On Growing Up -Part Two (Continued.)
On Christmas Day, I went over to Merry's house to take her her gift. The streets were slick and sloppy, because for several days the weather had been the same - winter rain, sleet, a trace of snow; then the trace would melt overnight and the sleet would freeze; then the cycle would begin again.
Mama was going to cook Christmas dinner and she wanted my help. She'd already forbidden me to walk to Merry's house, due to the streets, and how many drunken revelers would be behind the wheel of their cars? Although Merry lived in the general neighborhood, she lived too far away to walk to except in decent weather. Mama was already mad at me for spending all the time I had at the hospital when Merry was sick, and I suppose this was a method of punishing me by demanded I help in the kitchen,
"I'll just take my bike, then," I decided.
"You will not!" Mama retorted. Her French accent was getting stronger in her voice, a sign she was getting really, really angry. "Didn't I tell you I don't want you on the street? Too many drunken people and the streets are nearly impassible as it is - "
"Can't Annie help? I won't stay long, Mama, I promise - "
"That's not FAIR!" screamed Andrea, from somewhere in the living room, where she had her presents spread out in a general disarray. "It's CHRISTMAS!"
I temporarily left Mama to confront my sister, who was still in her pajamas and on the floor, with her new Barbie doll in her lap. "You're a big girl now. You're almost seven. Mama had me working in the kitchen at seven - "
"So what? You're the OLDEST - you're always SAYING that - "
"Marianne Susanne, what do you think you're doing?" Mama shouted from the hot kitchen. "You are NOT the mother. You are NOT to scold your sister like that and exact discipline - "
Andrea smiled smugly up at me and stuck out her tongue. "Mari-anne got YELLED at!" she taunted, too low to be heard by Mama, who was banging pans around and muttering in French. Although we all spoke English, any time Mama got mad and flew into French, we understood every word.
Then - salvation. Papa came from around the corner, pulling up his gauntlets. "What's going on here? What's the trouble,Mari?"
I stood with the gift in my hands, trembling. I respected both my parents, but Papa was cross because we were arguing again. We were far from the little ladies at all times Papa had wished for. Even Stephanie was more the tomboy than girly-girl. "Mama won't let me take Merry's gift over to her, Papa. She won't let me walk over and - "
Papa frowned. The dark olive face - like mine - wrinkled briefly in anger, then smoothed out. "I'll run you over. You'll only be a minute. Get your coat." As I went to the coat closet, I heard him call from the hallway, "Stephanie - I'm taking Mari over to Merry's We'll be right - "
Mama screamed a curse in French and flung a pan. I didn't see her throw it, but I heard it clang against a lower cabinet door.
Papa turned to my sister. "Andrea - put that doll down and go get dressed. It's after ten o'clock already. I want to see you out of those p.j.'s when I get back."
"Yes, Papa." Andrea was instantly obedient. She dropped the Barbie on the floor and scrambled up the stairs.
"And help your mother!" Papa called after her. He turned to me - "Let's go, Mari."
I followed him out the door.
(To be continued.)
