Crystal

  "Sorry," he said. "I know you don't want to hear this garbage."

  "That's all right. I'm just surprised, that's all," I said.

  "You're surprised? You can imagine how surprised I am. Well," he said, pushing back from the table, "they leave me alone and buy me whatever I ask for. You know what I think." His eyes were now looking glassy with tears. "I think my own mother is afraid of me. She hates coming into my room. She says she can't stand looking at those specimens I have in jars and that it smells. Does my room smell?"

  "No," I answered honestly.

  "All she wants to do is buy me what's fashionable in clothes. That's practically the only time I go anywhere with her."

  I looked down. How strange it was to hear someone with parents sound more unhappy than I was without them. Maybe he was right; maybe there were more orphans out there than I could have imagined.

  "Did you ever have a boyfriend at the orphanage?" he asked softly.

  I looked up and shook my head. "Everyone I meet wants to know that, too. Even Thelma asked me that," I said.

  "I just wondered what kind of boys you liked," he said.

  "I like boys who are honest and intelligent and caring about someone else's feelings as much as they are about their own?"

  "What about looks?"

  "It helps if they don't have a wart on the tip of their nose or an eye in the middle of their forehead," I said, and he laughed.

  "I think you're nice," he said. "I think you're nicer than most girls I know who aren't orphans. You must have good genes;' he concluded. "Your mother must have been nice, too."

  I looked away.

  "What did she die of?" he asked. I was silent. "What was her sickness?"

  "She was a manic-depressive," I shot back at him, and stood up. "She died in a mental hospital. I'd appreciate it jj you wouldn't tell anyone. So, you see, my genes are not so good after all. I've got to go home," I said. "I told them I wouldn't be here that long."

  "I'm sorry. I didn't mean .

  "It doesn't matter. Thanks for showing me your slides," I said, and headed for the door.

  He came after me and took my arm to stop me before I opened the door. "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to ask so many personal questions?'

  "It's all right. I've got to learn how to deal with it," I said. "I'm just afraid, that's all, afraid of becoming her?'

  "You won't," he assured me.

  "I won't? What about your belief about genes?"

  "You have your father's genes, too."

  "He was worse," I said, without going into it. "Well, you have grandparents. There are lots of combinations and influences on who we are."

  "When do we find out?" I asked him, my tears now bubbling at the lids.

  "Find out what?"

  "Who we are."

  "We're always making discoveries about that," he said.

  I opened the door.

  "Hey," he said, stepping out alongside me. "What?"

  "Thanks for coming over." He leaned in before I could react and kissed me quickly on the cheek. "Why did you do that?"

  He shrugged. "My genes, I guess," he said, and laughed as he stepped back inside and closed the door.

  I stood there for a moment with my hand on my cheek where he had kissed it. It had happened so fast, too fast. I was disappointed.

  That's the first time a boy ever did that to me, I thought as I started for home. I tried to understand the excitement that made my heart thump and brought a heat to my face. There was a movement of feelings through my body, a current that rushed in waves from my legs, through my stomach, and up around my heart, sending trickles of electricity down to the very tips of my fingers. Was this love, my first love?

  My eyes were filled with his green eyes. His smile fit like a glove over mine My brain of ten billion cells was a kaleidoscope of emotions. I felt sorry for him living like an orphan in that big, beautiful, expensive house. I wanted to go back and be with him. I wanted to hold him in my arms and tell him how to overcome the loneliness, a loneliness so strong that even all the money in the world, buying all the things he could fancy, wouldn't stop it from making his heart ache. I wanted to kiss his cheek, and then I wanted our lips to touch.

  I wanted more, and what I wanted frightened me. I closed my eyes but quickened my steps. When I opened them, I was standing in front of my new home. I started to laugh.

  It was funny. When I had left, Thelma had asked if I could see love under the microscope.

  Maybe I had.

  7 Seeing Stars

  Falling asleep was harder than ever after I returned from Bernie's house. Thelma kept me busy with chatter about a new nighttime serial she had watched for the first time. She described the entire first episode in detail, including its settings and all its major characters. My mind wandered even as she spoke. I could hear her droning on, and I watched her animated face go through all the emotions, plucking a sigh from here, a laugh from there, and then loading up on smiles and tears before she finished with the declaration, "This is the best evening program I've seen?'

  I promised to watch it with her next time and then went to my room to finish my homework and organize my notebook. My stomach felt as if it had a mad bumblebee buzzing around inside. I couldn't concentrate on anything and found myself gazing out the window at the stars. I was hypnotized by the glitter and twinkle of the jeweled sky, and when I did think, I realized I had rarely spent time looking at the night sky when I lived at an orphanage. I always felt shut up, contained, and chained by bureaucratic rules and paperwork that left me feeling small and alone, just another number in some official's logbook, just another problem for society. It was better to remain unnoticed, to fold up in some corner, swallow back my tears, hide my face in books, and close the shades on my windows. There was no place for stars or for dreams in that world.

  But now, after just one day at my new school, meeting new people, feeling like someone, I saw myself as reborn. I unfolded like a flower that had been stuck between the pages of the child welfare system's books. I was free to grow, to feel, to cry, and to laugh. I had a home. I had a name. I had a right to be alive and to be heard.

  I couldn't help feeling like a fish out of water, however. Expressing emotions, having an opinion, and being confident around other kids my age was so new it all made me anxious and even a little afraid. Now, more than ever, I didn't want to fail. I couldn't be a disappointment to people who had invested their faith in me. I would be the best possible student, I thought. Karl would be very proud. I would help Thelma forget the ugliness and disappointments in her past, and I would give her as well as myself a reason to face a new day.

  And then I would permit myself to grow into a woman. This frightened me most of all. As long as I was still seen as a little girl, I was safe, even in the orphanage. I lived in some neutral place without sex, unnoticed and unremarkable, especially by boys.

  Bernie's kiss had suddenly changed all that. I felt like Sleeping Beauty. Of course, I had thoughts about sex and romance before, but somehow I never thought of myself as potentially someone's lover. I was still an observer, the little girl who sits beside the older, far more sophisticated girls and listens with wide eyes and interest to the intimate stories describing events and experiences that were still more like fantasy or science fiction but never something that would happen to me.

  Now it could happen to me. I touched the place on my cheek where Bernie had kissed me, and then I rose and gazed at myself in the mirror. Was my face more mature? Would anyone look at me now and think that's a pretty young woman?

  I laid out my nightgown on the bed and then went to the bathroom, brushed my teeth, took off my clothes, and returned, but I didn't put on my nightgown. Naked, I stood before the mirror and studied my body, noting the shape of my blossoming breasts. When I turned on an angle, I saw how my body was taking shape, how the curves were softening and filling out.

  My heart sanded as I looked at myself this way. I felt as if I had nudged some part of m
y inner self that had been hibernating. It lifted its head and smiled, welcoming my curiosity. Yes, I could hear it whisper from within, I am here, I am ready to take you on a new journey full of exciting feelings and emotions. The biological streams flowing inside will join and rush over every dry part of you. Anyone looking at your lips, your eyes, or touching your hand will see the heat and the hunger. I will make you a woman. My body was filled with the promise.

  I put on my nightgown and crawled under the covers until I was snug. The soft, plush pillow was a cloud beneath my head. I was floating over the lightning and thunder of excitement I had aroused in myself, but still I tossed and turned for hours until I finally settled into a warm pocket of sleep, exhausted.

  The sound of doors closing, the quick, heavy beat of footsteps, the cries coming from Thelma jerked me out of the darkness. I listened. Either Karl or Thelma rushed up the stairs and back to the bedroom. Thelma was crying. I rose quickly and went to my door.

  She was standing in the hallway with her coat on. She saw me and wiped away the tears that were streaming down her cheeks so hard they actually dripped from her chin.

  "Oh, Crystal, you're up. I'm sorry we woke you, but maybe it's better."

  Karl came out of the bedroom wearing his coat, too.

  "What's wrong?" I asked.

  "It's my mother!" Thelma cried. "She was just rushed to the emergency room. We have to go. My father is so upset he could have a stroke."

  "Should I get dressed?" I asked.

  "No, no," Karl said. "This could be hours and hours. You go back to sleep, and tomorrow morning, if we're not back in time, you take the bus to school. We'll be fine!' He put his arm around Thelma's waist.

  She reached for me and held me against her for a moment. Then the two of them hurried on.

  "Isn't there anything I can do?" I called to them. "No, no, just go back to sleep," Karl replied.

  Their footsteps died away as they turned and headed for the garage.

  I went to the window in my room and gazed out to watch them drive off. The street was otherwise deserted, the small patches of illumination from the lights creating a quilt of yellowish white in the darkness all the way to the corner and beyond where Karl's car turned and disappeared into the night.

  The house was deadly quiet. It had all happened so fast, I felt as if I had dreamed it, especially after I crawled back under my covers and closed my eyes. It was far more difficult now to fall asleep, but shortly before the first light of day, I did. The alarm woke me. Otherwise, I would have slept through most of the morning.

  I took a long shower and made myself some oatmeal. As I ate my breakfast, I looked toward the phone, hoping Karl would call before the bus came, but he didn't. I was tempted to get myself to the hospital instead of going to school, but I thought it might upset them more, so I finished getting dressed, gathered my books, and went out to wait for the bus.

  Helga was already standing at the bus stop with Ashley Raymond, whose mother, Vera, was

  practically the only neighbor Thelma spoke to, and only because Vera was into watching soap operas, too.

  "Isn't Karl taking you to school today?" Helga sang.

  Ashley was about my height with light brown hair and a pair of large blue eyes too big for her small mouth and nose. She gazed at me. She always looked like a frightened doe to me. I had said about four words to her before this.

  "Something happened to my grandmother last night, and he and Thelma had to rush to the hospital. They're still there;' I explained.

  If there was any sympathy in Helga, it was down so deep in her heart it would take an oil rig two weeks to find it. She smirked and nudged Ashley.

  "Bernie will be happy. He'll have someone to sit with," she said,

  "What's wrong with your grandmother?" Ashley asked quietly.

  "I don't know. They rushed out too fast for me to ask questions," I said.

  "I know her. She's a nice lady!' Ashley said.

  "Yes, she is?'

  "How many times did you actually even meet her?" Helga fired at me, as if I had no right to comment.

  "It doesn't take long for me to know who is nice and who isn't!' I said, fixing my angry eyes on her. She had to look away, but with a short, little laugh.

  The bus arrived, and we boarded. I made my way to the rear, where Bernie was sitting and reading. He didn't even realize I was there until I sat beside him.

  "What are you doing on the bus?" he asked with surprise.

  I told him, and he shook his head.

  "That's too bad."

  "I hope she'll be all right," I said.

  "Me, too. My mother's terrified of becoming old," he said after a moment, "but not because she might die. She's afraid of wrinkles and dry skin and gray hairs. She's had two cosmetic surgeries this year alone and"--he lowered his voice to a whisper--"a tummy tuck. You look tired." He studied me harder.

  We heard loud laughter and looked up front, where Helga and some of the other kids were talking and gazing back at us.

  "When I first met Helga, I thought it would be nice to have a friend. I never really had a close friend," I said. "I almost made a big mistake."

  "The woods are full of wolves," he muttered, staring at them. Then he turned to me. "I'll be your close friend if you like."

  I smiled. "Okay," I said.

  He went back to his reading as if looking at me was painful now. I sat with my eyes closed and shut out the chatter and the laughter until we reached the school and the beginning of my second day.

  It was nearly impossible to concentrate in class. I couldn't help wondering and worrying. At

  lunchtime, Bernie escorted me to the pay phone and waited as I called home. The phone rang and rang until Karl's voice came on from the answering machine, asking the caller to leave a name and number, time of call, and a brief statement of the call's purpose. It sounded more like the message at an office than at a house. I left my name.

  "No one's home yet," I told Bernie.

  He thought a moment, "Well, that's good. Whatever's being done for her is still being done."

  Bernie was a little reluctant about returning to the cafeteria to have lunch with me, but he agreed, and we sat together at a small table toward the rear. From this position, we could see that many other students were looking at us and talking about us.

  "It feels like we're in a fishbowl," Bernie quipped. He ate and read his science book, pausing occasionally to talk about something from our class work.

  I began to wonder if his kissing me was something I had imagined. He showed so little interest in me and actually jumped in his seat when our arms grazed each other. Other girls who had boyfriends sat closer to them, some practically on their laps, laughing and talking to each other as if there were no one else in the cafeteria. When the bell rang to end the lunch hour, they walked off holding hands. Bernie and I walked side by side but clutching our books as if they were life vests and we were on the deck of a sinking ship. I saw from the way some of the other girls looked at us, whispering and giggling, that we were already the subject of very nasty jokes.

  My next class was nearly half over when the speaker on the wall clicked and a voice requested that my teacher send me to the principal's office. Everyone looked at me as I rose and left the room. The principal's secretary told me to take a seat and wait. A few minutes later, the door opened, and there was Karl with Mr. Nissen. I didn't need to hear any words. The expressions on their faces told all.

  "I didn't want to take you out of school, Crystal, but Thelma is asking for you and thinks you should come right home with me," he said.

  "Of course." I didn't know what else to say.

  "Don't worry about your homework. I'll see to it that your assignments are sent to the house," Mr. Nissen said.

  "She won't be out that long," Karl assured him. "Take whatever time she needs," Mr. Nissen said. "Please give Mrs. Morris my sympathies."

  I realized I had left my briefcase, books, and notebooks on my desk and h
ad to hurry back to get them. Everyone turned my way when I entered and went to my desk. Our teacher paused. I gathered up my books and put them into the briefcase quickly.

  "What are you doing, Crystal?" Mr. Saddler asked.

  I went up to him. It wasn't the sort of thing I wanted to shout out. "I'm sorry, Mr. Saddler, but I have to go right home. My grandmother has died."

  "Oh," he said. He looked awkward and confused, like someone who had stepped onto ice. "Of course. I'm sorry."

  He waited for me to leave before he started the class again. As I walked toward the door, I looked over at Bernie. He nodded at me, his face as tight and as serious as a doctor giving his patient's loved ones hard news. I left quickly, the door closing behind me softly, and then I hurried down the corridor to where Karl was waiting. We walked out together, neither of us saying a word until we were in his car.

  "What happened?" I finally asked.

  "The doctor said she didn't have much more than fifteen percent of her heart muscle working by the time she was brought in. They did the best they could. She lasted longer than they thought she would. Thelma says that was because of you."

  "Me?"

  "She says her mother wanted to stay with us longer so she could see you grow up in our family. It's what she believes, and it's what makes it sadder for her," he said. "I'm sorry that you've had such a hard beginning with us," he-added.

  "How's Grandpa?" I asked.

  Karl shook his head. "Fragile. I don't know how he is going to last alone. As sick as she was, Thelma's mother took good care of him," he said.

  "What's going to happen to him?"

  "As soon as I can, I'll start looking for a good adult residency for him. We can't take him in with us. We don't have the room," he added.

  If I hadn't come to live with them, they would have the room, I thought. I felt just terrible about it. Would Grandpa resent me? Would Thelma?

  "I could share my room with him," I suggested. "Of course you can't," Karl said. "Besides, we can't give him the attention he's going to need.

  Thelma's not good at looking after sick folk. If I get a cold, she panics. Don't you get sick," he warned. 'Those damn shows put all sorts of ideas in her head about this illness and that. Mention a pain, and she'll give you an episode on Community Hospital that fits it. No, don't worry about Grandpa. I'll see to him,' Karl promised. "With his insurance and retirement pension, he can afford something decent."