The next night at their mother’s was the night of the monthly viewing of The Rocky Horror Picture Show, and Willow, Asher and Rosie dressed for the occasion. They each wore different permutations of fishnet stockings, big pearl necklaces, thick eye shadow, bright red lipstick and fitted tank tops. And as the three of them stood in front of the mirror to examine their outfits, Rosie held up the framed photo of Tim Curry as Dr. Frank-N-Furter that usually hung in the hallway. She winked with one eye and then the other at each of her children.
“Stunning,” she said in all earnestness.
Asher had no idea what he was saying or doing when he slipped into his mother’s high heels, struck a pose and smiled, mimicking a line from the film. But Rosie couldn’t help hugging him so tightly. And then she joined Asher in his dance and guided him through the rest of the lyrics as they held hands and kicked their feet up.
When the “Time Warp” came on, Rosie, Asher and Willow took their places right in front of the TV and jumped to the left, stepped to the right and thrust their pelvises alongside the characters. They got up on the couches in their makeup while they did it. They laughed and sang until they were out of breath. And when the music was over, Rosie, Willow and Asher retreated to their separate rooms to put on their matching squiggly patterned pajamas with plans to reconvene in Rosie’s room.
But when Willow and Asher got back to their mother’s door, it was uncharacteristically closed. It was so strange to see their mother’s door like that. It was strange to see any barrier at all in their mother’s house. Their mother’s house was always so open. Open to air and life. It allowed music and laughter to move around freely. Before her heart could start beating any faster, and more nervously, Willow turned the doorknob. But it didn’t move with her hand. It stayed there locked in place, silver and cold.
“One second, noodles,” Rosie said but without enough breath from the other side of the door.
So Willow and Asher waited at their mother’s door with matching pajamas and bouncing legs. Ready to curl up next to their mother for bedtime.
And after only a moment, Rosie pulled the door open and smiled warmly at her children with a word search in hand.
“Should we play?” Rosie asked, extending a word search book out in front of her children’s already-vibrant eyes.
Willow and Asher nodded vigorously and in sync. They hopped into their mother’s unmade but cozy bed and prepared to tangle themselves up in Rosie. And as soon as Rosie wiggled herself between her two children and then underneath the covers, Willow pressed her ear into her mother’s shoulder and hooked her right thigh over her mother’s leg and locked her eyes on the grid of letters. And Asher nuzzled under his mother’s arm, tucked his knees into his belly and locked his eyes on the same grid of letters.
“Robot,” Rosie announced slowly, mumbling a bit. “Can you find me the word?”
Willow and Asher scanned the grid of letters on the page with intense focus. And then Asher yelled out and pointed down at the paper.
“Thewe!”
Asher and Willow waited for their mother to trace the outline of the word and announce the next word to be found, but Rosie was silent. Willow looked up at her mother to urge her to move the pen, but her eyes were nearly closed and her head had fallen unnaturally to the side.
“Mom,” Willow said firmly as she nudged her hip into her mother’s thigh.
But Rosie just lay there with her mouth a bit agape and her shoulders sunken.
“Shhhhh,” Rosie said, with lazy lips and cheeks. Her eyes were still closed as she sank even deeper into her pillow. And then Rosie’s wrist went weak. And the word search book fell slowly from her hands and onto her lap.
Willow had never seen her mother’s lips producing a shh. It was so strange for Willow to see her mother’s body draped so lifelessly across her pillow. She was used to her mother lighting up with vitality. Pulsing with energy. But even with Rosie so physically loose, there was something so heartbreakingly rigid about her in this state. The thought occurred to Willow that her mother had perhaps hardened against her world. That she had detached in some way. Even if it was just the littlest bit.
But Willow pushed the thought away as quickly as she could. And she hooked her knee right back over her mother’s thigh and wrapped her arm around her mother’s waist. And Asher followed his sister’s lead and curled right back up in the tiny space between Rosie’s arm and ribs.
Rosie, Asher and Willow all drifted into sleep with the lamp on and the book of word searches on Rosie’s lap right there in her bed. Without back tickles or head scratches.
* * *
The next morning, Rosie, Asher and Willow were all surprised to wake up simultaneously to Rex’s shouting.
“Rosie!”
“Rosie!”
Rex’s voice echoed aggressively throughout the house. It was so strange to hear Dad’s voice knocking around Mom’s walls.
“Rosie! You’ve got to be kidding me! It’s ten thirty. The school called again to ask where the kids are.”
Rosie exhaled fully. And then she rolled her eyes and rolled out of bed. But not before full-lipped kisses for each of her children.
“Stay here, noodles,” she whispered, and raised one eyebrow as she slipped out the door of her bedroom.
Willow and Asher made their way onto the staircase, where they watched and listened to their parents yell coldly at one another.
“Rex, relax,” Rosie said while rubbing her right eye with the heel of her hand. “The kids were up late. I wanted to let them sleep. It’s not a big deal.”
“It is a big deal. It’s a school day, Rosie. They need structure. They need discipline. This isn’t good for them.”
Rosie poured Froot Loops and milk into a bowl and scooped a spoonful into her mouth. A bit of white liquid dribbled down her chin.
“You can’t be so freakin’ cavalier with everything anymore! Wake up, Rosie! You are a goddamned mother!”
A few drops of spit flew from his mouth as Rex cut into Rosie and as he turned toward the staircase.
Willow and Asher scurried back into their mother’s room and took their place under her comforter and lay still.
“What were they up late doing, anyway?” Rex added as he stomped harshly up the stairs.
But Rosie didn’t have to answer his question.
Because he saw the answer as soon as he swung open the door. The sight of Willow and Asher in faded lipstick and smudged eye shadow told the whole story of the prior evening. She saw her father’s face as she made eye contact with him and could see all the disappointment in it.
Disappointment at how she looked there with her makeup on. Disappointment at how she had enjoyed her time in her boa. Her father’s eyebrows pressed together and his jaw tensed. And then his breathing became audible and his fingers gnarled as all the disappointment twisted into disgust. Disgust at how she was so happy at her mother’s. Disgust with the scene of last night’s makeup. Disgust with everything.
“Wash your faces. Get dressed. We’re going to school,” Rex directed. His voice was steady but his body was shaking.
Willow ushered Asher into the bathroom where they could clean their faces. She wiped Asher’s face and then her own until they were clear of any trace of their time with Mom. Willow sent Asher to his room to get dressed, then stared at her own face in the mirror. It looked so bare. So empty. She reapplied some red lipstick and felt replenished.
Willow returned to her room and tugged her purple leggings on, one leg at a time. She pulled her black T-shirt with the horseshoe over her head and thought about how her outfit and lipstick would only disappoint her father all over again this morning. But then she remembered that day in kindergarten when she walked downstairs for school and overheard the forcibly quiet fight that ensued when her mother walked through the door with bags upon bags filled with the purple leggings and black horseshoe T-shirts in all different sizes.
“It’s just a phase,” her father shouted through clenched teeth, ripping one of the shopping bags out of Rosie’s hand.
“No. It’s not,” Rosie said casually, and continued to walk by her husband.
“Even if it’s not a phase, this is not the kind of behavior I will encourage from my daughter,” Rex said sharply.
“This is exactly the kind of behavior I will encourage from my daughter,” Rosie retorted. This time with a rare fire in her eyes and grumble in her voice.
Willow just smiled from the top of the stairs. Hearing Mom say this made Willow want to wear that outfit every day forever. And right there at the top of the stairs, a few weeks into kindergarten, she decided to do just that and never changed her mind since.
Rex had opened his mouth, undoubtedly with a retaliation, but Rosie got to the moment of pause first.
“I won’t let you take this from her. I won’t let you strip Willow of any and all of the weird, beautiful things that make Willow, Willow. You hear me?”
And that was the end of the conversation.
Willow smiled at the memory playing in her mind’s eye as she returned to Asher’s room. She took him by the hand and walked him downstairs to say goodbye to her mother. Rosie was already waiting by the front door with her eyes crossed and tongue out. Before Willow and Asher were too far out the door, Rosie tossed brown-paper-bagged lunches at her children and winked as she watched her ex-husband continue to pull them down the driveway.
Rosie blew kiss after kiss to her children as Rex’s car pulled away.