6
Mansfield
AUGUSTA RACES AHEAD OF SHANNON. TAKING TWO STAIRS at a time. They’re good solid family stairs with an oak handrail that doesn’t blister her palm. Stairs a kid could run down on Christmas morning to see what presents are under the tree. She makes it to the top and dashes into the first bedroom. It’s pink. Pink walls. Pink carpet. White comforter with little pink hearts. Tea set arranged on a tray on top of a pretty white storage trunk. China dolls on a shelf. Teddy bear on the bed. Lace curtains in the window. It’s perfect. Shannon is hot on her heels. Augusta spins around and flops back on the bed, then bounces to her feet like a jack-in-the-box.
I call dibs, Mama.
Shannon pretend pouts. Then she folds her arms and scans the room. Her entire face begins to smile starting with the wrinkles fanning out around her eyes and spreading to the creases around her lips.
This room is so perfectly you, Honey Pie. Except for that silly trunk. Your blue treasure chest is much more special than that old thing.
So this room’s mine?
Shannon’s face gets serious and she rubs her chin as if contemplating the question deeply, then she winks and takes off down the hall. Gus chases her mother with a high-pitched squeal of delight. She races into the next bedroom. Shannon is already calling dibs. Gus stops at the entrance. Mouth open wide. It’s an enormous yellow room with a king-size bed at its center. The bed is adorned with a collection of polka-dot and striped pillows. Pretty white sheers frame a set of french doors that stand open to a small balcony overlooking the back garden. Augusta folds her arms and stomps.
No fair.
Shannon smiles. She dances over to her daughter and wraps her arms around Gus. She lifts her up and they spin.
We can share, Sugar Bunch. Trade rooms every other night. Deal?
Augusta tries not to smile as Shannon puts her down. Gus puts her index finger to her chin as if struggling to make a big decision. Then she shakes her head.
No deal. You can have this one, Mama. I want the pink room.
Shannon flops on the bed. The springs groan. Gus flops beside her. They each grab a polka-dot pillow and begin play fighting, messing up the perfectly arranged bedding.
The real estate agent is standing in the doorway. Hands on hips. Brow furrowed. Shannon jumps off the bed, grabs Augusta’s hand, and they race past the woman. Shannon tosses her a bone.
I think we’ll put in an offer tonight.
They dash upstairs to the third-floor loft. The agent follows them like a mall security guard. She stays mute. Pretty sure they’re messing with her but not willing to blow a potential sale. Shannon rambles on.
Open concept, hardwood floors. Perfect for my office. Love it. Kitchen needs some work but who needs to cook when there’s takeout pizza.
Shannon’s beyond excited. Gus loves it when she gets like this. It’s been the best day ever. They’ve found their dream house this time.
We’ll speak to our financial adviser and get back to you.
Shannon takes the agent’s card. Gus loves that her mother says we.
The big three-story brick house on Mansfield Drive is amazing. They skip the rest of their Sunday open house excursion and head straight to the nearest Mac’s Milk to buy a scratch-and-win lottery ticket. All their dreams will come true on Mansfield. Augusta will have a pretty pink bedroom. They’ll put their wet boots side by side on their new welcome mat in the front foyer and they’ll paint the kitchen walls robin’s-egg blue. They’ll order pizza every night and they’ll be happier than they’ve ever been in their whole lives.
They scratch and don’t win the jackpot. Not even a free ticket. Shannon’s eyes get glassy as she stares at the worthless ticket. She flips it once, her face flushing as if genuinely surprised. Caught off guard that they aren’t lucky enough to have the lottery gods shine down upon them.
Shannon rips up the ticket. Says it was stupid to think they belonged in a house like that. They have everything they need. Perfectly good house even if the roof leaks a little and there’s hardly any backyard. They’d be lost in that big house just the two of them. Shannon says they aren’t going to waste any more Sundays on open houses.
Then she goes into her office and stays there.
Gus spends the rest of Sunday riding her banana seat bike around the neighborhood. At night, she plays in her room inside the small tent in the corner where she keeps her stuffed animal collection. She sits in a circle with her bear Claudius, her frog Louis, her lion Praline, and her purple giraffe Girly. She reads aloud to them. Quietly. Holding a flashlight so she can see the words. The Paper Bag Princess is their favorite. When she can’t keep her eyes open any longer, she kisses the tops of their heads, then curls up and sleeps.
In the morning, Augusta makes herself banana pancakes for breakfast. She packs four syrup-soaked pancakes in a plastic container for her lunch, then goes off to school.
When Gus comes home the kitchen is clean. The front curtains are open. Shannon’s making cookies. Whistling to herself.
How was school today, Sugar Bunch?
This is their normal. It’s the way things are. Shannon is like every other mom. They all forget to tuck in their kids once in a while. It’s part of being a grown-up. Even when her best friend, Amy, tells her that her mom never forgets to pack her lunch, Augusta knows she’s lying.
It’s normal to eat chocolate chip cookies for dinner once in a while. It’s normal to feel horribly alone when the house is so quiet except for the rain pattering on the roof. It’s normal to have to check that all the doors are locked before putting yourself to bed.
Amy says no. Says it’s not normal.
Gus doesn’t believe her. She can’t be the only one who’s ever crept into her mother’s bedroom only to be told to get back to bed in a voice so sharp it stings her eyes and makes her heart ache. Amy’s heart must ache sometimes. Amy says it doesn’t.
Gus thinks she’s a heartless liar.
She envies her.
It would be easier to have no heart.
7
Haley-Anne
GUS WAKES FROM A STICKY SLEEP TO A BRIGHT AND SUNNY Saturday morning. She’s anything but sunny. In fact, a blue melancholy seems to have crept into her bed overnight. She rises and stumbles downstairs to escape it. And before her morning coffee can make its way into her bloodstream, the real estate agent pops by for a look-see. Haley-Anne crunches her nose at the smells radiating from the musty armpits of Rose’s house. High heels clicking across the hardwood like two tiny hammers tapping away at the soft tissue of Augusta’s fragile dream-soaked brain.
“The place definitely needs some serious spit and polish, top to bottom, inside and out. And then it’ll be all about the staging for MBV.”
Haley-Anne blinks. Gus stares at her like she’s speaking Swahili.
“Maximum buyer visualization? MBV. I came up with that. A potential buyer needs to be able to see themselves cooking dinner for the fam, planting petunias in the garden, entertaining the in-laws, even if her mother-in-law is a judgmental old B. It’s the life that we’re selling, not the house.”
Gus gets that.
“That crack in the ceiling.” Eye roll.
“That yellow toilet.” Nostril flare.
“That torn screen.” Big sigh.