Irises (13 page)

“I'll wait for you here,” Mary told Kate.

“You need to get some things as well,” Kate said.

“I will,” Mary responded. She didn't think she needed any new clothes, but she didn't want to disappoint Kate. “I'm going to wait until we get to the big stores.”

Kate opened up her purse, took out two fifty-dollar bills, and offered them to Mary. “The big stores are at each end of the mall. Want to meet here in an hour?”

“Kate, this is way too much money,” Mary said, staring at the bills in her hand.

Kate grabbed Mary's hand and closed her fingers around the money. “Don't be silly. Look at you. You've had that dress for two years now and it's so worn out, you can almost see through it. You can buy old-fashioned-looking things if you want, but at least they'll be new. Trust me, one hundred dollars is not going to get you much.”

“Okay. I'll meet you here in an hour,” Mary said. Kate smiled and started to walk to the store. “Kate,” Mary called after her.

She stopped and came back to Mary.

“I'm happy for you about Stanford, I really am.”

“Thank you,” Kate said. “Now don't be so serious all the time, and go spend some money.”

Mary walked around the noisy halls of the mall in a daze. I
t wasn't just
the noise and the visual images that flashed before her. Her head was filled with memories of her childhood, of Kate, and imagining life without her, all intermingled. She came upon the food court, found an empty table, and sa
t down
.

Across from where she was sitting, she saw a store that specialized in arts and crafts. She remembered the day Mama took her and Kate into a similar store. First they got a chemistry set for Kate, then they bought a palette of watercolor paints and a pad of thick paper, not the flimsy kind that Mary had been using up to then. The palette had twelve colors, two rows of six, and the tint of the colors was high quality. Mary remembered how Mama looked at all the brushes. She picked up one after another and ran her finger across the bristles. “This one feels so nice,” she said. “Why is it so much more expensive than the others?”

“That one is made from ox hair, Mama.”

She was shocked. “Ox hair? Ox, like a
hueye
?”

Mary grabbed the brush from Mama's hand and tried to tickle her arm with it, but Mama brushed it away, a look of disgust in her face. “I hope they gave the ox a bath before they cut the hair of the poor thing.”

Mary put the brush back and picked up another one. “Look at this one, Mama.”

“Oooo. That's so soft.”

“This one is even more expensive than the ox hair.”

“Don't tell me it's made from some poor old lady's hair, because I'll be very upset.”

“No, silly, this is a sable brush. They're the best kind of brushes you can have.”

“A sable? I thought those animals were extinct,” Ma
ma said
.

A little girl at the table next to Mary dropped her ice-cream cone on the floor and began to cry. Mary snapped back to the present. At that moment she felt her mother next to her, her warmth and intelligence vibrant as always. She smiled at Mama's confusion about saber-toothed tigers. Mama was so proud of Kate and her. Mama loved Kate's intelligence and she loved Mary's talent for painting.

Mary walked into Sears and bought a blouse and a pair of jeans, which she tried on to make sure they were loose and comfortable. Everything she bought was on sale, so she spent forty-five dollars all told. The bag that she carried out of Sears looked big and bulky. Kate would be happy with her. Then she went into the arts and crafts store and looked at the tubes of oil paint. She picked up the yellow and thought of the portrait of Kate she had painted once, the rich yellow background she had given it. She placed the tube of paint back on the shelf and walked back to sit by the fountain.

Fifteen minutes later, Kate and Bonnie appeared, their arms full of packages. Mary's bag looked very small in comparison. “Is that all you bought?” Kate asked.

“There's a lot in there. It's just folded really well.” Mary smiled, knowing that Kate would see through her.

“Oh, you're impossible,” Kate said. “Come on, you're coming with us.”

“You guys go,” Bonnie said. “I'm going back in there to buy that cute pink blouse we saw.” She pointed at the store with the mannequins in black.

“I'm all set, really,” Mary objected.

“You should get her some makeup too,” Bonnie suggested.

“She doesn't need makeup,” Kate said reproachfully.

“Something subtle,” Bonnie said as she turned to go into the store. “The kind a guy never even knows is there.”

“I don't want any makeup,” Mary said.

“Don't listen to her,” Kate told Mary. “Let's start with shoes. You definitely need shoes.”

“I can get those for myself,” Mary protested.

“We have to get you new dress shoes,” Kate said. “The ones you have are old-maidish. You're sixteen!”

“I only wear those to church. No one there cares,” Mary protested.

“How much of the money did you spend?” Kate asked.

“About fifty dollars.”

“We'll buy dress shoes with what's left over. It will be fun.”

“Kate, we should save the money. We're going to need it, don't you think?” Mary tried not to sound worried.

Kate shook her head. She seemed tired of reminders that they
should be responsible. Mary suddenly understood that Kate needed to be, at least for a short while, as carefree as that day when they walked out of the arts and crafts store holding Mama's hands, she with her paints and brushes and Kate with her chemistry set, all three of them connected by a single happiness.

 

K
ate woke up to the sound of Mary getting ready for church. Kate had decided to go this Sunday mornin
g for
Mary's sake. It was the first time they would be back i
n church
since Father died, and it was not fair to let Mary bear the brunt of people's questions and curiosity about the
ir future
. Besides, it would be nice to see Reverend Soto again.

There was no pressure from Aunt Julia to attend church. One of her long-standing grievances against Father was that,
according to her, Father had forced her sister to become a Prot
estant. As far as she was concerned,
no
church was a thousand times better than a
Protestant
church. But she'd begrudgingly agreed to watch Mother so Kate and Mary could go.

Usually, Simon came over half an hour before services and the three of them walked the two blocks together. In the year and a half that he had been dating Kate, Simon had never missed a Sunday. It was one of the reasons Father trusted him so much. But today, Mary and Kate waited outside the house for ten minutes, and when Simon didn't show up, Kate told Mary that they should go ahead by themselves. Kate thought it was Simon's way of reminding her yet again that their relationship had changed since the night he had “proposed.”

The sign in front of the church announced that Reverend Soto was now conducting the Sunday services. Kate felt surprised that she was not upset that Father's name had been removed from the sign so quickly.

She was wearing a light green sleeveless dress she'd bought at the mall the day before. It was nothing she would have worn if Father were alive, but when she put it on that morning, she felt as if she could finally breathe a full measure of air. She didn't think the dress was much different from what other women at the church wore, but she could still feel their eyes following her as she and Mary walked to their usual pew, the third row on the right-hand side. Mary took out her pad of paper and a pencil as soon as they sat down. Kate folded her arms and hugged herself. She cast a sideways glance at Mary, who had already begun her doodling.

“Why do you do that?” Kate whispered.

“What?” Mary continued drawing without lifting her eyes.

“You start drawing as soon as you come in.”

“It helps me,” Mary said.

“Helps you what?”

“It just helps me.”

Kate considered Mary's answer and then looked away. It was one of those Mary-like statements that she had learned to accept. “But can you actually doodle and listen to what the preacher says? Did you ever listen to Father's sermons?”

Mary's answer came quickly, as if she had expected the question for a long time and was glad it had finally been asked. “Drawing helps me listen,” she said quietly. “Sometimes I even draw what I hear.”

Kate wanted to ask what she meant by that, but at that moment, Simon came down the middle aisle and sat next to her. He squeezed her hand. “Hello,” he said. “I'm sorry I'm late. I had car trouble.”

“Oh no!” Kate exclaimed a notch louder than she intended. Father had always urged people to use the time before the service to quiet their minds in silence. “What is it? Do you know?” she said in a softer tone. She couldn't help noticing Simon was wearing the same shiny black suit and purple tie he had worn to Father's funeral.

“I don't know,” Simon said, shrugging his shoulders. “It's probably the battery. It started when I jumped it. I haven't done too well in the luck department lately.” He looked at Kate meaningfully and she understood that he was still sore.

Wait until he hears about Stanford
,
she said to herself.

Mrs. Alvarado began to play a lively piece on the organ with blaring sounds meant to resemble trumpets. That was the cue that the minister was approximately five minutes away from entering. Only the very daring would continue to speak after Mrs. Alvarado sounded the general warning. Kate glanced back quickly and saw that the church was nearly full, fuller than it had ever been for Father, it seemed.

She had always enjoyed watching Mrs. Alvarado play the organ. Now the music stopped momentarily and Kate watched with affection as Mrs. Alvarado went through her ritual. First
she pulled each finger of her hand until it cracked. Then she
opened her black purse and fished out a wadded tissue with which she wiped the moist space between her upper lip and her nose. Finally, she straightened her back and placed her hands over the organ keys in a ready-to-strike position.

Mrs. Alvarado began to play a somber piece, and the members of the choir walked down the aisle two by two in their maroon robes. The size of the choir varied from Sunday to Sunday. Today the choir had fifteen members, a high number, with thirteen women and two men.

When all of the choir had found their places behind the organ, the back door opened and Reverend Soto entered the church. It seemed to Kate that he walked as if he owned the place. He swooped to the front of the altar with his white cassock billowing like a sail, made the smallest of bows before the golden cross, and then strode up the steps and sat down in back of the lectern.

They all stood up to sing the first hymn. Simon held the hymnal for Kate, but Kate only mouthed the words. She was watching Reverend Soto. The only times she had talked with him were when he came to the house after Father died, when he prayed
for Mama, and again after the funeral services. Now she was able to take a longer look at him. He was strong-looking and walked with self-assurance. There was a maturity about him, an aura of power and wisdom that she liked.

Suddenly, as if he sensed he was being examined from afar, he lifted his eyes from the page and caught her looking at him. He smiled, and she looked down immediately, embarrassed.

The service moved forward to the sermon. Reverend Soto stepped up to the lectern and began.

“Jesus said, ‘If you continue in my word, you are truly my disciples, and you will know the truth, and the truth will make you free.'
” Reverend Soto paused and scanned the congregation. There was silence. “Now, what we have to ask ourselves is what Jesus meant by truth and why it will set us free. I'll tell you what Jesus meant by truth. If you ‘continue in my word,' Jesus said, ‘you will know the truth.' To continue in His word is to obey His word. And what is Jesus's word? It is love. Truth, then, is a response to His call of love.”