I learn a new word

Friday, 9 January 2010

It snowed over the night, but it was not very much and in fact the house wasn't even as chilly as I expected. I had a soothing warm shower in the morning and stood at my mirror doing my face wash for a while before Lisa came in. She was in her nightgown, one of the ones Mother made, like a long version of an 18th-century shift but in flannel, white with little red-and-gold roses scattered about it. She padded in with socks on her feet and leaned back against the wainscot beside the basin where I daubed at my face. I had my long white towel draped round my shoulders and the regular-sized one binding up my hair, but it was not cold enough to worry about more than that even though the basin is right next to the window. 'Hey,' she said.

'Hey,' I said.

'How was your shower?'

'Hot,' I said. 'Only way to have it on a cold morning.'

She smiled at me, leaning back against the wall and folding and refolding her hands in front of herself. 'You don't look cold,' she said.

I shrugged. 'I'm not.'

She leaned there, going on with her hands like that and swivelling a little, back and forth, on her heels. I realised she was looking me over, but I've always known she likes to look me over. When you're six and you have teenaged sisters, you're going to be fascinated by them. Jessy and I know we're her role models. When you're sixteen or eighteen and your six-year-old sister looks up to you, it's a pretty high honour.

Then again, having a six-year-old sister does have its awkward moments. She spent a long few minutes just looking at me-- as I said I wasn't dressed-- and then said, 'When can I get fuzz on my cootie?'

I moved the eyeliner pencil away before I laughed. 'What?!'

She got a little red, swivelling on her heels like that, and looked down-- at about my hip, maybe lower. 'I just wondered,' she said.

'Wondered about your... what was it--?' I looked down at her.

'Cootie,' she said quietly. 'That's what the boys call it.'

I scowled then. 'What boys?'

She got redder. 'Well, Richard and his friends call it that. They say it's what girls have.'

I nodded. 'We do, but I don't think Richard and his friends have any business talking about it like that in front of you.'

She shrugged then. 'Richard says his mother doesn't have fuzz on hers.'

I went red then. 'Good Lord!' I said. 'How on earth would he know?'

'He says he saw it,' Lisa said.

'Good Lord!' I put down the makeup bag on the back of the basin, wrapped the towel round my shoulders and strode round her and out to my room.

'Are you mad?' she asked, following me.

'No. Not at you, anyway. I just think this Richard character is a little unnecessarily rakish for my little sister to be fraternising with.'

'He's just a boy,' she said. 'They're all like that.'

'Remind me to tell Mother to say something to the school then,' I said, and took out my clothes to get dressed.

'Jessy says you get fuzz when you get your buppies,' Lisa said.

I smiled a little then. 'Yes, a little before, sometimes.'

'Will I get it when I'm eleven?'

I smiled at her. 'Maybe. Maybe a little after that.'

'Will I get it when I'm twelve?'

I nodded. 'I would think so.'

She nodded too. 'Okay,' she said, and she turned to go then.

'Out of curiosity,' I said, and waited for her to turn back, 'why are you wondering about it?'

Lisa got a little red then. For whatever she doesn't know, she makes up for it by blushing really well. She's studied in all the ladylike graces already-- thanks to Mother, me, and Jessy, as well as Gran. I have no doubt that when she's twelve she will be the most dastardly little charmer in whatever school she's in then. 'I don't know....' She stood swivelling on her heels again-- she does that when she's shy or embarrassed. 'Will I be as pretty as Jessy is?'

I smiled and went to her, bent down, and kissed her head. 'You already are,' I said.

'No I'm not. She's pretty and has pretty hair and pretty eyes and pretty buppies.'

'And fuzz on her cootie?' I giggled.

Lisa giggled too. 'Yes.'

I bent over and kissed her again. When I do that, especially naked, she looks upwards and I know what she sees. But she never says much about me. It's well carried in the family that Lisa takes after Jessy more than me anyway-- they are two of a kind, separated by ten years, both playful, witty, cuddly and with a tendency to pamper themselves. Jessy may be her role model, but I am almost a second mother. I'm the one she comes in to snuggle with when she's having a bad dream or feeling too chilly, not Jessy, and I'm the one she asks the important questions to. And as I said, it's a pretty high honour, especially when I think that I am actually closer to Mother (my stepmother, Lisa's mummy) in age than I am to her child.

I remember one time when Mother was still our nanny, a beautiful young woman (actually a teenager) living with us as an au pair, and I happened to wander in to her room and came upon her just putting on her bra. And I stood there and stared at her as though she were a goddess. We always thought she was pretty, and I had seen her in swimsuits (almost always a bikini unless she was swimming laps) plenty of times, but suddenly I was eight and she was gorgeous and I felt terrifically envious. And I started asking her about things, when she got her first period and how she knew it was coming and how she felt when parts of her started developing, and she never flinched and never got embarrassed and never refused to answer anything I asked. She realised then I was her role model and she considered it a very high honour. And so when I think about that, I realise that the way I pay back my terrific role model is to be the best one I can be for her child.

'Well,' I said, 'you are already very pretty, and your mother is pretty, and your sister Jessy is pretty, and I know you will only get prettier and prettier as you grow up. So I want you to remember that, and don't worry too much about when everything will happen to you. God provides in His own time, you know.'

She nodded. 'I know. But what if it never comes?'

'What if what never comes?'

'My... you know. Fuzz on my cootie.'

'Oh, it will come, sweetie.'

'You have it and Jessy has it,' she said-- and now she looked down at me as though to remind herself-- but Richard's mother doesn't. And I'm pretty sure she's old enough.'

I got red then. 'Well, all girls get it, but some girls just shave it off.'

'Shave it? Like with a razor?'

I nodded.

'Isn't that sharp?'

'Very sharp,' I said.

'Ewww!' And she covered her crutch, in the nightgown, with both hands then. 'What if I don't want it off?'

I laughed. 'Then don't shave it,' I said simply.

She nodded then. 'I won't!'

There it is-- common sense from the mouths of babes. 'There's a good girl,' I said, and turned to go back and step into my panties.

'I want to be pretty like you are,' she said softly then.

I stood up, shimmying into the panties, and smiled over at her. 'You will be, sweetie.'

She giggled a little and scampered off.

On the way down to the car Jessy asked me, 'Did she come into your room again last night?'

'No,' I said. 'Just after my shower.'

'She adores you,' Jessy told me. 'She's lucky to have you.'

'And you,' I said.

Jessy shrugged. She's heard that before. 'She learns more from you.'

'I learn from her too. Like, this morning, she taught me a new word,' I said, and when we got into the car I told her about it.

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