logies, then turned on her aunt and reminded her that this was her place of business. I could tell Mom wanted to leave, but when the old woman retreated to the back room, she calmed down.
I talked to Deena about my tattoo. Then Mom handed me my bathing suit and I went into a side room to change. I could hear Deena trying to distract Mom by talking about a university friend who'd studied Mom's work at Emily Carr.
Mom's an architect who specializes in designing homes that fit into the natural landscape, and she's well known for it. Talking about her work was a good call, and by the time I came out, she was back to her usual self.
Deena had me stand on a chair so she could get a better look at my birthmark.
"It used to be darker," Mom said. "It's faded as she's gotten older, and she wants to keep it."
"In other words, make it as natural looking as possible," Deena said.
I nodded. "Just tattoo over what's there. I don't want to change it or make it look more like a paw print or anything."
"No reason to," Deena said, her fingers tracing the edges. "It already does. Remarkable."
"What is that?" came the old woman's voice, so low I barely heard her. I turned to see her in the doorway staring at me.
"It's a birthmark, Auntie. Looks like a cat's paw, doesn't it?"
The old woman muttered something I didn't catch. Deena tried to smile, but it was strained. "We don't speak Navajo, Auntie."
The old woman's gaze met mine and in it I saw fear and disgust. "I said, 'Yee naaldlooshii.' " She turned to my mother. "That's why the Dine didn't want her. She's a witch."
Mom didn't say a word, just set her jaw like she was locking it shut and handed me my clothing. I hesitated, but one look in her eyes told me not to argue. As I pulled on my clothes over my bathing suit, Deena apologized again and begged her aunt to leave. Neither my mom nor Deena's aunt paid any attention, Mom fuming, the old woman glowering and mumbling under her breath.
When I was dressed, Mom ushered me to the door. I took one last longing look at a display of tattoos, then followed her out.
FIVE
WE WALKED A FEW doors down before Mom turned to me, deflating. "I'm sorry, Maya. I know you were really looking forward to getting that tattoo." "It's okay." It wasn't okay. If I had to wait, Dad might change his mind. There was no way I could go back to that shop, though.
Mom looked around, distracted, her gaze finally settling on Bubble Tea Stars. "You were hungry, weren't you? Let's go get you something to eat and I'll call your dad."
I wasn't hungry anymore, but I followed her in. She phoned Dad, saying only that there'd been a problem and I'd need to get my tattoo another day.
"We'll go to Vancouver next weekend," she said when she hung up. "Make a special trip of it."
Exactly what Serena had suggested just before she died. Her last words. I blinked back a prickle of tears and turned to peer into the ice cream freezer.
"I'm really sorry, Maya. I shouldn't have lost my temper. She was obviously senile and I overreacted."
"Do you know what that word meant? The one she called me?"
She shook her head. "No idea. I don't even know if it's Navajo. She may have lived with them, but she's white. The language is nearly impossible for an outsider to learn."
"Calling me a witch, too." I shook my head. "At least give me a chance to earn it first."
Mom tried to smile and surveyed the menu blankly, like we hadn't been in here so often the counter girl had recognized us and said hello. Mom finally ordered an herbal tea with lemongrass. I got lychee bubble tea--cold milky tea with tapioca balls.
"You said you were hungry," Mom said. "Maybe a sandwich?" She pointed at the Vietnamese submarines. "You like those."
"I'm okay."
"Ice cream, then," she pleaded, like if I didn't eat, she'd know I'd been permanently scarred by the old woman's words. "They have Nanaimo bar. You love Nanaimo bar ice cream."
"Sure, I'll take a bowl."
When we sat down, she was quiet for a minute, then said, "What that old woman said, about you, the adoption ..."