Volume Three - WordPress.com — Get a Free Blog Here

“Just tell her someone needs some guidance.” I recognized the voice. Another time I asked for his name he
chose to respond as “having issues only Miss Anita could help him with,” and the time before that he asked for
“your angel of a mother.”
“Mom! It’s that guy with issues again,” I yelled from the hallway, down toward the kitchen. I waited,
listening to the phone.
Her voice arrived: “Hi sweetie, how are you holding up?” I hung up. Many of Mom’s friends spoke about
“sponsors” and “issues” and “guidance” during the times I listened-in on the calls. And I wondered how much
Mom could actually do for these people. She wasn’t all that good at fixing issues at home. When Dad said
something in our house it was always the final word; the loudest word, the longest word. So, why were all these
men and women calling? I resolved to ask.
I waited until a Saturday, when Laura and Dad were at the YMCA and Mom and I were alone, a rarity. Pee
Wee Herman bounced around his colorful living room and Mom had just hung up after a long, soft-voiced call.
Without moving, I said, “Mom, can we talk?”
“Chairey!” Mom exclaimed, eyes on the large chair that sang toward the smiling man in the gray suit.
“Mom, seriously,”
“Of course, sweetie. It’s a pretty day, let’s go outside.”
I followed her and hopped up onto the porch swing my father had whipped up one summer with lumber
and a thick chain. Mom sat on the step just below me. Her hair was dark at that time, curly, and thick. I liked
to push my fingers through it when we sat next to each other to watch TV.
She breathed out heavily and then reached for a Benson & Hedges Menthol Ultra Light. “What’s on your
mind?” she asked seriously.
I hesitated. I should’ve thought out what I wanted to say. “Umm… what’s a sponsor?”
She took a long drag, and looked at me, considering my question with an adult-to-adult regard. I appreciated
this. “You mean Gregory?”
I shrugged. “I just want to know what you always talk about on the phone. You know, like what a sponsor
means…”
Her cheeks drew inward as she blew out a thin cloud of smoke. I hoped I hadn’t said anything wrong.
“How would you like to take a trip with me tonight, to my meeting?”
I was shocked. This was an invitation into my mother’s secret world. “Uh, okay.”
“Okay. It should answer your questions, hon.”
“Okay, yeah!” I said, as I hopped off the creaking swing. It was going to be just her and me. This was a
rare and beautiful opportunity. I searched through my closet for the perfect outfit. I had a lot of spandex pants
for running around in, and racing shirts. I also had an Easter dress from the year before. Unfortunately, I didn’t
have much in-between. I decided to settle on jeans and a race shirt that said The Tomato Town Trot, which I
stylishly tucked in. At the very least, it would advertise the fact that I could run five miles at a young age. Then,
to kick up my look, I added a pair of gold-colored earrings that I had bought at the dollar store. They were big
loops with beads that moved around whenever I moved my head. I slid down the stairs on my butt, and Mom
met me at the bottom.
“Well, don’t you look pretty,” she smiled at me as she said this.
“The lipstick is too bright,” Laura added as she came in and put down her gym bag. I was upset that she was
home. Her green hair was fading, probably a result of the chlorine at the YMCA pool. I waved Laura’s opinion
off as though it were flying too close to my face.
“Jealous.” I hissed.
“When do you plan on coming home?” Dad wanted to know. He was asking Mom. He seemed irritated.
“We’ll be home when we’re home,” she said. Mom led me out of the house, out of the tense air, always
tense air. Just going out with Mom was strange and exciting. Usually, my father was the one to take me—
anywhere. If there were any mother-daughter bonding moments, they would be shared between my sister and
my mother. Maybe this trip would change the dynamic. I smirked as Laura followed us. She stayed at our heels
until we reached the door; she was begging to come, but Mom said she wasn’t old enough to go. Ha!
I watched the familiar art shops and bars around our home gave way to small, cozy residential homes and
cow pastures. I fidgeted with my seat belt as I looked around, curious as to where we would turn next. I rarely