Rose (Shooting Stars 3)

"When did I ever have the money or the chance to be in style, Rose? Why. I could see the difference the moment we walked out of that salon. Men on the street were pausing to look my way. Even men in automobiles turned toward us. It's been a long time since I turned a man's eyes to me like that. I've been living in a cocoon your father wove around me all these years. Who had time or the inclination to be beautiful before this, or even care?

"This," she said, pausing and holding one of her new dresses against her bosom as she gazed about the room. "is like a miracle. To get a second chance at life at my age."

"You're not that old. Mommy."

"You're as old as you feel," she countered. and when I was living back in that... that life. I felt old. Suddenly, it's as if I have sipped from the fountain of youth."

She closed her eyes and then she opened them on me.

"You'll see. You'll begin to enjoy all this. too. Wait until you attend that school tomorrow and make friends with boys and girls from well-established families. You won't complain about the gossip and the jealousies."

"That's ridiculous. Mommy," I said, scrunching my face in amazement. 'There's probably twice as much."

"Nonsense. When you have all this, you don't feel threatened and you don't have to tear someone else down to make yourself feel good. Why, they'll all appreciate you more, Rose. You'll see."

She continued putting her new things away. She seemed like some stranger to me, saying things, having ideas I had never heard from her lips before. I didn't know whether to be more frightened or angry.

"What's this dinner you're going to this weekend?-

"A dinner at one of the fanciest hotels in Atlanta where there's an orchestra playing while you eat. See why I needed better clothing?"

"Barry's coming to take me out to dinner Saturday," I said. She stopped putting away her clothes and turned to me.

"Really, dear, don't you think you should shed the past? You'll meet far nicer and finer boys tomorrow, and I'm sure before the week's out, you'll be asked on a date. You don't want to have to refuse someone from here because you've failed to cut the ties to that other place, now do you?"

Tears came to my eyes, tears of definite anger and disappointment. I took a deep breath and stood.

"Yes. I do," I said. "I don't measure people by their bank accounts, and when I meet someone as nice as Barry I don't turn him away in hopes that I'll meet someone who lives in a mansion. Mammy."

"You'll learn," she said, shaking her head and darkening her eves with pity. "I was hoping our lives, my mistakes would have been enough to drive it home by now, but hopefully, you'll learn."

"That's a lesson I'd rather skip. Mammy. You used to say that real love is true wealth."

"That's something poor people tell themselves to make themselves feel better. Rose. Love." she said, shaking her head. "It's a soap bubble, full of rainbow colors, but as soon as you touch it, it pops and you have nothing but some illusion to remember.

"I'd rather remember all this," she said, nodding at the walls as if they were made of gold. "You'll see."

She thought a moment and then she laughed.

"Did I show you the necklace and earrings? They're made of that material that resembles diamonds. You can't tell the difference. It's called Diamond Air, Cubic Zirconia."

"Really, Mammy," I said. "Someone who has the wealth and background you're raving about would surely be smart enough to know the difference," I said.

She considered what I said and then shrugged.

"Well then, he'll decide to buy me the real thing, won't he?"

She laughed and turned back to her closet. I sat there a moment staring at her and then got up and left. She didn't even know I had.

I wasn't comfortable being driven to school by a chauffeur. but Charlotte insisted and Mommy was like her cheering section, urging me to agree to each and every suggestion concerning me that Charlotte made. At breakfast, she even had the audacity to suggest I cut my hair more like theirs. too.

"Then we'll all look alike." I said. "What of it?" Charlotte asked, her eyes blinking with innocence.

"One size doesn't fit all when it comes to things like that. I'm me. you're you, Mommy's..."

"Mommy," Charlotte said. She looked at her and Mommy turned away. There was a time, only hours ago, it seemed, when that would have brought pride to her eyes, not shame and embarrassment. "Can't you call her Monica?"

"What? She's my mother. Why do I have to call her Monica?" I asked.