Rock My World (16 page)

 
“Morning,” Anya said, pouring herself a cup of
coffee. She set a grapefruit on a plate and joined Felicity at the table.

“Morning,” Felicity smiled and watched her deftly
cut the juicy pink fruit in half, exposing its pulpy flesh momentarily before covering
it in a thin layer of sugar. Vaguely, Felicity wondered how many days of her
life Anya had done that. Would it amount to years if they were all added up?

Routine was
a funny thing. It could be comfortable and reassuring—a sign that the
world was exactly as it should be. Or it could be banal and mundane and make
you feel like the walls were inching closer and closer until they would
eventually flatten you into nothingness.

“What are
you studying?” Anya asked.

“Organic
chemistry. We have a test today. And this teacher makes it impossible to get
all the answers right. There’s always some obscure question thrown in, just to
spite us.” Felicity said, folding her arms across her chest.

 
“Do you have to get a perfect grade?” Anya
asked.

Felicity
tensed. Her grandmother had a way of making things look like the obviously
correct answer was absurd. She sighed in resignation, aware that they’d already
had the
you-have-to-do-a-hell-of-a-lot-more-than-get-straight-A’s-to-get-into-Ivy-League-colleges
talk. No one understood. And now, apart from wanting to get into an Ivy League
school, her more pressing desire was to beat Sadie for valedictorian.

“Oh, I meant
to ask you, I have to write a vignette about someone in my family and I was
wondering if I could write it about you?”

“Of course.
That sounds like a fascinating assignment.” Anya’s eyes twinkled, a broad smile
stretching across her face.

***

The sun
lingered above the horizon that afternoon as Anya and Felicity sat on the large
wrap around deck, their faces golden in the afternoon light. Felicity pressed
record on her iPhone, nodding to Anya to begin.

“When and
where were you born?”

“I was born
in 1944, in a small town in Arizona, that’s now part of Phoenix. My parents
were from Kansas, where they were farmers. The Arizona land was too dry for
crops, so my dad did odd jobs to support us. My mom ran a preschool out of the
house.”

“You have a
brother and a sister, how much older are they?” These were heinously boring
questions, she admitted, but Felicity comforted herself in the safety of
questions she already knew answers to.

“Actually, I
have a brother, Colin, who’s three years older, and
two
sisters.”

“Two?”
Felicity tilted her head in confusion. Anya nodded.

“You know
Lory
, she’s two years older than me.
My
other sister, Jennifer, died when she was two months old.
SIDS, I
believe. She died nine months before I was born. My mother never recovered.” Anya
stared off, a faraway look in her eye. “I always felt she was half-ghost,
flitting between the present and the after-life, checking on all four of us.
She went through the motions but her eyes always gave her away. They’d glass
over when she went to see Jennifer.” She shook her head, bringing her attention
to the present.

Stunned,
Felicity’s mouth hung open. This was the first she’d ever heard of
Jennifer.
 
Anya, never the typical
milk-and-cookies grandmother, surprised her in lots of ways, but this was truly
shocking. Anya’s spiritual beliefs lay somewhere within a Pagan, Christian,
Buddhist sandwich with a side of Atheism—not exactly mainstream.
Felicity, spiritually undecided, wondered if she believed in ghosts.

“So is that
why you named Mom, Jenna?”

“Yes. It was
the nickname I used when I talked to my sister. Usually I spoke to her when
Lory
or Colin took my toys or told on me and got me in
trouble.”

“When did
you meet Grandpa?”

“We met when
we were seventeen. His father got a contract to work with an American company
for a year and dragged the whole family with him. Shawn was a breath of fresh air.
He was funny, sweet, and talented. Not at all like the boys I grew up with. I
knew I wanted to marry him by the end of our first conversation.” Anya’s eyes
drifted upwards, remembering herself as young girl.

“When did
you get married?” Felicity asked.

“As soon as
we graduated. We were eighteen. We eloped in Vegas against our parents’ wishes.
Mine disowned me, his were just disappointed.”

“Your
parents disowned you?” Felicity asked, stunned.

“My father
said I was a ‘silly stupid girl’, hanging my hopes on a man who would end up a
street performer, begging for money. My mother never crossed my father so she
didn’t say anything. I think she was proud of me getting out of there, though.
She gave me this as a wedding present.” Anya said, fingering the jade and gold
pendant Felicity had never seen her without. She’d had no idea there was such a
story behind it.

“So off we
went to Hollywood.
Two kids with one big dream.
I’ve
never known anyone so single-minded as your grandfather. He knew what he wanted
and went for it, whole-heartedly. You have a lot of that same quality, I
think.” Felicity blushed, and let her grandmother continue.

“Within the
year he got a record deal and signed me on as his manager so that I could tour
with him. He put together the band, rehearsed till his fingers bled, and
recorded their first album. The rest, as they say, is history.” Anya took a sip
of her lemonade, lost in nostalgia.

“We toured
for two years straight, taking every gig, sleeping anywhere from motels to
couches and floors and, even once, under a blanket in Golden Gate Park. At the
time I thought it was so romantic. Now, of course, I know it was just plain
stupid.” She looked at Felicity as if daring her to try it. Then her face
softened. “And completely unsustainable. After that, the band did another world
tour—year and a half of sold-out performances—with hardly any days
off. By the end they were exhausted. Everyone went
their
separate ways, and we went back to Australia. We had your mom and made the
decision not to tour anymore.”

“Do you have
any regrets?” Felicity asked.

“No. No
regrets. But it’s funny how sometimes the things you wish for most are the ones
that turn out to be furthest from what you want.”

“Hmm,”
Felicity crinkled her brows.
Why would
you wish for something you didn’t want?
She wondered.

Chapter
27

In a hurry
to protect her daughter from the prying eyes of the paparazzi, Jenna didn’t
bother to think about logistics. The gossip hounds were out for blood, circling
the truth without actually seeing it. Jenna couldn’t bear the thought of
Felicity figuring it out on her own, or worse, reading about it once the
reporters closed in. The time had come for a mother/daughter chat.

She stuffed a few things in a carry-on and took the
first flight out, heading home. Her parents’ home, that is. Her own home was
still off limits. She wasn’t ready for that yet.

She tossed
the cab driver a hundred dollar bill as she stepped onto the familiar gravel
drive. The cab took off, leaving her alone in front of the quiet house. The
What If’s knocked around in her head, upsetting her sure-footedness.
What if Felicity already knows
?
Alex would have told me before he said
something to Felicity, right? And what if she’s blissfully unaware and I pierce
that bubble of innocence unnecessarily? Would she want to live with Alex if we
split for good?
She shook her head to quell the deluge, feeling that
familiar anger bubble to the surface mixed with a chest-gripping fear, and
reeling at the unfairness of it all.

“Mom?”
Felicity asked, staring at her like she’d grown two heads. Jenna stood in the
driveway, arms inert at her sides. An overwhelming feeling of love and
affection rushed over her, bringing to mind the image of holding her daughter
for the first time. She squeezed her, smothering her in a giant bear hug.

When
Felicity finally extricated
herself
, coughing, she
opened and closed her mouth in confusion. Her brows furrowed as she inspected
her mother.

“Where are
you going?” Jenna asked realizing Felicity hadn’t come outside to greet her.
She watched Felicity’s forehead wrinkle again, as she swiped her golden coppery
hair off her face. She looked just like her father. The anger she felt toward
Alex lessened slightly, seeing him in their beautiful daughter.

“School.”

“Oh, right.
What time is it? I can take you.” Jenna said in a casual tone, as though it
were perfectly normal to appear unannounced waiting alone in her parents’
driveway.

“It’s okay,
Trey’s picking me up.” Felicity said, gauging her reaction.

As if on
cue, Trey’s bike grumbled up the drive, crunching gravel beneath the tires. He
flicked the kickstand down with his foot as he dismounted.

“Hello Mrs. Anders,” he said, holding a spare
helmet in the crook of his arm.

“Hi Trey.
That’s nice of you to take Felicity to school.”

“Um, yeah,
not a problem,” he said, then turning to Felicity, “You ready?”

Felicity
gawked at her mother for another moment, then nodded and took the helmet.

“Bye, Mom.”

“Bye,
sweetheart. Have a good day! Drive safe!” Jenna called after them, elated to
see her daughter safe and normal. Maybe she could stave off the inevitable a
while longer. Her mom would know what to do.

Anya sat in the breakfast nook, sipping coffee,
reading the paper. It was a painfully nostalgic sight, reverting her to
childhood. No matter how old she got, she always felt like a little girl in her
parents’ house.

“Mom?”

 
Anya looked up over her coffee, nearly
spilling it when she saw Jenna.

“I didn’t
know you were coming back today.” Anya said, looking her over, worry written
all over her softly wrinkled face.
Checking
for what
, Jenna wondered,
boo boos
?

She smiled
inwardly at the thought. A warm wave of affection washed over her again as she
plopped down onto the chair opposite her mom. She took an orange out of the
centerpiece, tossing it from one hand to the other like a hot potato. Her
nerves dissipated and she nearly forgot why she’d come in the first place.
Nearly.

Anya
demonized tabloids the way most mothers do strangers offering a ride. It was
forbidden to bring one into the house. What was it she said? Something about
words having power and not reading them protecting you from malevolence. Jenna
never remembered the exact wording, though she’d heard it often enough. The
nerves reappeared as Jenna tried to formulate an excuse for having read one and
now coming home to attempt damage control.
 
Seeing it through her mom’s eyes, it seemed silly. Maybe she was
overreacting this time.

Anya waited,
not touching the partially eaten grapefruit in front of her. Jenna looked up at
her mother, noticing the gray roots of her hair, the slight stoop to her once
perfect posture, and wondered how long she had until she saw that image
reflected in the mirror. Sighing, she decided to start at the beginning. There
were enough problems in her life because of omissions and she didn’t have the
energy to add to that list.

When she
finished, she glanced up, making eye contact for the first time. Anya looked
away and Jenna couldn’t be sure, but she thought her mom’s eyes looked watery. Anya
never cried.

“So what is
it you’d like to do?” Anya asked.

Good
question
, Jenna thought. “I want
the facts. I want to know all the information and get to make up my mind,
without anyone telling me how I feel or omitting details for my protection.” It
escaped her lips before she’d thought it, but hearing herself say it aloud,
realized it was exactly what she wanted. Her worst fears had come true. But she
was still here. She hadn’t collapsed or spiraled down the drain of despair. She
was taking things as they came—one thing at a time.

“What can I
do?” Anya asked. Jenna was taken aback by Anya’s uncharacteristic response.
She’d expected resistance or challenge and not having to explain herself, she
felt relieved. Her mom on her side felt like an army.

***

It was
already dark outside when Felicity returned after school and soccer practice. Shawn,
Anya and Jenna moved about the kitchen, chopping, cooking, and laughing.
Felicity was sure she’d stepped into the twilight zone. The earthy,
mouth-watering smell of garlic in olive oil wafting through the house summoned
her to this alternate universe and she clutched her stomach in hunger.

She spent
all day trying to convince
herself
nothing was wrong,
that her mom letting her on Trey’s motorcycle was a fluke. She knew something
was off, but the happy sounds of her family cooking together put a smile on her
face. If this was an invasion of body snatchers, it seemed a good trade. She
could go along with happy.