Mainstream Marie

My best friend from Kindergarten was Melissa. Her parents were German and I remember them fondly--Godfrey and Rose. I credit Godfrey for helping learn how to ride a bike. Rose was like a second mother to me and I spent many afternoons at Melissa's house playing in her pink room with her dolls.

"What colour is your room?" Melissa asked me one day. She had never been to my house. I was too embaressed to show her where my room was situated in comparison to the rest of the family. Melissa was an only child and she slept next to her parents room.

"White. Just plain white," I replied and avoided eye contact. I did not have any posters, wallpaper or design on my walls. It was devoid of colour and therefore devoid of any emotion. I always felt happy in Melissa's pink and sunny room compared to my dreary grey and white dungeon.

We would play with her dollhouse everyday. She had a doll collection from all over the world that lined the shelves on her walls and an immense Barbie collection. Pretty much the only toy I had was my bike (which was more of a transportation vehicle than a toy) and a doll that mother had sewn for me. I did everything with that doll. I had named her Marie. My mother stuffed it with shreds of old clothes, with two buttons for eyes and red thread for its tight-lipped smile. The yellow yarn was slowly falling out--Marie was almost bald. She also had a Pakistani look, fitted with red and gold outfit. And she was the only toy I had--and I was extremely embaressed to admit that to Melissa.

"Can I see your room?"

"I am sorry. You cannot," I said sadly.

"But why not?" she insisted. I knew I was going to have to ramp up my imagination to get out of this predicament. What will she think of it when she sees the barren walls, the 'old people linens' and the adult furniture that used to be my parents bedroom suite? Melissa had a Donny and Marie bedset, a carousel lamp, and a large, wooden pony in the corner and all sorts of neat stuff.

"My room...its...well its haunted!" I exclaimed. Melissa's eyes grew wide and she leaned forward.

"And you sleep in there??" She had dropped her Barbie and the furniture flew out of the dollhouse and scared both of us.

"Yes, I do. But I have tamed the ghost. You see, he actually lives in my dining room but sometimes he comes downstairs into my room to be with me." I remember my nightly trips upstairs to my parent's bedroom, yelling at the chandelier on the way.

Melissa was intrigued. But my story did not get the desired effect I expected.

"Now I really want to come and see your room. Maybe the ghost and I can be friends!" My jaw dropped. What the hell was she talking about?

"You want to be friends with the ghost? Well I am not sure if he would like that....I mean he is used to seeing only me. You might scare him, you know." I was trying quickly to dissuade her from coming over.

"Are you scared? I mean its your bedroom. How do you sleep at night if he comes into your room? You must be friends. So he is a friendly ghost!" She jumped up excited and ran to her closet. I sat motionless trying to understand what had just happened.

"What are you doing?"

"I am looking for the right dress to wear when I go and see your bedroom! I will be over in two hours, after my lunch!"

I smacked my forehead. Good God. She was serious about coming over....and I was in trouble. My worry was less about the ghost living in my house; but more about the state of my room.

"I have to go," I abruptly stood up to take my leave. I wobbled out of her house and ran home. Something needed to be done and fast. But there was not enough time. I flew in the front door and ran past my father who was reading the newspaper, towards my mother at the stove.

"Mama, you need to paint, wallpaper and design my room so it looks like a girl lives there!" I yelled. I flew upstairs to my parents room and looked for anything to dress it up. I looked around and realized their room was just as desolate as mine. I ran to the bathroom and looked around wildly. I grabbed the purple hairy mat near the tub and turned around. My father stood at the doo,r shaking his head.

"What on Earth is going on?" he demanded. My brain was still in motion as I eyed the green doyley on the kleenex box.

"Papa! We need to decorate my room fast. Melissa wants to come over and see it. Hurry, there is no time. Please go to the store and by me some dolls, stuffed animals and a Donny and Marie bedspread!"

I could see the vein in his head twitch. He blocked me as I tried to brush past him at the bathroom door. "I am not buying any of this useless things. You want to show her something? Show her all the exercise books your Uncle brings home to you. Impress her with your mind!"

I curled my lip under my nose (a habit I still do today when I am not impressed).

"My mind?!? When I go to her house, we don't talk about HER mind! Ugh, she is going to be SO BORED, Papa! My room is so boring! There is nothing to play with!" At this point I was hyperventilating. She will never be my friend again after she sees my room, I thought. I ran wildly through the house, trying to find things of colour. I even pulled out one of my mother's sequined saris and placed it over my bed. The shaggy purple bath mat was placed carefully in front of the door and the doyley was unceremoniously strung over my lamp as an impromptu cover. My mother came down to investigate.

"Oh Mama! I have no toys!"

"Show her the doll I made you. Show her Marie," she smiled. She knew I walked all over the house with that thing under my arm.

"NO! I can't. Its SO ugly," I responded, bewildered. My mother stopped smiling and fell silent. She did not speak another word and went back upstairs.

I stepped back to examine my room. Red sari, purple mat and a green doyley. It looked like a scene out of the Wizard of Oz. Not the most romantic, girly girl looking room. I picked up the globe and try to shove it into the closet but it lurked out as if it was spying on me. I turned around and saw Marie smiling at me from my bed. I hid her under one pillow. In my opinion at the time, that was the real ghost in my room. A homemade, bald doll. And ironically it was her that kept me sane at night, all by myself, two floors down from the rest of the family.

The doorbell rang. It was Melissa. And she looked beautiful. She wore a peach, ruffled dress with a white cardigan, frilly peach socks and white shoes. I still remember the outfit today because it was juxtaposed with the Pakistani outfit my mother made me wear to honour her arrival! Mine was shocking pink with gold fringes and bottoms which were too big, forcing me to hike them to my chest under the tunic!

When my mother heard that Melissa was 'invited' she insisted for all of us to wear traditional clothes. She was so excited that she hand-made samosas and quickly cooked biryani. I feared for my life. The house stunk to high heaven of oil and spice. Melissa would never eat OUR food. She was German! She loved sausages and sauerkraut! But my mother put Melissa at the table and fed her like a mother would feed her favorite child--with love and patience.

Melissa gobbled down three samosas but the biryani was too spicy and she politely declined when my mother insisted she try more. My heart was beating in my head with trepidation --maybe I could make her forget about my room.

We watched a bit of TV when she could no longer wait. "Where is your room?" She got up off the sofa and began to search. I stopped her. She was standing just outside my door.

"It's not what you expect," I sighed.

"Did the ghost mess it up?"

"There is no ghost. I lied. I just don't think you will like it." I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes. I looked down and then slowly pushed open the door. Melissa walked in and smiled. She touched the sari on the bed,sat down and looked around in amazement. I continued to look at my feet. This was it. I would not be able to go out in public after this. She was the first and only friend to see my room.

Melissa saw something and walked towards my closet. Damn, that stupid globe! My Uncle had bought it from the University of Toronto bookstore where he was studying. She pulled it out and placed it in the middle of the room. "Oh I love this! Its the world. Here, lets find Germany and Pakistan!" I relented and walked over to watch. She spun it around and found both countries.

"This is so cool!" She then walked over towards my bed and stopped. She bent her head to look more closely. Damn, ....Marie!! I ran over to stop her but she had already seen it. My doll's foot was protruding out beneath the pillow. Melissa pulled her out, in all her glory. I was flabbergasted and embaressed. She examined it closely and turned it over. She was completely fascinated.

"Did someone make this?"

"Um, yeah," I sighed. "My mother made her. Her name is Marie and she is the only doll I have," I said in a quiet voice. I could not even look at Marie. She looked old and warn in Melissa's hand.

"She is beautiful. I cannot believe your Mom made this for you. My mom has never made me anything in my entire life. You are so lucky! Marie should be on top of your bed, not hiding under a pillow!" And with that, Melissa nestled her between two pillows and looked at her admiringly. I was shocked.

"You have a great room! And downstairs away from your parents, all to yourself. Lucky duck you are!" I followed her out of my room, still not comprehending her words.

"I have to go now! Thanks for having me over and showing me your cool room!" Melissa bounded up the stairs towards my mother in the kitchen.

"Thank you for the lovely snacks. And I LOVE Marie. Can you make me one too?" My mother patted her head and promised to make her a doll. I stood with my mouth open. After Melissa had gone, I sat at the kitchen table, watching my mom cook in silence.

"Are you going to make Melissa a doll?"

"Yes, she asked me to," my mom said not looking at me.

"Could I ask you one thing, Mama? Please don't make her as pretty as Marie, ok?"