Diplomacy

I splashed the cool tap water on my face--trying to dilute the red blotches--and squeezed my eyes shut. The heat emitting from the walls was not my forte. I waited, eyes still shut, for the creamy pale face I knew to reappear. I had not inherited the dark shades of my mother's Russian background, only their olive tint. The water didn't help, I felt beads of sweat dew on my forehead. There was no escaping the humidity of the Georgian climate.

Mom moved back to her roots last month and I followed, It's summer and the heat is brutal. She did ask me to follow nor did I want to come. But she needed me. Much more then I needed her. I'm the only thing she has really, the only constant. All of her rubbish boyfriends stay for a week then leave, I gave up on remembering there names when I was eight, there all "Chip" now. I'm the thing she created to give her unconditional love --so she thinks-- and sympathy. Mom lives and breathes because of sympathy. Dad left when he could, I don't blame him really if I allowed myself to leave I might, too. The judge decreed shared custody, so I see my father every few days- He really is my favorite.

My parents are old for there daughter, both in there fifties. Dad strived in the seventies and loves breaking out his old records, I inherited my love for music from him I think, but also my tone deafness. I look like Mom; long wavy hair, but her color is prettier then my icky mud brown. I sound like her too-- loud... and talkative mixed with my father's shyness. Mom's a talker, Dad's a thinker. They didn't mix well.

Mom never really told me why she came back but the rent was up on her loft and the new "Chip" was found with mom's co-worker. Dad dropped me off at mom's that Saturday morning, the moving trucks in front of Mom's building should have given it away. But I was debating with myself a story I'd heard on NPR on the way over, "Textbooks vs. Teachers". I personally leaned toward teachers because if the teacher's good enough why would they need a text book? I gimped my way to the elevator --my balance has always been off-- knapsacks on either shoulder and jammed the forth floor button on the elevator with my free elbow. When I reached our door it was already open and our furniture sprawled randomly across the hall. I caught a glimpse of the evicted sign taped to the door as I fell to my knees in our living room. Mom didn't take notice of me as I listened intently as she argue with a young man twice her size.

"Um, excuse me but those vases are extremely expenses you have to wrap them just so," Mom always tried to sound rich, I was with her when she bought them at Goodwill. She demonstrated slowly, as if the man were retarded, the proper wrapping styles she preferred.

"Ma'am that's how I did it," he held up a newspaper ball in his hands that I assumed was the vase, It looked fine to me.

"Ugh!" She groaned, "Do I have to do everything?" She rhetorically asked the brawny man, he didn't get it.

"Uhh..." He tried to answer her question.

She ignored him and went on. "I'm a single parent with a teenage daughter," Her eyes flickered to me. I shut my eyes tight and pretended I was invisible. "I work full time and I suffer from a weak immune system" She unleashed her full Russian-southern accent, I rolled my shut eyes. I had learned to ignore her sympathy chants. "I get no support from anyone and you can't even wrap a vase?" The brawny mover had cringed away from the plump feisty woman. Mom was exsagerating, she has no patience for anything and her job isn't that hard.

Mom's a teacher, though I don't know why-- she doesn't really like kids, she's always been much happier around adults. She thinks kids are stupid, she thinks I'm stupid, too... though she won't admit. "It's not that you're dumb, Mabel... It's just... I think you can do better," Is what she told me when I came home with my first "D", I haven't believed her since. I'm fifteen now.

When Mom approved the vases the movers hauled the rest of our junk into there truck and headed to where ever we were moving. All they left was our red Victorian couch, two sleeping bags, and a trunk full of clothes for the both of us. I lay on the couch reading my copy of "Donte's Inferno". I liked much more to own a book then rent it. As Donte' was describing the third level of hell Mom decided it time to explain to me what the heck was going on.

"Mabel, sweet pea, I'm sorry I haven't been able to explain whats going on," Her voice rang in my ears. I didn't look up from Donte'

'Ha! Like I haven't figured it out yet,' I thought to my self.

'Oh, Shut up Mabel.' I smiled at my friend, talking from inside me. My "inner" Mabel talked to me, she is my friend... my only one at that. The voice was my own, but truer then I would let my conscious voice become.

"It's okay Mom." I said politely to my book, "I know you've been stressed," I added that for her benefit. She smiled as I sympathized. "So obviously were moving?" I raised my eyebrows.

"Well... yes." The skepticism in her voice made me look up from the Inferno, "Mabel I'm moving back home," I clenched my teeth. I knew what home meant. The hot sultry air of Adairsville, Georgia. "On Friday actually," She tried to keep her voice light aware of my obvious tension. "Things here in Alaska haven't been going good at all and there's a job at the Middle school there available and I took it."

'Maybe if you weren't so impatient you'd make more money and you could afford this dump,' I contemplated. I imagined what Mom would say if I said this. I smiled at her imaginary reaction.

'How can you say that?' Inside Mabel asked, appalled. 'Your mother has worked very hard. Though I have to admit she is an impatient bitch.' Even Inside Mabel thought she was annoying.

"Mom that great!" My fake smile was believable. I was an excellent liar, I had to be. It's a quality every good diplomat must have. Manipulating the truth around so it's sounds good to the person listening. Saving people from the facts when necessary.

Mom and Dad divorced when I was so little I don't remember them being together. Just one faded memory of Mom holding my hand in back of our old cottage, that was when I still liked Mommy. But it's also a photograph in my locket, so I may not really remember it at all. I was so young and naive though, when the separation finally occurred I barely noticed. To me we were still one big happy family; Mommy, Daddy, and Mabel.

Diplomacy became essential when the full divorce was over. Mom and Dad wouldn't-- and still don't-- talk to each other. So I would send the messages between them, always editing.

"Good." She said flatly. She didn't care if I was happy or not. "I was wondering if..."

I cut her off and tried to explain why I should stay. It was harder to smile this time so I naturally smirked. "Mom, I know you probably want me to come but, you know how me and warm weather are... besides I'll probably..."

"Uh! Can't I just finish a sentence without being interrupted!?" Her voice was cold as ice.

'Sheesh, Ms. Bipolar.' Inside Mabel said.

"Of course Mother," My tone was laced with sarcasm. Mom didn't notice.

"As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted," She continued. "I know you don't like Georgia so you can stay here, if you want." I was only half surprised. Of course I was expecting her to drag me along without my dad's permission. But this was a test, she was manipulating me. I hated to give into her silent plee. If I said I'll stay then I'd blow my cover. If I said I'll go then I'd have to endure the hideous weather.

'You know you have go. She needs you.' Inside Mabel persuaded. I bit my lip, trying not to blurt out something stupid, I much to often said what I thinking. My scabby lip started to bleed. My lips were stained red from blood and me trying to hold in my thoughts. I look up to see Mom's sad face. She tried to hide her expression of how much letting me go hurt, but I was good at reading people.

"No, that's okay maybe warm weather would be good for me," I knew I would regret the words as soon as I said them.

"Really?" Mom's face brightened up. I smiled blankly and nodded my head. "Good, because the house I bought is really big and I'd get lonely and those kids...," Mom babbled on about how dumb her new students were going to be and such. I didn't pay attention.

'Damn it, why do I have to be such a push over?' I asked Inside Mabel

'Mabel, you know you did the right thing,' Inside Mabel's voice was calm and sure.

"Herumph," I made the sound from the back of my throat. Inside Mabel didn't budge.


When I went to collect my things from Dad's I felt his wary eyes on my back as I packed my back. I couldn't help but look at his blue eyes. I always stared when I wanted to look away. I knew dad was upset about my decision. Stupid inside voice. But he could take care of himself, he always could.

Mom pulled up in her Ford Escape and we traveled into the unknown.