chapter twenty:

Returning to school after winter break, I realized that there was not one cool person at my school. Like I didn’t know that already, but I was hoping for a miracle. I was hoping that at least one person had transferred in from one of the public high-schools with an attitude, with a different spark. I looked around. Nope, still the same zombies. The wannabe bad girls, metal heads, aqua-net teased –up skin-tight stone washed jeans girl, as well as the goodie-good preppy girls, still mostly Irish, with their Izod shirts and pink socks. And of course the girls that wore the leg warmers and the headbands, all looking as if they just stepped out of the movie Flash Dance. There were even the girls that wore only one glove like Michael Jackson. What was that all about?
I needed a new look. Gone were the days of my cape and fedora hat. I was so over Duran Duran. And what was up with looking like the singer Madonna! I will never dye my hair blonde nor wear big T-shirts or fluorescent headbands with matching rubber bracelets. It was just not me. I needed to find a look that would define my North-side city attitude. I wasn’t going punk rock, which was a little too aggressive. I just couldn’t shave my head into a Mohawk, as much as it would piss my mother off, and she would never allow me to buy a black leather biker jacket nor put a safety pin through my ear lobes, let alone my cheek. I really didn’t want to look ugly; Mother Nature already took care of that for me. Plus, I tried listening to the Sex Pistols over at my cousin Johnny’s, and I couldn’t understand what the hell they were singing about. It was more like yelling and it was way too political for me. I really couldn’t relate to the whole “down with the Queen” since I am an American. Johnny was jumping on his bed looking like an ape, trying to imitate Sid Vicious with a snarled up lip that just made him look retarded. Plus everybody knew that punk rock music was dead. It was all a fashion statement now.
Maybe it was me. Marie had no problem fitting in with the whole preppy look at St. Scholastica. Her uniform is always nicely pressed even though she is still always late to school and spends just as much time in detention as I do, but her hair is always combed back in a cute little ponytail. She joined the Pom-Pom club, the Volleyball team; she is even thinking about running for sophomore class president. I can’t say I have done the same, can’t say I really want too. I got no direction, no focus, what I need is some sort of hobby. My God, I am starting to sound like my mother!
What I needed was to find a friend. Mai and Vickie became best of friends over Christmas break. I guess they realized they had a lot in common—boys! I just give them dirty looks whenever I saw them in class. Mai tried to talk to me, telling me that she had spoken to her mother over Christmas break and that they were planning on taking a trip to California to find her paternal grandmother. I wished her well. But, I was still mad at her for being friends with Vicki. I didn’t understand why Mai could not see that Vicki was evil and that all last semester she teased me relentlessly. If Mai was a true friend she would have had my back and sided with me, not Vicki. When I tried to explain my feelings to Mai, she just shrugged her shoulders and said that I needed to see past Vickie’s hard shell and give her a chance. “But, she didn’t give me a chance,” I whined. Mai didn’t say anything to that, she just walked away and said that she really was going to miss our friendship.
What I needed was a comrade, someone who I could shake things up with around here, someone with a sense of adventure. Fran was out. She just keeps to herself. And when I found out that she had joined the ministry club, I knew our friendship was over before it even began. We did sneak in to see Risky Business, over at the North-Town together during Christmas break. And when we were walking home, she said she had to go to confession for the next three days because of all the dirty scenes. “Oh give me a break,” I told her. What was the big deal? It’s not as if we have even a chance to do any of the sex stuff that was in the movie. If she hadn’t noticed, we were not the most wanted by the boys. Plus, what boys? There were no boys around.
No, I needed to find someone who wasn’t afraid of taking risks and stirring up the pot a little. But, where was I going find that special Susie Scholastica amongst the zombies that lined the hallways of SSA.
After school, instead of going straight home, I took the bus over to Sally’s.
**
I swear you could hear the screams all the way down Devon Ave that came out of my mother’s mouth when she saw me. It was no big deal. I just had Sally cut all my hair off. Sally didn’t even try to persuade me out of it. She said change is good and I should go for it. By my mother’s reaction, she did not feel the same. My timing could have been better when introducing my new hair cut to my mother. I could have telephoned her to warn her but instead I just knocked on the bathroom door and said, “Hey Ma, I got a surprise for you, can I come in?”
Thinking my mother was subdued from her warm bath and mid-afternoon joint, I figured she wouldn’t really care that I no longer had hair, but I was wrong. Really wrong. She had the shower curtain pulled and I could smell the joint, a harlequin romance novel was lying next to the tub and she sounded as if she was half asleep.
“Hey Ma.”
She poked her head out from behind the shower curtain, and considering she had just smoked a joint her reaction time was pretty good.
“Oh my god! What have you done to your hair?” She cried grabbing at me. I swear I thought she was going to drag me in the bath water with her. She was flailing all over the place trying to get her bearings. She jumped up tried to grab for me again but I ran out of there before she could. Bewildered at first by her reaction, I caught a glance of my self in the hallway mirror. I did look different. I especially liked the way the bob framed my fat face and how the tail just hung down my back. But before I could really contemplate my transformation, I made a beeline to the back door and ran as fast as I could to my Nanna’s. I could hear my mother’s yells all the way down the alleyway. I didn’t turn back, hoping to god that she wasn’t on the back porch naked.
Nanna liked my new look. She said it framed my face and gave me a more mature look. She said it reminded her of the haircuts of the twenties except for the tail.
“I think Sally forgot a little bit,” she said reaching for the kitchen scissors.
‘No Nanna, it’s supposed to be there”. I said
“Funniest thing I ever saw, but if you like it.”
I did like it. I liked the way the shaved part felt on the back of head. I finally felt different.
“Mother had a fit.” I said
“I suppose she did.”
Papa had left the day before. Thank God! I wanted Nanna to throw the couch away because every time I sat there I could smell his cheap cologne and stale body odor on it. I told this to Nanna and all she said was to sit somewhere else. Sometimes, I wonder if she really did love the man.
“Your Aunt is closing the restaurant.”
“What? No way.”
“When?”
“Before the month is over.”
“Shit,” I said under my breath. I picked the wrong time to get a hair cut. No wonder my mother was home.
“What she is going to do?” I asked.
“She says she wants to find herself, maybe go back to school.”
“Isn’t it a little too late?” I asked, “I mean, she’s like forty. Shouldn’t she know who she is by now? Plus, where is she going to get the money?”
Papa wasn’t going to give her any more money. He already had invested a bundle in the restaurant. Nanna wasn’t listening. She was looking out the kitchen window.
“What is she going to do with all the pots and pans?”
“Did you get new glasses?” Nanna said, looking away from the window and ignoring my question. I was leaning up against the kitchen door and the mid-afternoon sun was hitting my face, making me squint.
“Finally someone noticed,” I yelled.
“Well, aren’t you changing? New glasses and new hair. What else, you got a tattoo somewhere under your shirt?”
“Oh please, Nanna,” I said in my most dramatic stage voice throwing back my head and covering my eyes with the back of my hand.