The Jade Knife

My mother is the queen of planning. I’m sure she even has a crown, scepter, and sash hidden away in a
dresser drawer (under all our childhood memorabilia, of course) that declare her the monarch of plotting,
scheming, and otherwise being in other people’s business.
Now don’t get me wrong; I love my mother and her heart is always in the right place. It’s just that
sometimes, she’s quite oblivious and was very clearly out of touch with reality when I came home that day
from school and she made her suggestion. I should have said no. I should have rolled my eyes like any good
teenager would do.
But, for once in my life, I listened.

“Hey, Mum, I’m home!” My voiced echoed in our high entryway. My cat seemed to smile at me from
the top of the stairs where he poked his mottled gray head through the railings; he quickly leaped down to
join me as a wandered into the kitchen. I deposited my bag soundly on the floor, but didn’t even have my
hand off the strap before the expected, “Don’t you leave that in the kitchen!” filtered up from the office
downstairs. My mother came shortly behind.
“How was school?” she asked expectantly as she sat down at our busy kitchen table. Junk mail was
sorted neatly from the bills and other important mail. The placemats were already laid out for dinner – white
ones with big, colourful cartoon flowers that belonged in a farmhouse. Our home was usually decorated in
themes; this particular cycle was bright floral patterns. Don’t get me started.
“Okay, I guess. We learned about some philosophers in Socials today. They were kinda cool.”
“Yeah? That’s good. Do you have any football stuff coming up?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Oh, too bad. Anything else going on?”
I was suspicious now. My mother usually wanted the play by play for the day’s events, no matter how
mundane, but this seemed directed. Pointed, even. I hated it when my mother was pointed. It usually meant
she was up to something.
“Nope, nothing else going on.” Pregnant pause. If she was going to pounce, she’d do it now. And…
Nothing. I broke the awkward silence by going to the fridge and grabbing a Coke. I hadn’t realized how hot I
was until the cool air from the appliance blasted my eyes shut. I peeked at my mother from around the closing
fridge door. “So, I’m going to play some video game before dinner.”
I turned around and was three steps from the bottom stair and freedom when she said it.
“So I heard there’s a school dance coming up.” I winced. Actually ducked my shoulders. I was glad she
couldn’t see me around the corner.
 “Yeah? How’d you hear that?”
“The school newsletter came today.” Yes, people actually read them. About four. And of course my
mother was one of them.
“Yeah, dances are lame. I’d rather stay home with David and play some Nintendo.”
“You sure? There’s got to be someone you could ask.” Ah. There’s the rub. My mother: queen planner
and matchmaker. It was a combination so terrible to your average teenage that it seemed to linger in the
room like a perfume of social suicide.
“Yup, I’m sure. Thanks though.” I took an intentionally loud step on the first stair, letting her know I
was departing the conversation. No such luck.
“Well, why don’t you ask Crystal?” Her voice was so hopeful. Heavy with dreams of the future. I could
almost feel the vibrations of wedding planning racing through her brain.
Crystal was one of my best friends from elementary school. She was half –Japanese and totally
gorgeous. Her slightly almond eyes were a nice shade of jade; her brown hair was silky and fell in peaceful
waves to just below her shoulder blades. She was smart and had an honest, full laugh.
In grade seven, me, David (my best friend at the time), and Crystal had sat together at school. We
drove our teacher crazy with all our chatting and giggling and general off-taskedness. In junior high school,
that changed. Outside of the occasional, unintentional in-class encounter, I didn’t hang out with Crystal. She
was one of the “cool” kids. I certainly was not. I didn’t mind so much; I got along with pretty much everybody
except some of the really popular guys. I was never sure why; maybe they thought I was moving in on their
territory or something. Really, I was just a good listener.
The funny thing was, even though we didn’t hang out, I talked to Crystal on the phone a few times a
week. Sometimes for two or three hours. I don’t really remember what we talked about. A lot of unimportant
stuff. I knew a lot of gossip that I kept to myself. I’d honestly forgotten most of it by the time we’d hung up the
phone. I was just content to listen to the clear brook of her voice sooth my weary mind. We could talk about
anything.
But been seen in public together? At school? At a dance? Not. A. Chance.
“I don’t think that would work. Besides, I think someone else already asked her. Back down for
dinner!” I retreated to my room as quickly as my legs could carry me.
I turned on my small, almost black and white TV and let the loading screen of a game flicker at me from
across the room. I skipped around the menu, not really paying attention. I put on some music, not really
listening. I paced. I pet the cat. I brooded silently on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. It was a horrible idea.
And yet, a small candle of hope flickered to life in my gut.
“Matt! Dinner!”
 I trudged down the stairs and ate silently. My sister chatted away as usual, presenting us with the most
minute details of her day, which filled the otherwise quiet meal. Awkwardness punctuated by the occasional
flatulent discharge of a condiment bottle or clink of silverware.
After dinner, I had tae kwon do class. It was sparring night, which was perfect. I ducked, dodged,
punched, kicked, and sweated my way to a decision. Aside from the obvious reason of exertive exercise, I left
the dojo feeling quite a bit lighter. The candle had now spread its flame up the sides of chest and taken root a
little higher. I smiled to myself.
I practically floated from the car, up the stairs, to the shower, to my room, through my homework.
Okay, that was done. So, I paced. My gaze oscillated between the clock then the phone then the clock again.
Like a machine. Every five minutes. The boxy curve of my uncle’s old cordless phone was burned into my
retinas. The antenna sat waiting, taunting me with its metallic flint, begging to be extended so sweet signals
could be sent along the phone lines.
Then it rang.
“Hello!?” My voice was too loud, even to me. It might have even cracked.
“Is Matt there, please?”
“Hey, Crystal! How’s it going?” Calmer. Didn’t need to sound too excited.
“Good! Did you get your Socials done?”
And so on. I don’t remember what we talked about. The usual. Some gossip, some complaining, maybe
a little bit of TV chat. Suddenly it was midnight and definitely time to go to bed. I had to be up for the bus at
five forty-five. The conversation trailed off awkwardly.
“Alright,” Crystal broke the silence first. “Well, I’m going to bed. Talk to you later!” It was a death knell.
Now was my only chance.
“Hey…?” I paused. I was halfway between hyperventilation and or a major stroke.
“What’s up?”
My heart was hammering in my chest. That fire was no longer hopeful. It was a terrifying inferno of
eternal shame that threatened to consume my being, but it was too late to turn back. I felt a burning in my
throat. Just say it!
“Iwaswonderingifyouwantedtogotothedancewithme.”
Pause. Blink blink. Blink blink. Blink blink. I bit my lip; it hurt.
“Oh. Well. I’ll have to think about it.” Click.
There was something hollow in that dial tone. I’m pretty sure I listened to the steady dial tone beep
reminding me that it was time to hang up the phone for a good two minutes. The emptiness after the
connection between our phones ended was vast. Cheeks were burning. I was a jumble of emotion. There had
been something fairly final in that lack of response. The candle guttered out and I released the breath I didn’t
know I’d been holding, falling back onto my pillow, entirely deflated.
Crystal when to the dance with Daniel Suchecki. We didn’t really talk again until we had a couple
classes together in university. Oddly enough, we picked up as if we had been friends the whole time, though
neither of us mentioned that final conversation. I sometimes wondered if she ever thought about. It’s
probably better not to know.
Things with my parents changed. I definitely filtered the information I gave out to my parents, quickly
learning the exact amount of information I could give my mother to get her to stop asking; she knew if she
pushed further than that she’d get nothing the next time. It’s a little sad, actually. The relationship we have
with our parents often fundamentally changes when we become teenagers. They are often our loudest
cheerleaders and greatest support system, but on the other hand we also want to get as far away from them
as possible sometimes. The complex nature of the mini-society that is the social fabric of a high school too
often devours or permanently changes relationships we had before arriving.
Thankfully, I have a great relationship with my parents today. My mother is still a bit of a schemer and
I’m still a little cautious around what I talk about. But, I definitely let them offer advice (and even take it
sometimes!) and use them as a sounding board for important life changes.
You better believe, though, that my mother never asked about a single school dance ever again.

*** talking point – saw Daniel in the paper in the fall of 2016; he was arrested on charges of drug trafficking.
Take that Daniel Suchecki.