Page 35 of Rock and a Hard Place

Even though Libby had cleaned up a few days ago, Aunt Marge’s trash already littered the tables and counters. Her counselor’s gaze took in everything.

“Get to the point.” Aunt Marge pulled Miss Orman’s attention back to her.

Miss Orman stood straighter and assumed an authoritative air. “Homecoming is next week, and Libby needs to attend.”

“You came all the way out here and interrupted my work so that kid can go to a dance?”

“Yes, it’s part of her high school experience. Every student should enjoy this rite of passage.”

“I never went to a school dance, and it didn’t hurt me a bit.”

Libby doubted anyone ever invited her.

“Hey, I took the kid in. I think that’s more than enough,” Aunt Marge said.

“But Libby has been through a traumatic time. She’s lost her family. She needs as many normal teenage experiences as possible. She doesn’t have a job. She doesn’t have a driver’s license. All these things are important to a young person’s development.”

Libby slunk away toward the stairs and hopefully out of Aunt Marge’s sight. Her aunt did not like to be told what to do.

“Driving costs money, and she’s already a financial drain. Now you want me to give her money to buy a fancy dress?” Aunt Marge crossed her arms, clearly ready to shut Miss Orman down.

Instead of being intimidated, Miss Orman stepped into the kitchen, where a couple flies flitted around old fast-food containers. She opened the bare refrigerator, revealing dried-up food on plates alongside a few bottles of forgotten condiments.

“Don’t worry about a dress. I’ll take care of it.” She shut the fridge door.

“You can’t come in here and tell me what to do. I’mher legal guardian. I know how kids her age act. Once you let them loose, there’s no stopping them. She’ll end up knocked up, just like her mother.”

Libby’s jaw dropped. She wanted to scream “liar!” Her parents had been married a year and a half before Libby was born.

“I’ll be chaperoning the dance, so she’ll be with me the entire time. I’ll pick her up that afternoon and return her home after the dance. You don’t need to do a thing.”

The two women stood their ground, Aunt Marge in her dirty work clothes and Miss Orman in her designer blouse and slacks. Both refused to look away.

“When was the last time the social worker completed a home visit?” Miss Orman’s eyes lit in challenge.

Libby had never seen Miss Orman so tough. She liked having someone on her side like this. She wanted to cheer as Aunt Marge’s blood practically boiled.

“You damn school people think you can intrude whenever you want, and all in the name of child welfare.” She wavered. “Fine, take her, but I’m not giving her a dime.”

A smirk appeared on Miss Orman’s unblemished face. She moved to open the front door. “Thank you. Libby will be in good hands.” She stepped outside.

Aunt Marge followed. “One more thing. Don’t ever step on my property again.” She slammed the aging door in Miss Orman’s face.

Libby shrank against the stair railing.

“You think you’re so smart, sending in the big guns so you can go to your little dance. Well, you better watch your step, missy. You’re getting mighty close to the flame.” Aunt Marge pierced Libby with a venomous stare. “Get out of my sight.”

12

“Hair up or down?”

A week later on the night of the homecoming dance, Libby perched on a kitchen stool in the small bathroom of Miss Orman’s apartment. Hair and makeup paraphernalia cluttered the tiny counter.

“Both,” she answered. “I want the front and sides up and then the back to fall in a bunch of curls. Can we do that?”

“We can do anything.” Miss Orman studied Libby’s long hair, determining how best to begin.

Sitting together in front of the giant mirror reminded Libby of the times she watched her mother get ready for special parties with her dad. She and Sarah would sit on the counter and laundry hamper playing with her mom’s cosmetics. They laughed and teased each other as Momartfully applied makeup, occasionally brushing blush on their faces or spritzing them with perfume. Libby smiled at the memory.

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