2004-06-28 - 1:59 a.m.
A Pretty Little Rag Doll
My mom gets my sister and me up on Saturday morning. We take a bath and struggle our wet squirmy little bodies into our swimsuits. They're terribly hard to get on but we don't care. It takes time to dry off... that's time we can't waste. We know that if we take too long, we'll have to wait for an extra 30 minutes for the next bus. So we stuff our bath towels into the beach bag instead of using them on ourselves. We rush to get the stroller all set up while my mom gets my baby brother ready.. He's almost a year old...I'm almost 6 and Jessica is 7..
We walk 2 blocks to the corner outside Bobby's Bar... A gigantic black man comes out and smiles at my mom. She smiles back. I'm a little nervous at first because I've never seen someone that big before but she says, "It's ok. He's the bartender." He gives us lollies. Cherry for me and grape for my sister. A.J. doesn't get one because he's still a baby and my mom worries about his throat for some reason. So we stand there a few minutes longer, waiting for the bus.
I'm busy, deep in thought.. Or as deep as a 5 year-old can get anyway...I think he has a little crush on my mom.. She's this fiercely proud blonde woman.. She had the misfortune to marry a horrible cad, who was my dad, and then he split when I was a baby and left her to raise us alone. Now she was remarried to my brother's father.. I love Al. I got to drop flower petals at their wedding. He's nice to me. He laughs at my vampire impersonation. He works at a grocery store and give me cookies. Like his Christmas mug says he's the "#1 Dad".
My mom hands each of us a dime. This is the best part. I see her face bending down toward me, the sun behind her, lighting her hair up like a halo. She says, "Hold on tight to it because I don't have any more." I grip it with all my might.
It takes us forever to get downtown. We ride past Tiah Arrington's grandma's house. I think she lives there full-time now. We heard her grandfather saying something about "a bannoning" her. I don't know what that means and we can't find it in the dictionary so we just keep on playing Barbies like it was never said.
We ride past the poles that I like to swing between when we have to walk instead of taking the bus. I guessed my mom must have dropped all her dimes on those days.
We ride past the pinball machine shop and Little Anthony's Pizza Shop, who stopped delivering in my area when I was 15 because the neighborhood had gotten too rough.
Past the liquor stores on State street and the street walkers and the men carrying their Boom boxes on their shoulders. The little boys smoking in the alley and their mothers on their front porches drinking sun-brewed tea.
Until, finally, it's my sister's turn to pull the bell cord. We were at the park. I don't know if it was an official decree back then, but the fountain was off-limits to swimmers and waders when I got older. When homeless people started bathing in it, they tore down the walls so that the water wouldn't collect. When the homeless started showering there, they turned off the water all together. But that summer, it was sparkling blue. They used to net all the bugs and leaves out every morning. Nothing says 'Pride' like having a beautiful parks & recreation area.
I learned how to swim that day.. well maybe not swim but it was shallow enough that I could put my legs straight out behind me and use my hands to propel me through the water. I learned how to float there also.. I learned not to be afraid of the water.
When all of the water fun was done, my mom and sister would hold the towel around me while I changed back into my clothes. Then my mom and I would do the same for my sister...
My mom says she wants to take us somewhere. Instead of taking the bus back home like we usually did, that day we walk a few blocks. We get to the place she wants to take us. It has a red and green striped awning. The sign says "Woolworths." I have to read it to my sister because even though she's almost 2 years older, I'm the better reader.
We go in and my mom says, "Choose any toy that you want, but only one."
I'm mad with JOY.. I'm not sure what to pick. My sister has her heart set on a My Little Pony. It's purple with a pink tail and mane and little purple seashells on it's hind quarters.
I'm still trying to decide which pony when I see her. A beautiful rag doll with purple braids and a purple and white gingham dress. She has blue eyes like my sister and is almost as large as me. This is my toy for sure.
As I absorb her weight into my little arms, my mom takes us over to a
long white counter near the cash registers. We climb up on the high stools. They're red and flecked with some shiny stuff that you can't feel on the vinyl but you can see.
My mom shares her menu with my sister and I. I hold the right side and my sister holds the left. My mom is holding my brother. One big happy family. I wish Al were here. I could sit on his lap.
I order a grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup. My sister gets macaroni and cheese. My mom feeds my brother under her shirt while she orders a cheeseburger with onion rings. She's been looking a little thin and tired lately but it's nice to see her appetite has come back. We share a vanilla milk shake, 3 straws sticking out of the big glass cup.
This has been the best day of my life. I can't wait to get home to show Al my doll. I fall asleep on the bus though. I lay on the seat on my doll and my mom sits behind us with my sister, one hand on her, and one on the stroller.
She wakes me up as we get to our stop. Pulling the bell cord, she shuffles my hair with her other hand. I'm so groggy still as I walk home. I don't notice that anything is different at home yet.
As I'm walking into the livingroom, I notice that Al's old chair is gone. I'm thankful. It still smells like our little dog, Buddy. He's a cute little Pomeranian that got lost a few months ago. I don't like to sit in that chair and think about Buddy. Now I won't have to.
I run through the house yelling for Al. His shift should be done by now and he should be home. I want to show him my doll. Not in the bathroom or kitchen, not in the basement workroom or in the garage. In fact, there's nothing in the garage now.
I go into my mom's room, hoping he's there. He's not but the closet door has been left open. My mom's dresses still hang there, her shoes neatly lined up on the floor. Her beautiful winter coat, the one with the fur trim on the collar and cuffs is laying unceremoniously on the floor where Al's penny loafers and tennis shoes should be. His suits and clip-on ties are gone.
I go to the bathroom. His cologne and toothbrush is gone, as is the electric razor and "#1 Dad" mug.
I sat on the bathroom floor and cried that day. I don't know when I stopped or even if I ever did. I just know that the only thought I had when I went to bed that night was that I never got my turn to pull the bell cord on the bus.
