Upper Class: Chapter 46
That was it? I want to say to her. All of this, the whole year, was because you felt your mother didn’t want you?
Shan is going back to Detroit on Monday. I have mixed emotions about this.
But there’s no time to sit around and delve into them, because Shan and I have decided to create a crash course/montage of our time together. We’re going to start our Sunday at our favorite coffee house, shop the best Jewish stores that Detroit is sorely lacking, head to our favorite pizza store — not Stuffed Crusts — and then drive over to American Dream Mall for ice skating and some major candy haul.
I crimp my hair for our special outing, wear my cutest sweater (with the big flowers splashed all over in shades of blue), and pull on the lace boots I copied from Shan. She won’t mind, and besides, we’re no longer going to be living in the same state.
She beeps, I grab my Lulu, yell out a “Bye, love you!” to Ma, and jump in the car.
She looks great, Shan. Pretty and healthy and there’s a sparkle in her eyes I don’t think I’ve seen since camp.
That was it? I want to say to her. All of this, the whole year, was because you felt your mother didn’t want you?
And I want to mock it, I want to belittle the need to have your mother’s affections when I’ve felt so distant from mine for so long, but I have to admit I get it. This newfound closeness with Ma gives me a sense of confidence I haven’t felt in a long, long time. A sense of security. Of attachment.
Shan hugs me; I hug her back tightly.
“Shhhhaaaan!” I say, my eyes tearing.
She sniffs and we laugh.
“No crying,” I say strictly. “Fun only.”
She salutes. “Yes, sir, captain, sir!”
She pulls neatly onto the street and looks at me sideways. “Girl, why is it taking so long for you to get your license? I have strong suspicions your heart’s not in it, young lady.”
I poke her. “Do you want to give me a speech about potential?”
She shudders. “Heavens, no. Wouldn’t want to put anyone through that familiar torture.”
We roll our eyes in unison.
“Anyway, for your information, I have a driving test scheduled for next week.”
Shan squeals. “I’m so excited for you! First destination: road trip to Detroit.”
I snort. “Yeah, right.”
She smirks. “So Tom got past the whole backing-into-a-stop sign debacle.”
My face turns red just at the memory. “Ohmigosh, literally made driver’s ed history.”
Shan tries to keep a straight face but ends up cackling. “I can’t believe they’re not banning you from getting your license.”
I look at her as she laughs. I’m really going to miss her. She crash-landed into my life, creating ripples that messed up my perfect days, but because of her, I’m closer with Ma than I’ve ever dreamed. And I’ve gotten to learn what a deep friendship can look like. I owe her a lot. And I want to tell her, but there’s a lump in my throat that prevents me from doing anything except pointing out a parking spot in front of the coffee house.
***
I write her a letter later when I’m back in my room, surrounded by shopping bags and candy wrappers.
Detroit is far away, but I know I’ll see her again soon. Our paths will cross again, that I know for sure.
I cut out a photo of us, a goofy one we took in a photo booth, and paste it onto the letter. We look pretty and young and so filled with life and laughter.
Why does it all have to be so hard, though? Why did it take so much to get here, to this place?
Me, on my way to getting my license, close with my family, paying attention in all of my classes.
Shan, mending relationships, rectifying mistakes.
It’s been quite a year, and it’s not over yet.
I look around my room; my gaze lands on a photo of Debbi and me.
And because my floral scented stationery is already out and I’m in a deep, emotional state anyway, I write Debbi a letter.
She deserves it, and I need to say it. She’s made me into the bad guy, and maybe I behaved badly toward her, but I did not destroy our friendship, and neither did Zeesy or Shan.
Our friendship just wasn’t that strong to begin with.
But I’d like that to change, I write.
I want to have a real friendship, a true friendship, where we can be our best and worst selves and feel safe to do so.
Because I’ve known you almost my entire life, and I know you’re worth it.
So please forgive me for not treating you right, and let me know if that’s something you want, too.
Love, Naomi.
To be continued…
(Originally featured in Cozey, Issue 993)
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