“What’s it gonna take to change your mind?” And then he’d plead with me to go to a movie or out to eat or at least let him give me a ride home.
I told him no as long as I could stand it, but then one day, I just didn’t see the point. My status at school had gone up so much just from flirting with him, and I thought Darlene was right that I’d be crazy not to capitalize on this while I could. Of course Mary Beth wouldn’t like it, but so what? She wasn’t my mother.
I had myself convinced she’d never even have to know. She was very involved with two new customers: one with breast cancer she couldn’t bring herself to tell her husband about; one with what Mary Beth called a “fear of fear.” I was still updating the charts with her; actually I was doing more now, because I was older and better able to understand the process. “You’re a real help to me,” she would say, after I pointed out a pattern or repetition on someone’s chart that she hadn’t noticed. Then she would smile. “I bet someday you’ll be doing readings yourself, hon.”
I was flattered, but I always told her it wasn’t going to happen. “I don’t have the gift,” I’d say, and I meant it, too. It was a gift, I knew that, because she was still as good at it as ever—except when it came to me. I was the one person she couldn’t and didn’t understand. Even when I sang songs that were disgustingly obvious about cheating hearts and guilty lies, she didn’t guess that I was sneaking around seeing Kyle.
Later, I found out that she did notice the songs and she did think they had a meaning. She even kept track of them on a chart, and as far as I know, it’s the only chart she ever got completely wrong. But it was understandable, I guess. Since it had never occurred to her that I was a liar, she had to conclude that I was singing those songs as my way of telling her, over and over again, that she was.
chapter
seven
A s upset as I was, I did try to give her the benefit of the doubt. I spent an entire week jotting down every song she hummed; I thought it was a truly brilliant plan. I would present her with her own chart, and see what she would make of it. I would help her discover how she really felt about Ben.
The chart went on for pages, and she said she was impressed I’d gone to all this trouble. “It does make me feel a little like I’ve been spied on,” she admitted, before proceeding to hand back all my hard work with a shrug. “A person can’t ever read themselves, it’s too dangerous.”
“Come on, Mary Beth. Just take a look at it.”
“I told you, I can’t. It would be like being part of your own experiment.”
Her using the science language she picked up from Ben just made me more determined. I stuck the pages out. “Tell me what you would say if it wasn’t you.”
“But it is me.”
“Pretend it isn’t.”
I kept pushing her until she took the chart from my hand and told me she would say that the person was a song reader.
I smirked. “Thanks a lot.”
“I’m serious. You think these songs are mine, Leeann?” She tapped her fingernail on the chart. “Each and every one of these is an echo in my head of somebody else’s problem.”
“What about ‘Golden Slumbers’?”
“What about it?”
“You’ve been singing it as long as I can remember. It can’t be a customer’s.”
“I used to like it, but now it belongs to whoever tells me they’re hearing it.”
“But nobody did report that song this week. I checked.”
“What’s your point?”
“Don’t you remember playing it for Ben when he first moved in with us? Couldn’t it be that you’re humming it now because you’re still trying to figure out what happened with him?”
She was so taken aback, she looked almost afraid. I was wondering how she could react so strongly to such an obvious thing when she rearranged her mouth into a dismissive smile.
“Or it could be that I’m humming it now because a customer reported
I told him no as long as I could stand it, but then one day, I just didn’t see the point. My status at school had gone up so much just from flirting with him, and I thought Darlene was right that I’d be crazy not to capitalize on this while I could. Of course Mary Beth wouldn’t like it, but so what? She wasn’t my mother.
I had myself convinced she’d never even have to know. She was very involved with two new customers: one with breast cancer she couldn’t bring herself to tell her husband about; one with what Mary Beth called a “fear of fear.” I was still updating the charts with her; actually I was doing more now, because I was older and better able to understand the process. “You’re a real help to me,” she would say, after I pointed out a pattern or repetition on someone’s chart that she hadn’t noticed. Then she would smile. “I bet someday you’ll be doing readings yourself, hon.”
I was flattered, but I always told her it wasn’t going to happen. “I don’t have the gift,” I’d say, and I meant it, too. It was a gift, I knew that, because she was still as good at it as ever—except when it came to me. I was the one person she couldn’t and didn’t understand. Even when I sang songs that were disgustingly obvious about cheating hearts and guilty lies, she didn’t guess that I was sneaking around seeing Kyle.
Later, I found out that she did notice the songs and she did think they had a meaning. She even kept track of them on a chart, and as far as I know, it’s the only chart she ever got completely wrong. But it was understandable, I guess. Since it had never occurred to her that I was a liar, she had to conclude that I was singing those songs as my way of telling her, over and over again, that she was.
chapter
seven
A s upset as I was, I did try to give her the benefit of the doubt. I spent an entire week jotting down every song she hummed; I thought it was a truly brilliant plan. I would present her with her own chart, and see what she would make of it. I would help her discover how she really felt about Ben.
The chart went on for pages, and she said she was impressed I’d gone to all this trouble. “It does make me feel a little like I’ve been spied on,” she admitted, before proceeding to hand back all my hard work with a shrug. “A person can’t ever read themselves, it’s too dangerous.”
“Come on, Mary Beth. Just take a look at it.”
“I told you, I can’t. It would be like being part of your own experiment.”
Her using the science language she picked up from Ben just made me more determined. I stuck the pages out. “Tell me what you would say if it wasn’t you.”
“But it is me.”
“Pretend it isn’t.”
I kept pushing her until she took the chart from my hand and told me she would say that the person was a song reader.
I smirked. “Thanks a lot.”
“I’m serious. You think these songs are mine, Leeann?” She tapped her fingernail on the chart. “Each and every one of these is an echo in my head of somebody else’s problem.”
“What about ‘Golden Slumbers’?”
“What about it?”
“You’ve been singing it as long as I can remember. It can’t be a customer’s.”
“I used to like it, but now it belongs to whoever tells me they’re hearing it.”
“But nobody did report that song this week. I checked.”
“What’s your point?”
“Don’t you remember playing it for Ben when he first moved in with us? Couldn’t it be that you’re humming it now because you’re still trying to figure out what happened with him?”
She was so taken aback, she looked almost afraid. I was wondering how she could react so strongly to such an obvious thing when she rearranged her mouth into a dismissive smile.
“Or it could be that I’m humming it now because a customer reported
Similar Books
