Does my mother’s spirit still live here?
A Different Hat
Sister Rachel brings three boxes of costumes to English class today. “We’re going to role-play our favorite characters from literature,” she tells us. “A game of charades, except you’ll say something that your character might say. Then everyone will try to guess the identity.”
The students groan but rush to the boxes like they’re checking out their Christmas stockings. Sister Rachel brought lots of hats, a few capes, and even some fake mustaches and beards. I try to find an item that reminds me of something Jane Eyre would wear and settle for a lacy white bow attached to a hair clip.
I run the story through my mind like a movie. Even though I’ve read the book five times, I can’t decide on a scene I’d want to share with the class. They’re all too special and personal, as if sharing would be like telling a friend’s secret. Because somehow when I read that book, I feel like I’m the only one who knows Jane’s life.
At my desk, I ponder some of the best scenes, while across the room Sister Rachel stands behind some of the girls admiring themselves in a mirror. She’s wearing a lady’s hat from the forties and her uni-brow is completely covered by the brim. To my surprise, she tilts her head to the right and stares at her image a long moment, then glances quickly around as if to see if anyone noticed her studying her reflection. And for some reason, my heart aches.
It’s a Girl
On the way home from school, Auntie told us that Ana Cruz gave birth to a girl late this morning. She had a long, hard delivery. That’s why Auntie didn’t make our dinner this afternoon. She was home, taking a nap.
John Wayne wanted his sister to name the baby Miss Kitty, after the redheaded lady who owns the saloon on the Gunsmoke reruns. Ana named the baby Carmella.
I wonder if Carmella will like to dance. And I wonder if one day it will bother her that her father isn’t married to her mother.
Parents Night
Mary Kelly’s mother is expecting a baby. Mary Kelly never told us, but tonight is Parents Night at school, and I see Mrs. Johnson’s stomach poking out like a pumpkin. Maybe that’s why Mary Kelly hated the stories about babies being snatched from their mothers’ bellies.
Tonight Mary Kelly turns back into the new girl on the first day. She acts shy, barely saying hi to me. But when her mother touches her arm, Mary Kelly pulls back like she’s embarrassed of her.
Auntie Bernadette is here instead of Tata because someone had to go to Frank’s school. During the cookie reception, she walks across the room to Mrs. Johnson. And like she does to every pregnant woman she sees, Auntie places her good hand on Mrs. Johnson’s big belly, closes her eyes, and makes her prediction. “Boy!” she announces confidently.