The Sky’s the Limit: My Journey with Maryellen

I agree with Beverly and say I’m new here. Maryellen welcomes me to the neighborhood and asks where I’m from. When I tell her Cedar Top, North Carolina, she sounds enchanted, guessing it has mountains, and admits she’s always curious about places she’s never seen. She asks if I’ve ever seen the ocean. I admit I live far from it. Maryellen says the ocean is just two blocks away and asks if I want to go see it now. I shrug and say I suppose so.

I like Maryellen right away. She’s cheerful and curious, and I like her friendly questions. Beverly wants to come, too, and so do Tom and Mikey, with Scooter tilting his head and barking as if he wants to come as well. Maryellen rolls her eyes. She meant just the two of them, since the little kids only slow everyone down.

Beverly shakes her head and insists they won’t, especially since they still need to stop at Sophie’s house first. Her crown may be pretend, but her queenliness is real as she tells me I need to change out of my snowsuit. How come I’m wearing it? Maryellen sees me blush and elbows Beverly for being rude, explaining that it’s cold where I’m from. She asks if Cedar Top gets snow, and mentions that last Christmas she took the train to visit her grandparents in Georgia and saw snow for the first time. Isn’t it beautiful?

I mumble. Snow is beautiful, but right now it only reminds me of the disastrous ski race I left behind, and I push the thought away. I tell Beverly I don’t have any other clothes here since the moving van hasn’t arrived yet. Maryellen offers to lend me some of hers and show me inside the trailer, and asks Beverly to check with Mom about the beach and grab a dress for me. Beverly agrees, but decides to borrow one of Carolyn’s instead, since we’re closer in size.

Beverly trots off, and Maryellen explains that Carolyn is their fifteen-year-old older sister, who won’t mind lending an outfit. Their oldest sister, Joan, is nineteen, married to Jerry, and in college. Maryellen wants to go to college, too, to study art, and asks if I want to go as well. When I start to say I love the stars, she jumps in that she does, too, naming Grace Kelly and Gary Cooper. I laugh and shake my head. I don’t mean movie stars. I mean the ones in the sky. Constellations.

Maryellen laughs and smacks her forehead, realizing I mean the kind you need a telescope for, though I admit I don’t have one. I explain that I like how constellations come with their own pictures and stories, like Pegasus the flying horse or the archer with his bow, and that I sometimes make up my own constellations to go with pictures and stories of my own invention. Maryellen likes making up pictures, too, and I’m pleased. Emma has never once looked at the stars with me, but Maryellen’s enthusiasm makes my interest feel interesting.

We head into the trailer, with Tom, Mikey, and Scooter trailing behind. It’s a whole tiny house squeezed as neatly as the cabin of a boat. Before long, Beverly returns to say Mom agreed to the beach, as long as Tom, Mikey, and Beverly come, too. Maryellen lowers her voice and asks if my sister insists on doing everything I do. I tell her it’s the opposite: I copy Emma. Maryellen says I’m lucky, since Beverly copies her constantly. Mom calls it the sincerest form of flattery, but to Maryellen, it’s just the sincerest form of annoying.

For the first time, it strikes me that maybe Emma doesn’t want me copying her either. Maybe she’d be happier, and so would I, if I struck out on my own.

Beverly hands me a light cotton dress and sandals as though granting a royal favor. I thank her, careful not to mess up something so pretty, and ask about borrowing shorts and a t-shirt instead for the next few days. Beverly says girls can’t wear shorts to school. Surprised, I wonder if it’s different in Cedar Top, but Maryellen says that’s just the rule here.

Old-fashioned, I think, looking between Maryellen’s checked vintage blouse and Beverly’s full-skirted dress with its sash. They remind me of photos of Gran as a girl, growing up in the 1950s.

Then I spot a calendar on the trailer’s kitchen wall, November, 1955. It hits me. The watch hasn’t just brought me to Florida, it’s taken me back more than sixty years. I stagger at the thought, and Maryellen shoos the little kids out to give me privacy to change.

Alone, my knees give out. Why am I here, and should I stay? Maryellen is fun and the little kids are cute, but I’m sweaty with confusion. Whatever the mystery, I can at least manage one practical step, change my clothes.

I peel off the hot ski team uniform I never liked, since joining the team was Emma’s choice, not mine. She thought the sleek bodysuit would make us look as intense and serious as we should be while skiing. Now the memory only brings humiliation and confusion. How could Emma believe I’d cheat in a race? We’ve grown tense sharing a room, especially over the glow-in-the-dark stars I put on the ceiling, but it’s not like her to be cruel. She must really believe it, which makes it worse.

Rolling the uniform into a tight ball, I shove it into a closet and shut the door on it, then step out into the sunny Florida day feeling light and free.

Maryellen says I look far more comfortable now. Beverly jokes that I looked like a boiled hotdog before. I laugh, agreeing, but say I feel great now. We head off to the beach.