Do You Kiss Your Mother With That Mouth? (Short Essay)

                                               Illustration by Laurie Lail

By Laurie Lail

When I was a girl, my sister and I would spend the month of July with our grandmother in Forest City, North Carolina. One Saturday morning as we where strolling across the parking lot of the local Piggly Wiggly, we couldn’t help but notice a man whose grocery bag had failed him, leaving its contents splayed on the pavement. Anyone within fifty feet would have noticed him. He was pacing around a loaf of bread, splattered with busted jars of peanut butter, jelly, and pickles. He was chanting a chorus of profanity in time with his steps. 
When his wife spotted us, she nudged him from his dance, and his flushed face lost some of its glowing color as he spotted us. I remember feeling uncomfortable that we’d interrupted him because he seemed to have earned this moment. He straightened up, and let his arms drop to his side and said, “Sorry ‘bout this ladies,” he put his hand to his chest and looked at my grandmother and said, “truly sorry, ma’am.” He nodded, to my sister and me he said, ”Now girls, I shouldn’t have said those things, and you should never say those words either.”

We said, “Okay” in unison, but the truth was we where no stranger to those words. We’d heard our grandmother articulate a couple of them the previous morning after dropping a bowl of pancake batter. She not only graced us with some of these words, but she used them in lively phrases that showed their possibilities, and let’s face it, context is everything.

As I grew, like most children in this society, I became knowledgeable of the “bad-word” list available to me. There were always those kids who were proficient and liked to teach the rest of us the appropriate uses for them. I’ve grown up around swear words; we all have. During my years of restaurant work, I was certainly no stranger to these words. In appropriate company, one of these words roll quite easily from my tongue, but when I became a mother and held my new baby in my arms, I realized my life was about to undergo some big changes, and one of those changes would need to be my word choices.

I tried; I really did, and was surprisingly successful to a point. I cleaned up my language with only the occasional backslide, which to be honest, greeted me like an old friend. Yes, there were times I had forgotten my mission. But Come on; when you’re trying to console a little one with an upset stomach, and you accidentally drop his snuggle-bear in the vomit, what else is there to do? I was teaching him in the same way as the adults who had cared for me.

I have a memory of my son, when he was four, and I’d dropped him off at preschool. Anxious to play with his friends, he’d shed his coat and let it fall to the floor. Miss Sue asked him, “John, where do we put our coat?” to which he responded, “Hell if I know.” To which I responded, “I’m so sorry” as I sheepishly met Miss Sue’s eyes. She smiled and said, “They all say them sooner or later.”

That afternoon I found myself in the position of the poor fellow at the Piggly Wiggly as I tried to explain to my son that some words are bad. “How many words,” he asked. So, I listed off a few he may have heard to be sure he would know exactly which words to avoid. The little puff of skin between his eyes pinched at my explanation. So I decided to keep it simple, and I took his little hands and told him, “We simply should never say them. They can get us into trouble; they’re “bad words.” He thought for a minute, let his eyes meet mine and gently he whispered, “But you say them.”

Anyone who’s braved parenthood has probably used foul language at some moment while in the midst of raising her children, if not several moments. After separating from my husband, I became a single parent with a very modest income. Now either of those situations calls for occasional irreverence, but the combination can inspire it, and, perhaps, demand it, and let me say that it helps. That’s right, helps.

Here is an example: I’m driving down a two-lane byway. A guy pulls out in front of me forcing me to slam the breaks. I barely miss him. My tires screech, leaving a trail of black marks. When my car stops, I turn around to check my son. I turn back to the road just in time to see this guy flipping me off as he roars away. I respond by rolling my window down and screaming “you stupid mother fletcher!” Okay, I didn’t say” Mother Fletcher.” That is what I should have said, but I didn’t. I’m also sure this guy never heard a word of it, but my son did. There in front of my son, who was perched in his car seat, happily singing a song from school, not only did I shamelessly resort to name calling, but I bellowed out the dreaded “F” word, the word no parent wants to slip up and say, the word I dare not write in this article lest my son, now a teenager, stumble across it and use it against me. But honestly, I felt I could burst into flames in that moment. 

 To my surprise, John, my sweet little boy, already knew this one. He explained that another child in his class had said it, and Miss Sue put him in time-out. So, my son put me in time-out the minute we arrived home. He paced around as I sat in the appointed chair, and he would give the occasional disappointed shake of his head. He had no way of knowing that a fifteen-minute time-out had replaced both Aden Quinn and my dream kitchen as one of my top fantasies. Of course, Aden Quinn in my dream kitchen still ran neck-in-neck. All the same, I received this much needed just-sit-and-stare break because of a bad word. That day, my dirty mouth had been a blessing. So yes, I usually try not to say them, but sometimes, I know I’ll feel a little better if I let one slip.

My son is now Seventeen. He knows them all of course. He can say them in French and Spanish. Somewhere around age eleven, saying a "bad word" became part of his and his friends “secret” right of passage. This of course was to be done in the absence of an adult. Once, I caught him and a friend at the computer learning to say “Don’t piss on my shoe asshole,” in Finnish. I knew they would not only remember how to say it, but share it with friends as soon as the opportunity arose.

My son and I have had go-rounds through the last few years about his using profanity. On the one hand, I get it. It’s a way for him and his peers to announce they are adults. You know; adults who don't work,  or make dinner, or fix the ice-maker, or grocery shop, or pay bills, so swearing is all they have, and let’s face it, they could do worse. But never, can we let these people think that they may use them as they please, especially in an inappropriate place or in front of us. “What did you say? What the hell’s wrong with you? I’m standing right here.” 

       My son, since his first understanding of bad words has questioned why they exist. His reasoning no longer has the innocent curiosity it once did. We’ve moved from, “Why do we have bad words, Mommy?” and the little boy trying to make sense of his language, to the budding philosopher arguing, “Mom, if people didn’t get offended by bad words, then they wouldn’t exist. Think about it. It’s not the person who says these words that creates them, but the people who get mad about it.”

The irritating thing about his self-serving philosophy is that he makes a reasonable point. What makes  particular words bad?” It’s a good question. It’s a strange thing that we’ve decided that if certain syllables are uttered together they are offensive. How did these words become what they are, and what makes them so?

We know that “Malarkey!” is okay. These syllables may be uttered together by the Pope or the Dalai Lama and all’s well, however, were our president to say the “f-word” that would never do; well, okay, under normal circumstances anyway. Our present POTUS seems to have no scruples shouting it from his pulpit. Thanks to him, words like Shit-holes has been typed across our TV screens. "The Times they are a-changin'."

I wonder, as my son pointed out, if we were never offended by these words, would they cease to exist? What would we do if there were no such thing as bad words? Can you imagine? We may utter any set of syllables we choose and not a soul would bat an eye. We’d have to really think when we wanted to offend someone, and we’d have to come up with more creative ways to blow off steam. Perhaps pole tossing would make a comeback or actual mudslinging. I mean, really, how could we ever replace bad words, those wonderful jewels? And, I have to say; I’d miss them.

Let’s consider the significance we give them. For example, name-calling isn’t good, ever, but is telling someone she’s being a bitch worse than telling her that her behavior is pretentious, bitter, hateful, or immature? Using "bitch" is almost kinder in its vagueness. The other odd thing is that there are degrees of severity with these words.  For example, "what the hell" isn’t so bad, and is often used in a very carefree way. Shit, as in, “stop giving me shit,” or “No shit?” can be used playfully. Damn it! is considered unacceptable in formal conversation, such as court, work, and on the news, but it is a popular and understandable expression for those at home watching the news. Then there are words that have a bigger shock value. Any six year old can tell you that you can’t ever say the F-word because it’s the worst of all. Strangely enough, you can say F-word to explain that you can never say the F-word, and everyone knows precisely what F-word represents. Still, I can see the satisfaction on the face of the child who was pushed from the swing as she turns and says, “Aaaah! F-word you!” 

We also have other uses for these words other than there literal meanings. When we say, "Aw shit," we don't actually expect anyone to oblige, and when we say "damn it all,"we don’t truly think we're heaving the universe into a black hole because, thankfully, we don’t have that kind of power. We can’t damn our ex-spouse, a bit of bad luck, or the torpedoes, but I guess it’s not the actual meaning that we need, like all of these words, it’s the power of relief we feel at its utterance, the power of expression, or that extra conversational pizzazz.

Most every toddler has used the word poop, and it is a very handy and acceptable word, and even though “poop happens”, “I don’t give a poop,” and “what a poop head” can convey what needs to be expressed, it does lose a little something without its forbidden counterpart. The fact that these words aren't to be used at council meetings is exactly what gives them their zing in other venues.

No matter your relationship with these words, they are in our language, and so they have a purpose. It seems to me that we have created them because we need them. For some of us, the use of profanity is a practice we rise above, or at least try. For some, these words have given us something to tisk about when witnessing someone having a meltdown in a parking lot, making us feel the better person for not joining in. For some, swearing adds a little spice to the conversation, and for many, these words have been a health benefit by helping us manage aggravations and hardships.

I have a regular client who’s become a good friend over the years, and I think swearing together has played a part in that. She is an occasional Dr. Oz watcher; I love her anyway, and one day she met at the door and said, “Great news.”

“What’s that?”

“Doctor Oz says we’re supposed to swear. It’s good for us. He says it’s a great way to release stress.”
And I’m certain Dr. Oz is on to something. These words have warded off heart attacks and mental breakdowns. They can be spoken under our breaths when in the presence of cranky in-laws and bratty children, allowing us to grin and bear it. Screamed into a pillow and hissed in the car they get us through the aggravations of the day, the week, and the year, year after year.

As for my son, he still sometimes uses them, but like most adults, he minds the company with which he uses them. I can be proud that he is kind enough to not want to offend anyone without good reason. Through the years, I have decided there are bigger issues at stake, like grades, drugs, sexual misconduct, and so, I have decided what we will absolutely not tolerate in our family. I have picked my battles, and hearing him swear because he can't find his history notes is nothing I care to go to war over. I also know that childhood and growing pains come with stress. When John was about ten, he whipped his bike around in a pile of wet leaves and wiped out. He pushed his bike off, stood up red faced and asked, “Mom, I gotta’ say it. Can I say just one bad word?”

I thought about it. I looked around to see that we where alone and said, “Sure Honey, let’er rip.”

Baby Pictures (A story about believing)

Illustration by Laurie Lail

Laurie Lail

Xiao-Xing looked up from the faucet into the long bathroom mirror. Mary Lynn’s words burned at her temples. “I’m telling you. You don’t really belong to your parents. You don’t look nothin’ like’em. Their white, like me; you’re Chinese looking.” Mary Lynn put her finger at the corners of her eyes and stretched them into slits.

Bella was standing beside Xiao-Xing drying her hands and told Mary Lynn,

“Mrs. Jenkins said you’re not supposed to do that; it’s bullying.”

Mary Lynn dropped her hands from her face, adjusted the strap of her pink purse over her shoulder, and told Bella, “Mrs. Jenkins said you’re supposed to mind your own business.”

The other girls in the bathroom became quiet, and slowly washed and dried their hands, only taking quick glances at Xiao-Xing in the mirror. It’s what they always did when Mary Lynn started. Xiao-Xing looked them over in the mirror to see if one of them could meet her eyes and hold it, but none did, and so she met her own eyes.

Her father had told her to tell Mary Lynn that her eyes were like lotus petals; that they were graceful and beautiful. Her father told her that he thought she had the beautiful eyes of anyone’s he’d ever seen, and that she should be proud of them. She was; she just wished Mary Lynn could see it.

On the first day of class, Mary Lynn had stood in front of Xiao-Xing and said, “What’s your name? Zow-Zing? It sounds like the name of a bug spray.

Sarah was the only other girl in the first grade that looked like Xiao-Xing, but so did Sarah’s mom. Their eyes match. Sarah also knows what to say to Mary Lynn when she starts. When Mary Lynn had said to Sarah, “Hey China girl, where’s your kimono?” Sarah rolled her eyes, popped her hands on her hip, and said, “First of all, I’m not Chinese. I’m an American of Korean decent, and kimonos are Japanese. You need a trip to the library.”

Xiao-Xing squirted soap I her hands. I’m going to tell Daddy to get me a book about being Chinese.

Finally, Chandira stood next to Xiao-Xing, looked in the mirror and held Xiao-Xing’s gaze as she tossed her paper towel in the trash and said, “Ignore her.”

Xiao-Xing watched in the mirror as Chandira’s hair swish when she turned to step from the bathroom.

Xiao-Xing took a piece of stiff tan paper from the towel dispenser. She dried her hands and looked across the mirror at the reflection of Mary Lynn. Mary Lynn was running her fingers through the ends of her thin blond hair. Mary Lynn caught Xiao-Xing looking in the mirror and smiled that stupid smile of hers.

Xiao-Xing thought of how sick her Daddy had been, and she wanted to tell him she stood up to Mary Lynn. Xiao-Xing could feel heat in her chest rising as she forced herself to face Mary Lynn as she said, “They went a really long way and got me on purpose. I belong to my mom and dad as much as you belong to yours.”

Mary Lynn folded her arms and said, “No, you don’t. I look just like my mom. I even look more like your mom than you do.”

“When my mom comes to get me today, you can ask her if I belong or not.”

“She has to say ‘Yes’ because of the parent police.” Mary Lynn pulled her Hello Kitty lip balm out of her purse and waved it as she spoke. “It’s because of that thing in the bible, ‘What you reap, so shall you so.” A Sunday school teacher at the bible school said it’s a law about how you treat people.” Mary Lynn smeared on some lip balm. “Your parents only got you to get into heaven.”

A few more girls scurried from the bathroom as a few more stepped up to the long sink and quickly began washing their hands. Mary Lynn popped the lip balm into the purse she carries everywhere and stepped over to the towel dispenser. She twisted the knob and tore off a square and whispered in a secretive tone. “If parents don’t act like they love their kids, then the so shall service people are called, and then they tell the police, and then the police put the parents in jail.”

Mary Lynn threw the piece of paper towel into the garbage and walked back toward the sinks to look in the mirror again and fix her barrettes. Xiao-Xing noticed her orange glitter nail polish was chipped as Mary Lynn smiled and said, “You didn’t grow in your mom’s belly. They ordered you off the computer. You said so yourself.”

Xiao-Xing could feel her eyes starting to sting. “You don’t know. You can’t even spell bicycle!” Xiao-Xing turned and ran from the bathroom and toward Mrs. Jenkins’s class.

Mrs. Jenkins stopped her. “We don’t run in the halls Xiao-Xing.”

Xiao-Xing bowed her head, and a tear fell on one of her purple suede shoes with the flower snap on the strap, and it made a black dot. Mrs. Jenkins lifted Xiao-Xing’s chin and said, “What’s wrong?”

Xiao-Xing could fill the wetness on her face and caught enough breath to say, “Mary Lynn says I didn’t grow in my mom’s belly, and I’m not hers, cause I was ordered from the computer.”

“Xiao-Xing, you know better.”

Mrs. Jenkins took Xiao-Xing’s hand and led her to the teacher’s desk and pulled a tissue from the box, and handed it to Xiao-Xing. “Sit in my chair until you feel better.”  

Xiao-Xing knew Mary Lynn was wrong about her parents, but all she could think about were the lack of baby pictures in her home. There were only pictures from when she was older, and there were no pictures of people who looked like her, except one of her mom’s friends from college. Emma Watson’s mom has books and books of Emma’s baby pictures. One has butterflies pasted around it, and the words Precious Girl written on the front. Inside, the pictures are surrounded with little glittery cutouts of baby shoes, and bottles, and rattles. There is even a baby picture of Emma in the sink getting a bath. It’s framed in polka dot paper and has little rubber ducks, and glittery words that say Splish-Splash I Was Taking a Bath. My parents only have one baby picture of me. It isn’t even in color. The parent’s police tell them they better get some more pictures or they’d be in trouble. Xiao-Xing began to sob.

Mrs. Jenkins touched the arm of teacher’s aide, Miss Everett, and Miss Everett nodded. Mrs. Jenkins leaned close to Xiao-Xing and said, “Miss Everett will take you to call your mom.”

Miss Everett’s hand felt warm, and when they stepped into the hall, Miss Everett bent down to Xiao-Xing and said, “Okay, spill it.”

“Mary Lynn doesn’t think I belong because I’m not from this country.”

“The only people who are actually from this country are Native Americans. Don’t you remember Mrs. Jenkins lessons on that? Mary Lynn’s people are from Europe. My people were brought over to be slaves. So here we all are, together, everybody with as much right as the next. Who do you want to believe?”

“You. I just wish Mary Lynn understood.”

“You’re not responsible for what anybody thinks but you.”

Xiao-Xing sat in the big wooden chair in the office and tried to think about the women in Star Wars. Her dad had watched all the movies with her. Everything about Star Wars is wonderful. Everyone looked different from everyone else, and it was okay. Women are strong and fight evil, even blue women. Her most very favorite was Queen Amidala. She reminded Xiao-Xing of the pictures with the gold frames that her mother has on the walls of the little room she calls the foyer. They’re the first thing Xiao-Xing sees when she comes home. The woman in the pictures have beautiful colorful robes, and black hair twisted into wild shapes just like Queen Amidala, and their eyes are like Xiao-Xing’s, like lotus petals, and one of the women has a long sword, like Jedi warriors.

Xiao-Xing heard the lady at the desk talk into the phone. “Mrs. Daniels, we have Xiao-Xing here, and she’s very upset. You want to talk to her … Yep, that’s it. I don’t what we’re going to do about this…alright.” The lady motioned for Xiao-Xing to round the desk, and she handed her the receiver.

Xiao-Xing’s mother’s voice sounded tired. “Okay honey, what happened?”

“It’s Mary Lynn, she says that if I didn’t grow in your belly then I don’t belong to you. Did you know you’re being watched by the parent police?”

“Good lord.”

Xiao-Xing turned her back to the lady at the desk, who smiling and shaking her head. She always listened when Xiao-Xing talked to her mom.

Her mother’s voice didn’t sound as patient as she’d of liked. “Xiao-Xing, we’ve talked about this. I want you to go back to class and ignore that Mary Lynn. I’ve told you, this is fun for her because she gets to you.”

“Why don’t you tell her mom? It wasn’t just my eyes this time, and you know she makes fun of my name too.”

“Xiao-Xing, your name is special, and your eyes are lovely. They are absolutely lovely. I’ve told you this a hundred times. Daddy and I love you, you are our daughter, and what a six-year-old girl says, or anybody else says, cannot change that. Now, go back to class, and we’ll talk later.”

Xiao-Xing handed the nosy office lady the phone. Her mom had been acting different ever since her dad started going to the doctor’s for something called chemo. When her dad was sleeping her mom was spending a lot of time in her studio to sketch and paint, wanting to close the door and always telling Xiao-Xing to go find something to do. She hadn’t wanted Xiao-Xing to watch Star Wars movies because her mom said she was too young, but ever since her dad got sick, her mom let them watch them together. Revenge of the Sith was her favorite.

Miss Everett came back to the office and took Xiao-Xing’s hand and walked her back to class. As they crossed the big corridor Miss Everett’s shoes made clicking sounds that echoed. Mrs. Long, the guidance counselor, was walking Mary Lynn toward the office. As they passed, Mary Lynn didn’t look at Xiao-Xing. Miss Everett pulled Xiao-Xing along, but Xiao-Xing looked back at Mary Lynn once more. Good, she’s finally in trouble for her big fat know-it- all mouth.

Mrs. Jenkins handed Xiao-Xing a worksheet and told to her to do the problems inside the shapes, find the color for the number in the key, and then color the shapes. Xiao-Xing took the sheet, sat at her desk and worked the first problem. 5+5=10, and 10 is blue. Xiao-Xing saw that the worksheet read Quack- Quack at the top; it’s going to be a duck. She pulled out her crayons from the back of her desk. I need to master the powers of the force, like the Jedi women, and stop Mary Lynn’s mouth. 6+2=8, yellow. I’ll use my powers of the force and send the So Shall Service people to her house. 7+3=10, blue.

Xiao-Xing looked out the window at the swings. She could feel the force. She pictured the parent police on their way to Mary Lynn’s house. A Jedi's strength flows from the Force. Feel the force. One policewoman says to the other, “It’s bad. So Shall Services said there is not one baby picture in that house. And they say mean things, and her hair’s too blonde.” Xiao-Xing laughed out loud.

“Xiao-Xing” Mrs. Jenkins said, “Let’s focus on our work.”

Xiao-Xing’s mother picked her up from school, and as she plopped in her booster seat. Her mother smiled at her and said, “Feeling better?”

Xiao-Xing liked that her mother was smiling and nodded.    

“Good. And you know we love you?”

Xiao-Xing nodded again. Xiao-Xing knew why there was only one baby picture. Her mother had explained it to her more than once. Her parents had had to wait a whole year before they could go and get her, so they only had the one baby picture that the orphanage had sent. Her mother stopped the car at a red light and looked back at Xiao-Xing in the rearview mirror. “You know why we call you Xiao-Xing, but if you want, we can call you by your middle name, Grace.”

Xiao-Xing shook her head, and said, “It’s too late now. Everybody knows my name.”

Xiao-Xing didn’t really want to give up her name. I want stupid Mary Lynn to know how special it is. Xiao-Xing had been told that she was found on a bench in a park near the orphanage with a note pinned to her asking that she be called Xiao-Xing. It means “morning star.” It was the only thing she had from the mother who grew her.

Her mother looked into the rearview mirror and smiled. “We’re going to pick up Daddy. It took a little longer today. The doctor wanted to check his blood. Aunt Katie is with him, and you’re having a pajama party with her tonight.”

Xiao-Xing knew this meant her dad had had chemo. He looked a lot like Hans Solo in A New Hope, but now he was thinner.

They pulled into a hospital parking space. Xiao-Xing reached from her car seat and grabbed the driver’s side headrest and pulled herself up for a better view. “Mom, there he his; honk the horn and wave.” Xiao-Xing released the headrest as her father and the Katie walked arm in arm under the awning and became easier to view. Her dad was holding onto Aunt Katie, and he stumbled a little and Katie had to grab him.

“Dad,” Xiao-Xing called from the car.

“Xiao-Xing, no. Just be quiet,” her mother snapped. Xiao-Xing noticed her mother hadn’t turned off the car and was grabbing the steering wheel really tight. Xiao-Xing saw her mother’s eyes in the rear view mirror. She had puddles in them.

“Mom? What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bark. Use your inside voice, remember?”

Xiao-Xing watched as her mother bowed her head and brought the bottom of her shirt to her face, dabbed her eyes, and said, “You know what honey? I should pull the car around and pick them up. Get back in your booster seat.”

Xiao-Xing felt scared. Her mother was still wiping at tears with her hands, and when her mother saw Xiao-Xing looking, she turned the rear view down. Xiao-Xing saw Aunt Katie put her left arm around her daddy’s waist, and he gave Katie a slight smile, as she took her right hand and held his. Xiao-Xing wanted to call out to her father and Katie to come help her mom, but couldn’t do it with her inside voice.

When they arrived home, Xiao-Xing’s mother told her to go to the living room with Katie, and her mom began getting the ice water and crackers for her dad like always. Xiao-Xing wanted her dad to sit with her and ask her about school, but she knew she was to leave him alone for a few days. She found The Empire Strikes Back and put it in the CD player.  

Xiao-Xing curled into Katie during the part of the movie where Darth Vader is dying and he asks Luke to, “help me take this mask off” so that Vader could see Luke “just for once” with his own eyes, the phone rang and made Xiao-Xing jump. She heard her mother’s muffled voice. She heard her father begin the vomiting.

Xiao-Xing’s mother came from the bedroom, and her mom’s eyes looked weak and weird as she said, “Katie, I think you two should go have pizza, it’s about supper time. Xiao-Xing, honey, go get what you want to wear tomorrow and the next day.

Xiao-Xing said, “I’m staying two nights? Let me stay with Daddy. I can take care of Daddy.”

Her mother smiled, but her eyes looked like they wanted to cry, and she said, “Daddy just need some rest, and so do I. You’ll have fun with Aunt Katie, and maybe Daddy can call you before bedtime.”

Xiao-Xing liked Aunt Katie. Katie called her Xingy-pop, and played her music really loud, and they would dance until the lady down stairs banged on her ceiling, but Xiao-Xing didn’t want to leave. She wanted her dad to snuggle her and listen to her read some of her books.

Her mother bent down and kissed her forehead, and said, “Go have some fun.”

Aunt Katie took her for pizza in a restaurant where there were lots of swirly designs on the walls. Xiao-Xing didn’t feel hungry. Her stomach felt like were gerbils wrestling inside. The pizza came, and Katie said, “Hey Xingy-pop, check this guy out.” The server had a black shirt, nose ring and spiky hair. Xiao-Xing looked back at Katie, and Katie nodded her head towards his forearm. There it was, a tattoo of Yoda, the Jedi master. “Yoda,” whispered Xiao-Xing. The server smiled and said, “Oh yeah. It’s all about the force. It’s with you, you know?”

 It’s a sign from the confederation. They sent him. They’re with me. I am protected.

It was fun at Aunt Katie’s, like always, but Xiao-Xing kept thinking of her dad vomiting and her mother crying. Katie asked her about school, and Xiao-Xing told her about Mary Lynn, and how she makes fun of her name. Aunt Katie told her, “Xingy-Pop, you’ve got the best name. It doesn’t sound like bug spray. It sounds like the final touch to a magic spell. Like, I wish Mary Lynn would stop saying mean stuff. Then you wave your hands and say, Xiao-Xing! And the spell is cast; Mary Lynn isn’t able to say mean things anymore without feeling bad later.”

Xiao-Xing laughed. She knew it wasn’t true, but it was fun to think about. Then she asked her aunt, “When is Daddy going to be better?”

“I don’t know, Xingy-Pop. We just have to be patient and supportive.”

“My mom cried in the car. Is she sick too?”

“No, she just feels bad for your dad because she loves him.”

Aunt Katie didn’t drive through the drop-off the next morning. She parked the car in the lot across from the school to walk Xiao-Xing in. Xiao-Xing asked her, “Wouldn’t it be cool if Princess Amidala could call on the Jedi masters to remove any forces from the dark side that are in my house?”

Aunt Katie shut the door of her VW and turned around to face Xiao-Xing. “Your house will always be happy, and you will always be loved.” Then Katie smiled and waved her hands and said “Xiao- Xing!” Katie helped her from the car seat, and she walked Xiao-Xing into school.

 Mary Lynn was standing by the door when they reached the classroom and asked, “Where’s your mom?”

Xiao-Xing told her, “She let me spend the night with Katie for fun.”

“Are you sure? Maybe she didn’t want you there.”

Xiao-Xing watched Katie as she bent down to Mary Lynn.

“Listen, Xiao-Xing is so much fun. She never says hateful things, only fun and imaginative stuff. I like those kinds of people. Anyway, I had to beg her mom to let her stay with me. Xiao-Xing and I had a wild night, we like to dance and party; you know? So, not too many questions today, okay?” Then Katie winked at Xiao-Xing. Xiao-Xing had to curl her lips in over teeth a take a long deep breath so she wouldn’t laugh because she was sure if she started it would be hard to stop.

When the class started and they were told to sit at their desk, Mary Lynn turned around to Xiao-Xing and said, “Hey, Zowi-Ziiiing, your aunt has purple hair. She looks kooky, but then she’s not really your aunt.”

“You don’t know anything. Like, you don’t know my name is really magic, and if you use it wrong, it can backfire.”

Xiao-Xing could feel it. The force was with her. She was going to use it to shut that Mary Lynn’s mouth once and for all.

Mrs. Jenkins passed out worksheets. Xiao-Xing liked language arts. She led her pencil across the dotted lines of the word mailbox; it’s a compound word, like Skywalker. The force runs strong in my family, my family. It doesn’t matter if you come from different countries, what matters is what you decide. You can even be from different planets, but, you’re still family.

The next day, when everyone sat in the floor crisscross applesauce and Mrs. Jenkins was reading a story, Xiao-Xing heard a woman yelling in the hall, “She’s my daughter; I’ll do what the hell I want.”

The woman came into the class and stumbled. Something was wrong with her. She was swaying like she’d been spinning really fast.

The woman said, “Mary Lynn come on. That son of bitch didn’t pay the rent. We’re outta’ here; we’re going.”

Xiao-Xing had never seen Mary Lynn look so scared. Mary Lynn’s hands were shaking when she stood up slowly and walked toward the woman. Principal Martinez came in and told Mrs. Jenkins, “Laila, take the kids outside.” Mrs. Jenkins stood and said, “Okay, we’re going to take a break for a nature walk. Remember, this week we’re looking for conifers. Do you remember what that means?”

As they headed out the door Xiao-Xing looked on as Principal Martinez was telling the woman she’d have to come to the office to sign Mary Lynn out, but the lady said, “This is my daughter. I don’t have to sign nothing,” and the lady fell into Mrs. Jenkins’s desk.

Xiao-Xing rubbed her sweaty palms down her flowered pants. Mary Lynn has a sick mom.

Miss Everett said, “Okay everybody, outside we go.”

They were standing on the playground, and Mrs. Jenkins was saying something about spruce trees and birds when the police pulled up. It was the parent policed, Xiao-Xing just knew it. She had used the force, and she had caused them to come. It’s not funny like she thought it would be. It’s like Yoda says, “When you look at the dark side, careful you must be, for the dark side looks back.” I didn’t mean. I take it back.

Xiao-Xing’s mother stepped into the office. The lady behind the desk said, “Thanks for coming. She was really upset about all this.” Xiao-Xing started crying again the minute she saw her mother. Xiao-Xing could see the nosy lady was staring, but she didn’t care. “It’s all my fault.”

“No, baby, it isn’t. You are good to the core. Nothing that has happened is your fault. Come on, let’s go home and talk.

They sat on the couch, and Xiao-Xing’s mother put her arms around her and said that the police would get help for Mary Lynn’s mom, and that Mary Lynn would probably be happier. Her mother kissed her forehead and said, “Your dad is feeling better, and his blood test showed that he is getting better. He’s taking a shower, and he’s going to watch a movie with you.”

Xiao-Xing clapped and then hugged her mom and said, “I like it when we’re all together.”

“I liked that too, but it’s just for a while, okay. Listen, Aunt Katie asked if you could stay with her again tonight. She wants you to help her make cookies and watch Lilo and Stich.”

“Why can’t she stay here? We can make cookies here.”

“Because I’m taking Daddy to a doctor’s appointment early in the morning, the same time you have to be at school, so Katie will take you to school before she goes to work.”

The doorbell rang, and Xiao-Xing followed her mom to the front door.

Aunt Katie bounced in and said “Hey, Xingy-pop. I’m gonna take you to roller skate tonight. So let’s find you something sparkly to wear.”

Xiao-Xing’s mom said, “Come on in, Katie. We’re watching a movie and David and I have something to show Xiao-Xing, and you might like to see it too.”

They followed Xiao-Xing’s mom into her studio. Her mom pulled out a big book with glittered words on the cover and a copy Xiao-Xing’s baby picture, and it had been colored. Her mom called through the house, “David, you ready?”

Xiao-Xing heard her dad call, “Yeah, I’m putting shoes on.”

His voice sounded normal, not weak or cracked like sometimes after chemo.

Her mother clutched the big book. “Let’s go sit on the couch.”

Xiao-Xing sat between her mom and dad, and Katie sat the sofa arm. Her mom put the big book across Xiao-Xing’s lap and said, “It isn’t finished, but I thought you should see it. It’s not really pictures. It’s drawings I’ve made. This is how we imagined you when we were waiting to go get you.”

Xiao-Xing opened the album. The first sketch was a baby Xiao-Xing on her belly looking up. The next one was baby Xiao-Xing laying back with a little purple bunny tucked under her arm, and her mom pointed to the lavender glittery words and asked, “Can you read that?” Xiao-Xing sounded out Snuggle Bunny.

The next drawing was baby Xiao-Xing in a little tub and a woman with straight black hair and lotus petal eyes pouring water from a cup over baby Xiao-Xing’s shoulders and smiling at the baby. Xiao-Xing’s mom tucked a string of hair behind Xiao-Xing’s ear and said, “It couldn’t have been easy for your birth mother to let you go. That’s why she pined the note with your special name. So, I put her in your book.”

Xiao-Xing’s dad bent down to take a closer look, and said, “I bet she’s related to Princess Amidala.” Xiao-Xing smiled at her dad. He had color in his face. She looked back at the picture and ran her fingers over the image of her birth mom, and said, “Maybe she is, dad.”

 Xiao-Xing turned the page a saw a drawing where Xiao-Xing’s mother is holding the baby Xiao-Xing, and her dad is sitting beside her, and they are both smiling at the baby. Xiao-Xing looked at the baby’s eyes; she could see it now. Those eyes are really lovely.

Her mom made tickling strokes on Xiao-Xing arm. “Do you like it, honey?”

“Yes, I love it.”

Her mom said, “I’ve been thinking about the year we waited for you, and how excited we were, and the pictures that were in my mind. I thought you should know.”

Xiao-Xing looked back at the picture on the cover and sounded out the words: “Our Beautiful Daughter, Xiao-Xing,” And it took a minute to sound out the words beneath the picture “Morning Star: Dawn of Knowledge - Faithful Love”

No doubt about it, the force is with us all.