Chapter Text
Georgia, 1986
☪
The first thing I remember is that it was fall, and a tall blond man held my mom’s hand. He let go of her to grab hold of me and then swung me into a pile of leaves. I think that’s probably what happiness is.
My dad left after that. I don’t know exactly where he went off to, and I don’t know why. But he left. And there’s been some kind of hole in me ever since.
Mom’s tried to fill that hole with smothering amounts of affection, grilled cheese sandwiches, and by taking me to my aunt’s parties. But nothing has ever quite patched me up to be whole again.
She won’t let me speak about him and doesn’t have pictures of him. I’ve even forgotten what he looks like now, except that he had pale skin and bright sunny hair, just like me. I don’t even know his name except for “Al,” which is what she called him.
One day, when I’m older, I’m gonna go looking for him. But being seven has its limits.
“Alaca!” Mom called from the other side of the library. Someone shushed her. She whisper-yelled: “Alaca!”
“Yeah?” I closed the book of records and slid it under my chair.
She marched on over to me, bouncing up and down in her work heels which she hadn’t quite yet mastered walking in. “I thought I told you to stay in the children’s section, honey-nut.”
“I’m sorry.” I crossed my legs at the heel.
Mom’s eyes flickered down. She sighed, facepalming. “The book of birth records again, really?”
“No, it’s death records this time.”
She crouched down and pulled the book out from under the chair. “We’ve talked about this, Alaca.”
I reached out to snatch the book from her hands, but she was already on her way to return it to the records section of the library that I was all too familiar with.
Mom came back with that same ole look on her face, the one she’d had since he left. She missed him too. And I knew that almost everything about me reminded her of him. Even my name, which was a mix-up of hers and his.
“Come on, let’s go home. We gotta get you ready.”
☪
Getting ready was always a process with Mom involved. She brushed my hair for a few minutes too long, even if there weren’t any tangles or strands out of place. I think it calmed her and gave her some sort of peace at the end of a long, hard workday.
She then picked out a dress that a three-year-old would wear to Sunday school.
“That’s too girly,” I said.
“What? This?” She looked at it. “I think it’s cute.”
I shook my head no. “I wanna wear what the girls on MTV wear.”
Mom laughed, her golden-brown curls bouncing around her head. “Honey-nut, I’d be caught dead in the street if I let you wear what the girls wear on MTV.” She stopped and thought, putting her finger up to her lips. “But I guess you are going to a party. I’ll find something else.” She retreated again to the slide-door closet.
I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror of the vanity and tried to piece together what my dad looked like based on my features as well as my memories of him. Memories that were slipping away.
I had straight blonde hair that glistened in the sun, just like him. And pale skin that never caught any blemishes or freckles. Thin, straight lips that I assumed he also had since Mom’s were full and pouty.
Mom was soft, like hot maple syrup pouring over fluffy pancakes. She had warm, tan skin and freckles, and her chin was round, barely visible—not angular and straight like Dad’s. I saw I had her chin and wished I had his.
But I don’t think I had either of their eyes. Mom’s were honey-brown. And mine were a silvery-blue, like ice crystals. I couldn’t remember Dad’s eyes. I know I would’ve remembered if I had his, though. I know I would.
“What about this one?”
I turned around on my puffy stool which looked like a cupcake. Mom was holding up a dress that matched my eyes, with sparkles and glitter galore. It was more silver than blue with fringe at the bottom, reminding me of ‘20s Flappers I had read about in a book from the library.
“I like that better,” I said, nodding and smiling.
“You like it? I’m so glad. I think your Aunt Scarlett got it for you,” she said, laying the dress down on the bed. “You’ll have to show it to her tonight.”
“I will.” I held up my arms and Mom pulled my t-shirt up over my head. The next thing I knew, the dress was on me and I twirled about in the vanity mirror. “I love it,” I said, taking the straps and draping them off my shoulders.
“Oh, no you don’t.” Mom immediately pulled the straps back up. She sighed and ran her hands through her hair, her nails getting stuck in her curls. “Where has my little girl gone?”
“I’m still here, Mom.”
“No, you’re not. You’ve been replaced by some MTV supermodel!”
“Mom.”
She smiled and giggled. “Come on, honey-nut. I gotta get ready too.”
Mom took forever to get ready. She changed out of her work clothes and sighed a deep breath of relief when she took her corset and heels off. She was more comfortable and looked more like herself without the shoulder pads and animal print suit and skirt. Then she took a bath and I stood outside her door, telling her about my day at school while she soaked in the tub.
“There was a new boy at school today.”
“Really? Who?” she said, her voice muffled by the door between us.
“I don’t remember his name, but I think he was a Mexican.”
“Oh, it must be the son of that Ortez lady. They just moved here. Your aunts invited them to the party tonight! You’ll have to say hello.”
My cheeks suddenly flushed red. I didn’t say a word.
“What?” Mom called out at my silence.
“Do I have to?” I winced, squeezing my hands together behind my back.
“Well, you don’t have to, but it might be nice. Everybody needs friends.”
“What if he doesn’t speak any English?”
“Well, you don’t know that.”
Mom got out of the shower, put on her bathrobe, and began her makeup. I watched intently as she put on her mascara and dreamed of the day when I could get everyone’s attention with my curled black lashes that “accentuated” my natural silvery-blue eyes—or at least that’s what my aunts always told me.
“When will I be old enough to try?”
“When you’re ten,” she said, smacking her lips together with dark pink lipstick. “Three more years.”
“That’s forever,” I whined, tugging at her sleeves.
“Hey, watch it,” she warned, pulling her arm back. “This dress was expensive.”
I took a step back. “Sorry.”
“It’s alright.” Mom’s eyes softened and she smiled her knowing smile. “I know you’re not used to these kinds of clothes, honey-nut.”
I nodded, looking down.
“Yeah. I wish I could wear t-shirts and flip-flops all day, every day.” She sighed. “But not with this new job. I’ve gotta stand out in the community now, even at my own sisters’ parties.”
“But why?”
“That’s just what’s expected of me now.”
“I wish you didn’t have to stand out and could just be you.”
Her eyes lifted at the corners slightly. “Me too.”
☪
The wooden back deck and patio were lit up like the stars, with colorful Christmas lights lining the ceiling, panels, and boards. It would’ve just been a plain ole dark wooden deck without them. But with them, it was magical, like Disney World.
Mom and I walked down the wooden stairway, heading toward the spacious hardwood dance floor. She looked so elegant with that shawl draped about her shoulders, like a princess—but not like herself.
“Well, well… Who is that walkin’ down the stairway?” Aunt Scarlett called from below.
“There’s not just one, but two I don’t recognize,” Aunt Mildred said in response, her arms crossed with her normal half-scowl on her face.
“It’s just me, sisters,” Mom said. “It’s this little girl that I don’t quite know where she came from.”
I turned to look up at her. "Mom..."
“She’s just growing more and more every day!” Aunt Cali ran over, coming up the stairway to meet us. She hugged me, squeezing me so tight even with her slight frame and build. She pulled back. “Growing into a beautiful young lady.”
"Thanks, Aunt Cali."
“I see you’ve got the dress on I bought for you.” Aunt Scarlett met us at the bottom of the stairway. “You look quite stylish, young miss. Much more stylish than your mother ever dreamed of being.” She smirked at Mom.
Mom stuck her tongue out. “At least I don’t have to fake my beauty.”
Aunt Scarlett tossed her thick brunette curls with highlights to the side. “Beauty is a process, dear sister. Nobody can look this good naturally.”
“Hmph.” Mom stuck her nose up. “I guess I’m figuring that out with this new dress code.”
“Being mayor’s assistant isn’t quite fitting in with your wardrobe, is it now?” Aunt Scarlett quirked a sleek, penciled-in black brow.
“I had to get a whole new one.”
“You had to borrow mine,” Aunt Scarlett corrected.
They continued their sisterly rivalry as Aunt Cali drew me to the side. She was only a tiny bit taller than me, and just as thin. The smallest in the family, with sandy blonde hair and freckles and bright green eyes. “Have you seen the new treehouse, Alaca?” she said in her high-pitched, almost squeaky voice.
“No, I don’t think so,” I said, my eyes following Aunt Mildred as she crept behind Aunt Cali, heading for the dessert table.
“Well, let’s go check it out. I don’t think it was finished the last time you visited.”
We walked outside, beyond the deck, heading toward the forest. And up in one of the big oak trees in the back yard, a huge treehouse. It had the same Christmas lights as the deck and patio, both on the inside and outside of it.
“Do you think it’s too much?” Aunt Cali asked as we walked through the crunchy leaves. She bit down on her nails.
I looked up again, noticing that through the carved-out window there was a chandelier hanging from the ceiling. “No, I don’t think so at all.”
“Phew. Okay, good. I was in charge of decorating it—and you know how much I love fancy things—but I hoped it wouldn’t be too much for the kids.”
“Kids?”
“Yeah! This is where you and the other kids will be tonight.”
I furrowed my brows. “We’re not gonna be on the deck with the rest of y’all?”
She sighed. “Not tonight, dearie. We’re having a party just for the adults tonight. But! We’ve got a kiddy bar on the inside and a guy to make drinks for y’all! He’s just great. I’m so glad we hired him.”
I nodded. “That sounds fun.”
Truthfully, I wanted to be by my mom’s and aunts’ sides tonight. At all the parties before, the adults and kids were never separated. It almost felt like I was being kicked out.
“Yeah! I just know y’all are gonna have the best time. It’s gonna be the coolest treehouse—much less the coolest party—these kids have probably ever been to!”
We stood at the bottom of the tree, and my eyes trailed up the wooden bars that were nailed into it. The house stood about fifteen feet above the ground.
“Well, go on,” she ushered me. “Everyone else will be here soon. Make sure to greet them and welcome them!”
I reluctantly climbed up and waved goodbye. The deck was visible from the treehouse window, but it still felt like I was being kicked out—like I wasn’t wanted—and that some secret meeting was being held by my family and the other important members of the community. Something in my gut knew it wasn’t just an “adult party.”
“Mademoiselle Alaca!” a man's voice with an unmistakably French accent sounded from behind.
I turned around from the window and saw a lanky, trim man shaking a fizzy drink in a bottle from behind the kiddy bar.
“Hello, sir,” I said, stepping forward.
“Enchantée,” he said, a strand of hair toppling over into his face. “Jean-Georges, at your service. Would you care for a drink?”
“No thanks.”
“Well,” he set the bottle down, “I’ll be here all night. You want something, I’ve got it. Except alcohol.” He winked.
I smiled a little, and then took a seat at one of the tables in the gargantuan treehouse. It was certainly larger than any treehouse I’d ever been in before.
Just then, the thought of ten, twenty, thirty kids filling up the treehouse in a only few minutes crept into my mind…
My stomach churned, and I sighed, laying my head down on the wooden tabletop.
Hostess. I’m not cut out to be a hostess…
Was Dad a good host?
Everything suddenly turned a little foggy, like the evening mists outside the window, stretching across the forest.
I wondered—was he outgoing, like Mom? Or anti-social, like me?
I hoped he was like me.
☪
After an hour of “putting on airs”—as Aunt Scarlett always told me to do at parties when welcoming the guests—I finally had the chance to rest. I sat in one of the rocking chairs on the small back patio outside the treehouse. The party inside was big, and loud. More kids than I thought possible squeezed into every corner, crack, and crevice. Even some had climbed up to higher parts of the tree since there wasn’t more room. I wondered if that was some kind of hazard.
None of them were really my friends though. I recognized some kids from school. But I lived out in the country, not in a neighborhood like most of them. So they all knew each other and I was just the niece of the ladies putting on the party. I said hello and that was it. No one wanted to talk to me after that.
I sighed and lifted my head to the stars that shone through the tree branches. I shuddered at the windy chill that blew through the forest. It felt like Halloween even though it wasn’t. Like I was in a haunted forest, or the spooky haunted house and maze that my aunts hosted every year.
But then, a terrace of sorts on the top of the roof of the treehouse caught my eye. I looked up and saw a lone kid standing by himself, leaning against the railing. Squinting, I realized who it was.
Everybody needs friends, Alaca.
Make sure to greet anyone who comes through the door!
My mom and aunt’s voices rang in my ear.
But how had I missed him? He didn’t even come through the front door at all… Perhaps he had just climbed up to the roof without coming inside.
I had to pull myself together and do what I was supposed to. Taking a deep breath, I climbed up even higher to the rooftop of the treehouse. I felt vibrations below me from the music that boomed within. Turning my head, I could see the lights from the “adult party” off through the woods a ways.
“What do you want?”
I froze.
The voice was from a young boy, but it sounded so hostile. Not boyish and high-pitched like most others I’d heard.
I turned around to face the new kid, but he had his back to me as he leaned over the railing. Even bending over, he was about a foot taller than me.
“Oh, hi. I’m… I’m Alaca,” I said. I wasn’t nervous, but let’s just say I’ve never been the best when it comes to awkward social situations.
“Alaca?” He scoffed. “What kinda name is that?”
I blinked, wide-eyed. Fidgeting with my hands, I backed up a little. “Well…” I tried to come up with some kind of retort. “What kinda kid is all by himself at a party?”
He turned and I saw the side of his face. “Could say the same for you.”
An uncharacteristic boldness came over me. I put my hands on my hips. “Actually, I’ll have you know, mister, I am the hostess for this party, and I’m just trying to make sure everyone is having a good time.”
“Well, little miss hostess—” he snapped back—“I didn’t want to come to your fancy-schmancy get-together in the first place.”
My face softened. “You didn’t?”
He faced the forest again. “No. My mom made me come. And you and your family made her come.”
"Oh..." Inching toward the wooden railing, I tried to see if he’d let me stand beside him. “Well… we just like having new members of the community feel welcomed here,” I squeaked.
“What if we don’t want to be welcomed?” he snarled.
I stood beside him—with a fair amount of distance between us—and snuck a few glances at his face. He seemed so focused… like a hunter staring off into the forest. As I got a view of him from the side, I noticed he was a little pudgy. I almost giggled. Now he seemed a bit more like a young boy and not so intimidating.
“I’m sorry you feel that way,” I said. “You don’t have to come back to any more parties if you don’t want to.”
He just stayed silent.
I shriveled up a little. “So…” My fingernails dug into the wood on the railing. “You got a name?”
His head slowly turned to face me, and we locked eyes for a moment. His were dark and chocolatey, with a hint of hazel. He really was just a boy, but I could see some kind of tiredness in his face. A tiredness I’d never seen in anyone my age before.
“Tyler.”
I almost smiled. “Nice to meet you, Tyler.” I held out my hand, but he didn’t shake it and instead just turned back to face the forest.
I cleared my throat and put my hand away. Attempting to change the subject, I started: “So, uhh… Tyler, what—”
“Why don’t you just go back to your parents? Leave me alone.”
My parents…
I backed away. Everything turned foggy again. And cold.
Tyler looked at me. “What?”
I shook my head. “It’s just me and my mom.” It took everything in me to not climb down from the roof right then and there. I just wanted to curl up in a ball and be left alone. I wanted to go home and pretend I was young and happy again.
Tyler let go of the railing and took a few steps toward me. He was so tall… for a boy who couldn’t have been older than nine. “Really?”
I was surprised at the sudden softness in his voice.
“Yeah. My Dad… He left. A long time ago.”
“Mine, too.”
I looked up at him again. I guess I hadn’t realized it at first, but it really was just him and his mom who moved here. No brothers, no sisters, no father…
“Let me guess,” he said. “You’re an only kid, too?”
I nodded.
“Me, too.”
Just then, there was a crinkling sound from below us. Someone trudged through the leaves toward the treehouse.
We both looked down. A short yet stout lady with thick, black hair flowing all the way to her knees stared up at us. She started yelling at Tyler in Spanish.
He rolled his eyes. Then faced me one last time. “Gotta go.”
“Oh, okay.” I brushed myself off and straightened up. “Maybe I’ll see you around at school sometime.”
One of the corners of his mouth lifted slightly. “I doubt it.” He climbed down from the treehouse and my eyes followed as he and his mom disappeared into the night.