Could somehow Maisie and her mother *both* be right in some way? Could Maisie have exaggerated? Could Maisie have misunderstood?

I sighed. Why do people have to be so complicated?

"Thank God I don't have detention today!" I told Maisie.

"Yeah, that's a big change for you, isn't it, you wicked thing?" she teased.

Girls in blue plaid skirts and white blouses flooded past us, anxious to get OUT OF THE BUILDING. Friday afternoon is exciting in and of itself, but for Maisie and me it was even more so: today begins the weekend of the switch.

"Hey, cool!" Maisie observed. "Your Mom staked out the primo parking spot!"

In fact, Mom was standing by her car directly in front of the building. I turned to Maisie and was astonished to see something like joy on her face. I'd never seen her so plainly, simply happy. Ever.

"She must have been waiting for us for, like, ten minutes!" Maisie gushed in admiration.

"Hi, girls!" Mom called out. "Ready for the big weekend?"

"Shotgun!" Maisie shouted, and jumped in the front seat, next to my mother.

I climbed in the back, smiling a little, but at the same time feeling a bit odd. I was glad to see Maisie happy for once, but it was weird to be sharing my mother with her.

After Mom settled herself behind the wheel, she turned to me and said, "Now we have to drop you at your house, Marcie." I pushed my face into a smile.

Mom started the car and Maisie started babbling. "This was a great idea, Marcie! I'm so glad you thought of it. This weekend is going to be the best..." I tuned her out and looked out the window.

I'd been looking forward to spending the weekend with Ida. I really had. At the same time I was nervous. I know that Ida's Mom's friend. I know that Mom has spent a lot of time with her, and trusts her. She has to trust her, or she wouldn't let me stay with her. At the same time...

Maisie had told me so many bad things about Ida. Not just bad things, but terrible things. Things I couldn't imagine a parent doing.

At the same time, I couldn't imagine Ida doing any of it. As far as I could tell, Ida cared about Maisie. She looked out for her. She tried to connect with her. It was Maisie who'd shut everything down between them.

At the same time, Maisie couldn't have made all that stuff up.

And so, I was afraid. Yes, now that I was going to spend three nights and two-plus days with Ida, I finally admitted to myself that I was afraid.

What if I got to see the bad side of Ida? The side that only Maisie knows? Could she hurt me? Would she hurt me? I didn't think so, but what did I know?

At the very worst, I could get out of there and run home. So I did have a way out.

Could somehow Maisie and her mother *both* be right in some way? Could Maisie have exaggerated? Could Maisie have misunderstood?

Or, could Maisie and her mother *both* be wrong? For a moment, I felt as if a light had gone on, but then I couldn't work out what it would mean, so I dropped it.

I sighed. Why do people have to be so complicated?

AND THEN, as I watched my mother happily listen to Maisie's babble, I realized something: I'd been so busy thinking about how things would go between Ida and me, that I hadn't spared a thought for Maisie and my Mom.

What were they going to do? "Work around the house." Doing what? It was all done! What were they going to do all weekend? Were they going to talk about me?

I wanted to ask... something, but the two of them chatted away sixteen to the dozen, and there was no way I could get a word in. I tried, but they were jumping on the ends of each others' sentences, and laughing away... My attempts to talk just got lost...

... as if they'd forgotten I was even there. In fact, Mom almost missed Maisie's street, and had to make a big awkward turn to get back to it.

"Lucky no one was around to see that!" Mom laughed, and Maisie let out a big, open-mouthed haw haw haw and clapped her hands like a little girl.

The two of them were beginning to seriously bug me.

They dropped me off without ceremony, and drove away almost before I shut the car door.

I watched them disappear around the corner. For a few moments I stood there, feeling vaguely like a orphan, trying to somehow feel sorry for myself, but the feeling wasn't very strong. I took a deep breath and turned toward the house.

Ida was there, waiting, smiling, at her door.

I waved and smiled back, and when I was a few feet away I grinned and said, "Hi, Mom!"

"Oh!" she cried. "It's been so long since anyone's called me that!" She wrapped me in a warm, enveloping, mom-ish hug. I put my arms around her waist and realized for the first time how soft she is. So feminine, so soft.

I made a mental note to ask her what scent she was wearing.

And I was quietly glad that Maisie wasn't around — it was so much easier to be with Ida without all of Maisie's negativity.

We went inside and Ida showed me to my room. I knew that Maisie would be sleeping in my room, but I was staying in their guest room. Ida had already unpacked my bags.

After she showed me where she'd put my things, I quickly changed into jeans and a sweater.

"I've got ideas for tomorrow and Sunday," she told me, "but I wanted to hear what you'd like to do tonight."

"Uh, I'd like to go food shopping first," I told her. "I want to cook dinner for you... If that's okay."

"Oh!" she said, surprised. "That would be different!"

First I checked that she had the right pots and pans. Surprisingly, she did. Next, I made a quick inventory of what little food she did have. Then the two of us put on our boots and walked to the store. The shopping didn't take long. I got jasmine rice, tofu, and small bottles of oil and soy sauce. I didn't want to spend a lot of time peeling and chopping, so I opted for a bag of frozen stir-fry vegetables. Ida silently watched me select all these things, as if I was doing something that was utterly foreign to her. I wondered whether she had ever cooked in her life.

It didn't take long to whip up the meal, and it came out pretty well. Ida was impressed. "You should come over more often," she said. "Not a lot of cooking goes on in this house. I never learned, and Maisie couldn't care less."

After dinner I ran through their collection of DVDs. One of the titles rang a bell, and the picture on the cover made me sure: John Tucker Must Die was a movie I'd meant to see, but Jerry had always refused to watch it with me.

"Oh, yeah," Ida said drily. "*I* got that one — and some others — in hopes that Maisie would want to see them with me, but..."

"So let's do it!" I interrupted.

We sat together on the couch and watched the movie. It was a lot of fun. You ought to see it. The two of us laughed our heads off! Although it's a "chick flick," there aren't any tears. Plus, it isn't corny at all.

At some point after the movie began, Ida moved closer to me and put her arm around my shoulders — which caused me an anxious moment. Why? Well, Ida is a beautiful, beautiful woman. Her proportions are perfect: she has nice curves, but is very trim at the same time. Her hair is a honey blonde, and her face is cute and open. Her breast rubbed softly against my upper arm as she snuggled up, and... well, okay: what I was afraid of was how much boy I had left in me. I didn't want to get, um, excited about being near her. I didn't want my secret revealed in such an embarrassing way.

As it turned out, I didn't need to worry. If there was any "boy" in me, it didn't show. Something else was happening, something else entirely. I could tell that Ida was longing for that mom experience that Maisie wouldn't let her have. Maisie didn't talk to her mother if she could help it, and when she did, she made sure it hurt Ida in some way. I'd never seen Ida even dare to reach her hand out toward Maisie, let alone touch or hug her.

So I relaxed and rested my head on Ida's shoulder. It was nice. My Mom wasn't so touchy-feely, and it was nice to be wrapped in all that comfort and safety. I could almost feel her womanliness passing into me as she held me.

When the movie was over, we shut the TV off and shifted so I was lying with my head in her lap. She gently ran her fingers through my hair, and asked me about school. She told me about her parents and how she'd grown up in the house... She told me which room was hers, what school she'd gone to, how the town had changed, and what was still the same.

As I listened to her voice and breathed her scent, I relaxed, and felt the tension drain from my body... I didn't realize until just then how tense I was: I'd been on edge ever since we arrived in New Jersey. This was the first time I could let go and do nothing.

Ida's voice drifted in and out, and what she said mixed with half-dreams in my head.

I looked up at her through my sleepy fog and said, "I want to be just like you."

She smiled and passed her hand over my forehead. "You need to get to your bed, little girl. Come on."

© 2007 Kaleigh Way