Chapter 14
The learning-
Saturday, when everyone went to soccer, I decided to clean the Sanibel home. I was tired of the slobby conditions. I wanted it to look and feel more like Mandy’s home. I had been going to her house for tutoring and had a chance to see what a clean house looked and filled like. The atmosphere there was so peaceful and tidy. At the Sanibels’, it felt like the filth was going to swallow me up. I spent the whole morning and afternoon cleaning it.
After everything was clean, I went and took a shower. I was still only taking one shower a week there, but it wasn’t as bad, because I was showering at school during PE. For some reason, I felt more privacy in the locker room than I did at the Sanibel house. As I was getting out of the shower, the clan came home, their exclamations of surprise and wonderment could be heard as they walked in to a tidy home.
“Everything is so clean.” I heard Elizabeth say.
“Who did it? Joshua asked.
“Does this mean Child Protective Services is coming over again?” Angela asked.
“Wow,” Mike said.
I quickly got dressed and came downstairs with a towel wrapped around my head. What I saw sickened me. As the Sanibel’s filed into the family room, they left a trail of filth. Cleats and stinky socks were dropped everywhere. Shin guards were thrown on the couch and floor, juice boxes dropped in the middle of the room. Where was their pride? Could they not truly appreciate a clean home and desire to keep it that way? Sure they were slobs, but come on, I had cleaned everything! What made them think it was okay to trash my hard work? Peggy ran over and waited for me at the bottom of the stairs.
“Mercy me, Alora, you have been busy,” she said as she hugged me. She kissed the top of my head and went to her recliner and turned the TV on. She hadn’t even said thanks. No one said thanks, and although they were surprised by the cleanliness, they didn’t appreciate it. Their disregard for my gift hardened my heart. I vowed I would never clean for them again.
It was early evening, and I was fuming. I needed to get away from them. I went outside where I planned to walk to the campground, but it was too cold. Still wanting my space, I went to the shed and turned on the propane heater. After I fried two small bluegills, I curled on the cot with Taz and a blanket, reading until it was too dark to see anymore. I was a little chilly, but the space heater did a good job at keeping the shed cozy. Of course, I knew it was too cold to go out on the water. I decided not return to the house. I must have fallen asleep pretty early. To my regret, the next day was Sunday. I didn’t hate religion, I just hated the social intermixing with church. Everyone there was so much happier than I was.
That day at church, my attention was caught. One of the speakers talked about heritage. I couldn’t believe it, for it was the very thing Mandy and I had been talking about all week. I had a strong desire to learn what my linage was. Where did I come from? Was I Russian or American?
The day had warmed up, and it was seventy degrees outside. I really hoped Peggy and I would go out on the boat, because I really wanted to talk to her about her heritage. I didn’t have to be disappointed, because, Peggy lugged out the boat, and we took it on the water.
“I sure have been missing this,” Peggy said. Had she really initiated the conversation before an hour was up?
“Me too,” I replied. “This is my favorite time of day.”
“We haven’t talked for a while, how are things going?”
I smiled big, “Good!”
“I like your smile. You know, when you first came to us, you didn’t have a smile. The more you discover yourself, the more you smile.”
I smiled even wider.
“Peggy,” I started.
“If you want,” Peggy interrupted. “You can keep calling me Mom. I really liked it, and while you live with me, I am your Mom. If you aren’t comfortable with it, then don’t worry about it.”
“I like the idea, Mom,” I said.
Peggy smiled as tears flowed. She dabbed at them, and apologized. “I am sorry. It means so much to hear you call me Mom. I have worried so much about you. I don’t know if you have ever had a real mom. Everyone deserves a real mom. I want to be yours if you will accept me.”
“I will,” I replied.
Peggy lunged into a hug and held me for a while. Her embrace felt so powerful. I could sense the passing of love flow between us. I could actually feel it, for it was something that had bulk to it, sustaining me. I was on the verge of holding it, controlling it, but I didn’t quite understand it. Suddenly, I felt like I had spiritual hands. I took those hands and grasped the love, then returned the love to Peggy. The very moment I did, she gasped. I know she felt the exchange.
What had happened? I had some sort of control over emotions; mine and hers. The connection to those spiritual arms slowly disappeared. I desperately wanted to know how to get them back.
“Wow,” Peggy said as she let go. “That was strong, did you feel it?”
“I did,” I replied.
We sat there in silence, enjoying the peaceful union we had interchanged. Finally, I decided to break the silence.
“Will you tell me about your heritage?”
“Ahh,” Peggy responded with glee in her voice. “Someone was listening today at church.”
I was embarrassed to admit I had been. I didn’t want her to start preaching church to me. I wanted to know about her heritage.
“Well, let me think. I am Norwegian. Not full Norwegian, but half Norwegian. The other part of me is French. My great, great, great, grandpa was a Viking King. His name was Halver. He was a blood-thirsty man, and he went around conquering little fishing villages. I don’t know if he was a real Viking. Most died out a thousand years before him, but he patterned his life after them. I guess it is no different than the pirates we have today off of Somalia. Anyway, my grandpa killed a lot of people, and I can’t really be proud of him. He also spread his seed wherever he went. He met my great, great, great, grandma on the shores in what is now Toulon, France. It is not clear if she was his wife, or his victim. But whatever it was, my great, great, grandpa Peders was conceived. He was raised French. Peders married my great, great grandma who was also French. She gave birth to my great grandpa, Anders.”
I was struggling to keep up with the pedigree she was explaining to me. She took me through the origin and names of all her early grandparents extending all the way back to Halvar. I found the whole idea of Vikings, Norway, and France real exciting.
Her story enthralled me. I couldn’t even trace my life back a year, and Peggy could go back to her great, great, great, grandpa. “I sure wish I knew my heritage.” I must say, I was very envious.
“I bet you do.”
“What kind of traditions are in your family because of your heritage?”
“That’s a good question. I guess everything seems natural to me, but let me think about it a moment and pinpoint where things came from.” Since Peggy thought so long, I thought she had either fallen asleep, or had forgotten my question. When I started drifting asleep, she began.
“Well, my grandparents really love July. They set off fireworks on the fourth to celebrate our nation’s freedom. Then, they set them off on July fourteenth to celebrate something called Bastille Day. I really don’t understand what they are celebrating on the fourteenth except that has something to do with the Storming of Bastille; it’s a French Holiday. And then, of course we celebrate the twenty fourth of July. This is when the pioneers came to Utah, and it’s a state holiday. They usually have picnics, fireworks, and even concerts. It is such a fun time.
“On May first, Grandpa Charles always got Grandma Ruth a Lily-of-the Valley flower to wear. Something to do with his country, not hers. And then let’s see, what are some of Grandma’s traditions? Grandma always made the best bread. I guarantee you can’t get anything like it around here. And then she made something
detestable. It was called Lutefisk. It was nasty! She would soak a fish in lye and then leave it out to dry. It made me sick. I hate, hate, hated it!”
“Are your grandparents still alive?”
“Oh yes, and they are older than dirt.”
“Can I meet them?”
“I’m not sure, honey. They live in Southern Utah, and I am not really much of a driver. If you could get Mike to take us there, then I would love to, but it is impossible to pull Mike away from his beloved XBOX.” I knew what she was talking about.
“What is Mike’s heritage?”
“Oh Alora, it’s getting late and I think we have had enough genealogy lesson for today. If you want to learn about the Sanibels, then maybe you should ask Mike yourself. It might be some good bonding time for both of you.”
Fat chance of that.
“What do you think my heritage is?”
“I don’t know, Alora. I often wonder if you are Russian. That is a complicated culture. You can check out some books at the library to learn more about it.”
“If I am not Russian, then I don’t want to waste my time learning about the culture of my captors.”
“Makes sense,” Peggy said. “But it is never a bad idea to learn about another culture. Think about it.” She turned the small engine on and headed to the shore.
…
The next week of school went by fast. I was very busy with my tutors at school, and with Mandy after school. I liked learning, but disappointed by my slow pace. Things were clicking into place, but I was still miles behind the other kids in seventh grade. My peer support was working well. I was making friends. Everyone Aleaha or Britney introduced me to seemed interested in me. Of course, they all bombarded me with questions about my time in the cement room.
I was happy everyone was willing to give me a second chance. They quickly forgot their original opinion of me as the dumb kid and formed their own impressions, and for the most part, they all seemed to have a positive responses to me. There was only one small group who didn’t seem to care for me, and it was headed by Angela. I don’t know why she didn’t like me. Maybe it was because she felt like she had enough sisters and she didn’t have room in her heart for one more.
Peggy thought I should join an after school club. Suddenly, Mike seemed to have an opinion in my welfare. He was insistent for me to join the Chess Club. They met every Wednesday after school. It would mean I would have to skip tutoring that day. I hated the idea of missing tutoring, but Mike signed me up and demanded I go. The kids in it were not ones my peer supports introduced me to. They were the intellectuals of the school, the nerds. I hoped by joining the chess club I wouldn’t share the same title as them-NERD. I was only going to do it because Mike forced me.
Since I was getting tutored after school, Monday meetings with London were omitted. I felt awful about missing them, but I had no way to contact her. One night while I was sleeping in the house, I was awakened by small pebbles hitting my bedroom window. Fear filled me, thinking it might be the Russians. I was about to run and get Mike, but out of curiosity looked out my window into the yard. Down below stood London, waving up at me. Relieved, I quietly slipped out of my room, making my way through the house and out to the yard. I should have remembered London was a hugger, but I had forgotten. When I came out the door, she threw herself at me, wrapping her solid arms around me, giving me a long squeeze. The cold of the night nipped through my pajamas.
“Oh Alora, are you alright? I was just so worried about you when you missed our meeting. Are you alright? Are the Sanibel’s being good to you?”
“I am fine. Things are actually going really well for me. I am starting to make friends, and I am getting really busy. Hey, I feel bad that I have missed meeting with you. I have started taking tutoring after school, and I haven’t been able to make it to the store to meet you. You haven’t given me any way to contact you.”
“I know. I am sorry. Let me give you my phone number.” London reached into her purse and pulled out a business card. It said, London Bridges, Hair Consultant.
I couldn’t stop myself from laughing. “Are you really called London Bridges?”
“The name came with the husband,” she said somewhat sheepishly.
I laughed again. “I am sorry, I don’t mean to make fun of you, but it is weird you married a Mr. Bridges.”
“Gee, thanks, Alora.”
“Sorry.”
“So how are we going to meet up? Do you want to meet me during your lunch period at school?”
I wasn’t sure why we needed to keep meeting. I liked London, but I didn’t know the point of our secret meetings. Since I had been making so many friends, there was no way I wanted to skip out lunch with them to secretly meet with a middle aged lady.
“No, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I responded, trying not to hurt her feelings.
“We could meet one evening a week.”
“No, that wouldn’t work either.” I didn’t want to miss out on my fishing time with Peggy.
“Well, what would work?”
I thought about it. Nothing really happened after church on Sundays. “How about Sundays?”
“Oh, Sundays, that is family time,” she said. “Between my meetings and everything I have going, I don’t know how to make that work.”
“That is fine.”
“No, no it isn’t fine. We need to keep meeting. I will make it work. Can you meet me early Sunday morning, say 6am?”
6am! She was insane. I wanted to blurt out-no way, but instead I agreed.
“Where should we meet? I don’t want to walk to the Country Store that early in the morning,” I said.
“I don’t know, do you know anywhere else?”
“Well, I usually sleep in the shed on weekends. You can come wake me up in the shed. Peggy never comes and gets me until 7am.”
“WHY DO YOU SLEEP IN THE SHED? Is that some sort of punishment?”
“Oh no, I like sleeping out there”
“WHY?”
“Because, it is the only place in this house I can find real peace.”
London thought for a moment. “Yeah, that makes sense.”
A breeze kicked up and instantly froze me through my pajamas. I shook.
“Oh, I don’t want you to get sick. I will let you get back in the house. Thank you for coming out to talk to me. I will see you Sunday morning, 6am in the shed.”
It sounded like such a strange thing, but I agreed. Quickly, I dashed back inside and back to my warm covers.