On Growing Up - Part Two (Continued.)
It was a short ride to Merry's house in nice weather, but as I looked out the window on our way there and saw many people slip. slide, and some even falling, I was glad to be in a wheeled vehicle.
Papa seemed to watching the roads, but the first time he saw a lady fall on her bottom, he stopped the car without an explanation to me, popped open his door,and made his way to her. He helped her up from the frozen slush on the sidewalk, brushed off her coat, and said something to her. She nodded and went on her way. He got back into the car and resumed our drive. He didn't offer me any explanation and I didn't ask for one, but I was proud that he was such a French gentleman even in bitter winter weather.
On the way, we saw several other people slip and fall. Papa stopped to help each one, despite the bitter, now windy, biting cold. The sidewalks were emptying of people now, reluctant, I supposed, to fight the incoming sleet and snow storm. Several ducked into the nearby Catholic church - to wairt out the storm, I presumed - and I was thankful we had gone last night, Christmas Eve, in ahead of the weather.
I began to reproach myself for being such an impatient child. Mama was going to have another baby and she was hoping that this one would be a boy, against three girls. Papa didn't care, he said - boy or girl, both were welcome in his heart - but Mama was desperately wishing for a son, who she planned to name after Papa - and she had started an argument with him by declaring firmly, two nights ago when they were setting up the tree, that this was her last child because she didn't want to be in the PTA until she was 50. He took that to mean she was remarking on his age, and it started a bitter war which was not quite resolved between them. And at CHRISTMAS!
"We're hiere, Mari," Papa parked the car. "Do you want to visit a while and I'll come back in a little while and get you?"
I hesitated with my door open. I was not too comfortable around Merry's father. I didn't knopw him that well and the few times before Merry's illness when Mama had permitted me to visit, he had not been there. Now they had reconciled, and he was living with them now. He was quite tall and thin, and looked out of place in the small house.
"I'll just be a minute,Papa," I promised. "Storm's getting worse."
He nodded and turned up the heat as I battled my own slippery way to the porch and rang the bell.
(To Be Continued.)
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