you
can’t tell what he’s saying.
I
am lying on my back and trying to imagine where I am. My room of course. My fan
is on and pulling in hot air and the knife man’s voice.
Oh
my eyes are stuck shut. I try to get them open, then I rub them with my good
hand and pick at the bucket of sand and remember one name only—Easy cause I’ve
been dreaming about him too. And then everything comes rushing and Granma opens
my door and says, “Lord a mercy it’s ten o’clock! Are you sick?”
I groan all right, but
not because I’m sick, because I’m not ready to come out of my dreams and face
Granma.
She’s
rushing around and raises the shade over my fan, and the other and all the
sunshine comes streaming in on me…and my lies.
“Hey
Granma,” I say all dry and raspy.
She
comes to feel me for fever and she says, “What in this world?” Then she pulls
the covers and looks at me the way a nun might look if you missed every word in
your spelling. I suppose God is looking at me that way too about now.
“Your
face is filthy and look at your nightgown and you didn’t braid your hair before
you went to bed and it’s as wild as a bird’s nest.”
She
continues to peel back the covers and there are my filthy legs and feet.
“Georgia Christine how in the world did this happen?”
I
can hear that scary sound the organ makes when we go to the movies on Sunday
and Stan Kahn rises up out of the floor playing his organ at halftime.
I
start to cry.
But
then I remember the kittens and I gasp pretty loudly and get up really quickly
and say, “Excuse me Granma,” and I get around her and before I go pee-pee even
she’s calling my name, “Georgia Christine,” but I’m running downstairs and I
don’t even stop.
Darnay
Road 13
Well
I don’t let grass grow under my feet before I’m pretty well out the door and
around that side of the porch and there they are mewing and wrestling around
under there and I can barely catch my breath.
One
of them has his paws on the trellis and he’s stretched out showing me his soft
kitty belly. “Hey there,” I say as I quickly count four. I hear Granma come out
on the porch cause she wears the same black shoes as the wicked witch in The
Wizard of Oz and they clack so loudly I can always stop any wrong thing I’m
doing before she ever gets in the room. But I usually end up telling on myself
cause I can’t bear to keep the truth from her. And I eye Easy’s shirt under
there then and I need to get it and wash it or something cause he probably
needs it from what I’ve seen.
“Tell
me I do not hear cats under there,” she says looking over the banister. She’s
wearing her flowered apron with the pink rick-rack trim I love over her black
and white housedress with the flowers and birds and she looks tall as Jesus
might upon his return when he separates the Catholics from the heathens and
lets us good ones into heaven.
“Yes
ma’am you do hear cats but they are kittens and I need to keep them please
please please. They don’t have a mother.” I pull the trellis and get that one
and he’s so cute, so soft and warm and I rub my cheek on him and look up at
her.
I
don’t know why her hand goes over her mouth like that. Then she pulls her hand
away and bunches them in her apron. “Oh you sweet thing,” she says to me.
Then
I remember I am an orphan, well almost Abigail May says Aunt May says.
I
do not know what to say now. It’s not Granma’s fault. I told her that before,
but she says my daddy loves me, he sends the check every month and if that’s
not proof she doesn’t know what is. So I can’t be an orphan, can I?
“I see what happened
now,” Granma says. “You been crawling around under there hiding those kittens
from me.”
I
open my mouth, but this story is telling itself so I think I might wait a
minute.
“You
think I wouldn’t find out?”
“Um,”
I close my eyes for a minute cause I been of two minds on it—telling
can’t tell what he’s saying.
I
am lying on my back and trying to imagine where I am. My room of course. My fan
is on and pulling in hot air and the knife man’s voice.
Oh
my eyes are stuck shut. I try to get them open, then I rub them with my good
hand and pick at the bucket of sand and remember one name only—Easy cause I’ve
been dreaming about him too. And then everything comes rushing and Granma opens
my door and says, “Lord a mercy it’s ten o’clock! Are you sick?”
I groan all right, but
not because I’m sick, because I’m not ready to come out of my dreams and face
Granma.
She’s
rushing around and raises the shade over my fan, and the other and all the
sunshine comes streaming in on me…and my lies.
“Hey
Granma,” I say all dry and raspy.
She
comes to feel me for fever and she says, “What in this world?” Then she pulls
the covers and looks at me the way a nun might look if you missed every word in
your spelling. I suppose God is looking at me that way too about now.
“Your
face is filthy and look at your nightgown and you didn’t braid your hair before
you went to bed and it’s as wild as a bird’s nest.”
She
continues to peel back the covers and there are my filthy legs and feet.
“Georgia Christine how in the world did this happen?”
I
can hear that scary sound the organ makes when we go to the movies on Sunday
and Stan Kahn rises up out of the floor playing his organ at halftime.
I
start to cry.
But
then I remember the kittens and I gasp pretty loudly and get up really quickly
and say, “Excuse me Granma,” and I get around her and before I go pee-pee even
she’s calling my name, “Georgia Christine,” but I’m running downstairs and I
don’t even stop.
Darnay
Road 13
Well
I don’t let grass grow under my feet before I’m pretty well out the door and
around that side of the porch and there they are mewing and wrestling around
under there and I can barely catch my breath.
One
of them has his paws on the trellis and he’s stretched out showing me his soft
kitty belly. “Hey there,” I say as I quickly count four. I hear Granma come out
on the porch cause she wears the same black shoes as the wicked witch in The
Wizard of Oz and they clack so loudly I can always stop any wrong thing I’m
doing before she ever gets in the room. But I usually end up telling on myself
cause I can’t bear to keep the truth from her. And I eye Easy’s shirt under
there then and I need to get it and wash it or something cause he probably
needs it from what I’ve seen.
“Tell
me I do not hear cats under there,” she says looking over the banister. She’s
wearing her flowered apron with the pink rick-rack trim I love over her black
and white housedress with the flowers and birds and she looks tall as Jesus
might upon his return when he separates the Catholics from the heathens and
lets us good ones into heaven.
“Yes
ma’am you do hear cats but they are kittens and I need to keep them please
please please. They don’t have a mother.” I pull the trellis and get that one
and he’s so cute, so soft and warm and I rub my cheek on him and look up at
her.
I
don’t know why her hand goes over her mouth like that. Then she pulls her hand
away and bunches them in her apron. “Oh you sweet thing,” she says to me.
Then
I remember I am an orphan, well almost Abigail May says Aunt May says.
I
do not know what to say now. It’s not Granma’s fault. I told her that before,
but she says my daddy loves me, he sends the check every month and if that’s
not proof she doesn’t know what is. So I can’t be an orphan, can I?
“I see what happened
now,” Granma says. “You been crawling around under there hiding those kittens
from me.”
I
open my mouth, but this story is telling itself so I think I might wait a
minute.
“You
think I wouldn’t find out?”
“Um,”
I close my eyes for a minute cause I been of two minds on it—telling
Similar Books
