The serious look on Helen’s face evaporates, replaced by laughter. It makes me laugh with her, a laughter that feels good. “Yeah, I’m sure your mother wouldn’t like that,” she says, rolling her eyes. “No way. No boyfriends—or girlfriends—not for saints.” She seems thoughtful. “How about this for a title for their television speciaclass="underline" Marlena Oliveira: The Ruining of a Former Saint.”
This makes me laugh even more. “Or: The Miracle Healer of New England: Depurified Before Your Very Own Eyes!”
“I’d watch either one of those shows,” Helen says.
My arm is wrapped around my middle from laughing so hard. “Maybe Angie will prove I’m a fake and then no one will want to do any television shows about me.”
Helen’s brow furrows. “But why would you want that? Without you, without your miracles, my life wouldn’t be my life.” She sounds slightly betrayed.
This is the last thing I want. “I’m sorry Helen. I promise that’s not what this is about. But sometimes, lately, my gift feels like a curse. I wouldn’t want to trade my visions. But I don’t want to be a business anymore, to be the center of an entire church.” I think of Guadalupe yesterday, and the desperation inside her son’s eyes. “I want a normal life. A television show would kill that.” I pick up a stone and grip it tightly in the center of my palm. “Sometimes I want to wish away this so-called gift.”
“But Marlena, can you even imagine life without your gift? It would be such a drastic change.”
“Sometimes I don’t care. Sometimes I just want to be free.”
Helen sighs. “You may not always feel that way. You may not like the life that comes afterward.”
“Yes,” I say, sure this is true. “Yes I will.”
“So you trust this Dr. Holbrook?” Helen asks after a long silence.
I nod. “I do.”
“All right. I’ll make an appointment to talk to her.”
I suddenly think about Helen meeting Finn. All thoughts of Finn make my heart flutter, and I smile.
“Marlena.” Helen draws out my name. “What else aren’t you telling me?”
Warmth creeps up my neck. “There might be a boy.” I try and keep my eyes on the ocean. “Dr. Holbrook has a grad assistant. I kind of might . . . like him.”
Helen drums her thighs. “You have a crush!”
I cover my eyes with my hands. “He’s so gorgeous. And tall. And perfect. His name is Finn.” I love the way his name sounds when I say it.
“How old is he?”
“Twenty-one.”
“An older crush!”
“Yes.” I slide my hands down my face and look at her over the tips of my fingers. “He doesn’t believe in me. He thinks I’m a fake.”
The playfulness in Helen’s eyes dims. “That doesn’t bother you?”
I shake my head. “If anything, it’s a relief.”
Helen stands up. “Okay then. Get dressed. We’re going out.”
I rise to my feet. “Where?”
“To Dr. Holbrook’s center so I can make an appointment in person, since I already came all the way out here. I may as well, right?”
“But—”
“Marlena! Because maybe Finn will be there and I want to check him out!”
“Oh!” I put my hand over my mouth.
“And afterward we’re going out to eat. I want all the gory details about this crush of yours. Then I can offer my expert advice.” Helen’s eyelashes flutter. “I am rather an expert in the romance and love department.”
“You really want to do all that stuff?”
Helen smiles and stands up from the step. “Of course I do. Friends are there for each other where romance is concerned.”
“I wouldn’t know.” I get up to join her.
Helen is already heading across the lawn toward the house. Her hair swings from side to side as she walks. “Well, now you do,” she calls back.
TWELVE
“What, exactly, did you tell my mother so I could spend the afternoon with you?” I ask from the passenger seat of Helen’s old, beat-up Volvo.
She shifts into gear when the stoplight turns green. “Just that I wanted to take you to lunch as an offering after the healing walk we’ll be going on.” The car speeds up. “I told her my legs have been bothering me.”
I look at Helen, at her long legs, the way her right foot moves easily between the gas pedal and the brake. “Have they?”
She laughs. “No, absolutely not.”
“So you just lied to my mother?”
“Yup,” Helen says with a shrug. “People lie to their parents all the time. Today, we’re giving you an education in normalcy. First, hugs while you’re crying. Next, your friend—because I am your friend—lies to your mother on your behalf, so we can get the hell out of your house for a few hours.” Helen reaches behind my seat and pulls a bright-green bag off the floor and plops it into my lap. “Now, you’re going to go through my stuff and pick out a real outfit to wear and not this nightgown thing”—Helen pinches the gauzy material at my shoulder—“because this just will not do, and also, one of the most typical things girls do in high school is go out of the house wearing what their mothers approve of, and immediately change clothes into something totally slutty once they’re with their friends.”
My jaw has fallen open as Helen goes through this list, her eyes still on the road, driving us past the town as naturally as José. “I’ve done that a couple of times now.”
“You’ve done what?”
“Gone out in an outfit my mother would never approve of, and on the way home changed back into one of my hateful nightgowns so she wouldn’t know.”
Helen smiles. “You’re getting more normal by the minute. And you don’t even have to stop being a healer, Marlena. You can be both, see?”
I ignore this comment. Helen means well, but it’s hard for anyone to understand what it’s like to be me. I think back to my outfit yesterday. “I haven’t worn anything slutty, though.”
“That part doesn’t matter. I was mostly kidding about the slutty part.”
“But,” I go on, “one time, the jeans were skinny jeans, and you could see my bra through the armholes of the tank top.”
“Just the right bit of slutty then.” Helen rounds the corner and heads down the road along the sea. “Perfectly normal where someone you have a crush on is concerned.”
A question has been brewing in me and I muster the courage to ask it, reminding myself that I can talk to Helen about anything. That she’s a friend. She says so herself. “In the vein of helping me be normal,” I start, then trail off when I see where we are.
“Tell me.”
“But we’re almost to Angie’s center.”
Helen pulls the car over and turns off the ignition. “We have time.” She grabs the bag from my lap and starts digging through it. “Besides, you need to change clothes. What if Finn is there when you go to see Dr. Holbrook?” She pulls out a green dress with spaghetti straps and a wide scoop neck. “Put this on and talk.”
My eyebrows arch. “Now?”
Helen turns away. “In the effort to not overwhelm you with so much normalcy, I won’t watch. Now say what you wanted to say.”
I unbutton the sleeves of my white cotton shift, trying as best I can to wiggle out of it in the passenger seat of the car. At least the road is deserted. “My question,” I begin, but again can’t manage to finish the sentence. I’m not used to having someone I can really talk to, especially about things that are slightly embarrassing.