to move on. To forget. How was
she supposed to forget when every time she saw her
reflection her mother stared back?
A small cement circle sat on the dresser. "Happy Mother's Day Mom! Love, Chloe" and the tiny handprint of kindergartener pressed into stone. She could remember the cool sticky feel of the wet cement on her hands.
In one swift movement she grabbed the disk and hurled it at her mother. The individual shards of glass tinkled on their way down.
But instead of seeing her mother once in the reflection Chloe saw her mother dozens of times. Chloe, frustrated but determined, walked over to the Windsor chair reaching beside
it she pulled out a pair of scissors from the sewing basket.
She knelt before the shards and slowly and carefully
cut her hair from left to right.
When she was done the shards showed that her shorn hair only minutely diminished the resemblance. Well, she would fix that.
In her room she emptied her piggy bank. Her father was
outside washing the car and when she exited the house
minus the waist length hair he said nothing. He
recognized the balled up fists and determined gait as a
force not to be questioned. Chloe walked quickly down
the sidewalk in the direction of the corner drugstore.
Her few friends remained similarly silent on the first
day of the Chloe's last week at Metro-North Junior High
School. They tried their best not to stare at her new
drastically shorter blonder and asymmetrical hair or the
dark circles under her eyes.
***********
