Maybe Someday

by Ede Clarke

  “In the summertime we have time, though, right?” He pulled his collar up higher across the back of his neck and dipped his chin a bit lower to get some cover.

  “You do, dear, but I don’t get a summer vacation. Maybe someday. We’ll see.” The wind swept us down the lane and helped us turn left onto Main where it was nowhere to be felt.

  “Morning you two,” smiled Toura from behind one of the cases.

  “Let me grab that paper from my locker and then you’ll be off. Right back,” I told Hector.

  “Mornin’, Greg,” I slipped in as I stepped into the back room.

  “Is that your boy I heard?” Greg asked.

  “He’ll be gone soon,” I told him, heading towards my locker.

  “No worries. Let me chat him up a bit. Alright?” he said while already half through the swing door.

  When I came back with the note I just caught the end of their talk.

  “Well, where do you want to go?” asked Greg.

  “Wherever there is time,” Hector replied as serious as if he was talking about the current tally of who is ahead in the recent Monopoly tournament.

  “Right. Well . . . ”

  “Thanks for keeping him company, Greg, but it’s time he should get to school. Isn’t that right?” I said while smiling an I’m-embarrassed-because-I’m-a-bad-parent smile.

  “Yep. See you tonight,” Hector said while shoving the signed note into his front pants’ pocket.

  “Love you.”

  “Love you, too.”

  I paused at the front window after the door closed behind Hector. I watched his hood lightly bounce between his shoulder blades as he got smaller and smaller down Main Street. What a happy bounce. The bounce of a child. There’s still life there. Still hope and endless expectation.

  I turned and approached Greg. “Do you think I could leave 30 minutes early tomorrow afternoon? I would like to go to the park and talk with Marie. But, I still need time to get the kids and everything. How about if I just have a really short lunch break?”

  “That wouldn’t matter. It would be fine to leave early and take your usual lunch break. However, tomorrow Marie actually is planning on coming to the shop at 3 for an all-hands meeting anyway. Saves you a trip. Want me to ask if she can come early so you two can chat?”

  “No, No. That’s fine, Greg. Thanks for offering. It can wait until another day. What’s the meeting about? Everything alright?”

  “Everything is fine. Just want to go over the procedural changes I’ve put in place. With all of us together, we can talk about how it’s working—what needs to go back to the old way, what we like, you know. Saves time to have that talk with everyone in the same room.”

  “For sure. Sounds good. Thanks.”

  “They make fun of her sometimes, sometimes when she can’t help it,” said Hector as I whirled around the kitchen desperately aware that I needed more than the time allotted to me that evening.

  “I don’t understand what that has to do with you wanting to go on vacation somewhere outside of Kenfield. Honey, please pass me that bowl of eggs . . . Thanks.”

  “If we could get away, then Clara would see, she could see that it doesn’t matter what those kids think. There’s a whole world out there, not just those kids.”

  “I see . . . Well, with that thinking I suppose it would also be true then that all of you would be able to see a bigger slice of life, huh? So, maybe if some things were not so great with Beth or Lizzie, or even you, then it might be nice to have a break and look at life from a different perspective. Is that what you think, Hector? Do you need a break, honey? Is there something you want to get away from?”

  “No. I’m fine. I mean Geography is really hard this year and everything, and Dave is still really after me during P.E., but I can take it. It’s just that this year Clara and I share some of the same halls, so I see it, you know? Before that we didn’t change classrooms as much so I didn’t know. But now we’re both in middle school and I see her all day long and so . . . so, I just see it. That’s all.”

  “Okay, honey. Thanks for telling me and thanks for looking after your little sister. Now please give everyone the 5 minute warning and make sure they wash up.”

  “Okay.”

  “Thanks for everyone being here this afternoon. Prep folks, I know this makes for a long day, so thank you.” Marie cheered with eyebrows raised and several swigs of coffee. “We’ll make this as brief as we can, I’m hoping 15-25 minutes if there’s not a whole lot of chit-chat. Three main things to discuss: First, new stream-lined processes and procedures. Second, summer schedules. And third, summer vacation schedules. Greg, you’re up with number one.”

  “Thanks, Marie. Okay, folks. First, thank you so much for my first 6-weeks at Marie’s. It’s been great and only getting better. Let’s go over the changes that have been implemented and see what we like that’s working and what we think should go. Take one of these sheets and pass it around. Shouldn’t take too long with just the 7 of us,” Greg said with a smile, but then stifled it and seemed to catch himself in regret and shot a quick tentative glance toward Marie, who didn’t take her eyes off the sheet in front of her. “At first look, anything on the list of new processes and procedures that someone thinks should go?” If Marie was annoyed at Greg’s jab at the size of the bakery, although an inadvertent jab, a jab, this would be the moment we would know. And . . . silence. Okay, didn’t bother her.

  “The pies being in the window 30 minutes earlier in the morning puts a slight stress on morning prep. So, is it seen as necessary?” Constania, one of our two prep folks, broke the silence. “If it is helping business, we don’t mind. But if there is no real return, then we would prefer to get that time back.”

  “Right,” first response from Greg is always affirming. Must be his nature. Then he thinks for a minute. “I really don’t know yet. I don’t know if 5 weeks is enough time to know. Can you wait another 3 weeks and then I can really look at the morning numbers and tell you?”

  “Of course,” offered Constania.

  “Also,” I added, “we could poll people who come in in the mornings. You know, we could ask them a few questions and see what they say. Unless,” I said, turning to Greg, “you think the numbers are enough info to make the decision?”

  “I think the poll would be great. Thank you. Also, I think it would be faster. Tell you what. Let’s do the poll and in 2 weeks I’ll let you know if the 30 minutes is doing anything significant.”

  Everyone nodded and affirmed the decision.

  “What else . . . ” Greg began but was interrupted.

  “I think the poll and taking the time to analyze the numbers are a waste of time.”

  Okay, so maybe I was wrong that Marie was not annoyed.

  She continued, “In theory there is nothing wrong with that plan, but in the big picture it’s not the best use of either of your time. We will stick with the earlier pie shelving. Next.”

  She could have at least spared us the 7 minute conversation if she was going to decide to stick with what we’ve been doing. But, there you go.

  So we continued for another ten minutes and decided to keep most of the new things Greg had brought to Marie’s. Of course the best things he had brought were not on the list. More than once Toura and I had discussed, albeit briefly, the consistent atmosphere of fair play and consideration. You can’t really call it a process or procedure, but is sure makes things run smoother. Kenny is a friend and was an excellent manager, but, he did it without the fuss that Greg disperses so effortlessly.

  “Second,” rang Marie, this time without standing, possibly taking that queue from Greg, “Summer schedules.” A sense of relief was felt throughout the room. The real meeting was over and the next two discussion points were afterthoughts . . . or so I thought. “We’ll go with the usual summer hours. If anyone has a new shift need, please let Greg know and we’ll make it work as best as we can.”

  Okay, no surprises there.

  But,
then . . .

  “Third, summer vacation schedules. Go ahead Greg.”

  I looked at my watch at this point, thinking I really need to get going and that the 25-minute outside time goal was completely shot, and that I would have to split my errands into two days now, and which one would be better during my lunch break tomorrow, maybe the fabric, but no I need that today so I can start sewing the costume tonight . . .

  “I understand in the past everyone has requested their vacation and there haven’t been any problems. It is also my understanding that several of you never take a vacation, but instead opt rather for the pay at the end of the year. That is going to stop this year.”

  Maybe the meeting is still in need of my attention.

  Looking in mine and Toura’s direction, Greg began again with a soft, yet stern smile on his face. “Both of you are taking vacations this year. Toura, you are taking one in the fall because I know this would work best with your husband’s work schedule at the orchard. Let me know if my assumption is wrong and we’ll rethink the timing.” Then looking at me, the most surprising words sang out like a line of poetry that lifts into the air and never comes down—mostly because it isn’t real. “You will be taking a summer vacation with all 5 of your children outside of Kenfield. Unless you have another plan, of course.” Expectantly looking at me for a retort, where there was nothing but I’m sure a completely shocked look and possible drooling from my slightly-opened mouth, he continued, “This vacation will be at my father-in-law’s lake house in Angola on Lake Erie for fourteen days. Me and Cindy don’t want to go this year since we think it’s better for the kids to stay in Kenfield for their first summer, to continue to build friendships with the kids here and everything. You’ll have to get there and feed everyone, but the lake and house are all yours. Don’t say anything now; we’ll talk details more later.” Then taking the time to look around the circle of faces and at everyone for a few seconds in the eye Greg closed with, “Please understand vacation is now expected and necessary. We are a family here, but we need a break from our family once in a while.”

  Thankful that I was sincerely terribly late, I used that as an excuse to not talk details then with Greg. He quickly shot back the piercingly knowing, “Plus it’ll give you time to get used to the idea before we talk. That would probably be better.”

  Who does he think he is? He barely knows me, us. He cannot tell me I need a vacation by a lake with The Five more than I need that extra pay. He cannot tell me I need time to think about this before I talk to him about it. He is overly confident in his perceived ability at being a superhero who can see through words and body language into the exact meaning of what a person is trying not to say. “Yes. How generous of you to give me that time, Greg. Tomorrow then?”

  “If we have time. Or next week then.” We both nodded and I was off.

  Absolutely beside myself and my head spinning with the logistics and fantasizing through different conversations with the kids, with Greg, with Marie, with anyone who could possibly help me in getting that pay back or getting my kids to a lake and then hiring three people to come along to make sure none of them drowned, and then suddenly I found myself back at the house so I shut it all down as I stepped through the door. “Anyone hungry. Anyone want a hug?” They came running and I found my breath again. Turns out I was the one who wanted a hug. “Oh, thank you my Lizzie, thank you,” I squeezed back.

  I read it three times to make sure I didn’t miss anything. No I didn’t miss anything. Then I interrupted Clara and tore her from her homework, as we sat in the living room together. “Says here you haven’t been able to get through one P.E. class in almost two weeks. Is that right?”

  “Yes. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but I didn’t think it was that big of a deal. They think it is though.”

  “Well, Clara, sometimes the things we know and live with for a long time and are comfortable with are new to other people. So we have to wait for them, or even help them, to become comfortable, to catch up. I’ll do that for you with some of the folks at school. I’ll go in and talk with them again. I just need to know what you want. Do you want to keep going to P.E., or do you want me to see if we can get you into something else for that period?”

  Long pause. Nervous shifting. Legs swinging—ankles crossing, ankles uncrossing.

  I grabbed her left shoulder and shifted her right up against me until her right hip and shoulder were flush on me. I said nothing and waited a bit longer. They say the smarter ones are either strongly careless or strongly careful with their words. She has always been the latter of the two possibilities. “May I gently remind you, Clara, that your feelings can’t be wrong. Whatever you are feeling is okay. Saying it out loud doesn’t make it worse either, it just makes it more real. Which is a good thing, not a bad thing. Bringing something into the clearing, into the light helps us see it more clearly and it usually loses some of its power, too.”

  More silence.

  Finally, “It isn’t my feelings that I didn’t want to tell you, it’s my thoughts that I didn’t want to tell you. I’m angry, but I’m not sure if I should be. Is it okay for me to be angry with the kids who make fun of me at P.E.?”

  “No matter about should you be! You are. That is a fact. Now let’s deal with it.”

  “If they didn’t make fun of me, I’d like to go every day and try my hardest and do what I can for as long as I can. But, it’s not so much fun when they make fun while I’m trying. So, I guess I pick having a different class that period.”

  “I see. I’m sorry that they make fun of you. We can’t make them stop, as much as me and the teachers have tried. So, I think your decision is a good one.”

  She looked up for the first time during the conversation and the tears came rolling down, suddenly and without her crying, just tear after tear not seeming to be connected to emotion. I kept wiping them away. She kept wiping them away. They kept coming. I smiled at her. She smiled back. When they stopped falling, I took her hand and we just sat there for a moment while I gently massaged her knuckles, knowing it felt good on her aching joints. “You liked that drawing class last summer. What if I can get you a period of art?”

  “Okay. But that would put me with the older kids I think.”

  “Once again, you are with the older crowd, my dear. You all tend to get along better anyway, so that is just another good thing about this decision, huh?”

  “Yeah. I guess so.”

  Mature beyond her years. Possibly born out of a life more of observation than participation. Or possibly born out of necessity while constantly finding her companions to be years older, since they are more sedentary. Her illness would be enough to pity her if she wasn’t so incredibly astute in other areas.

  Still not ready to talk to Greg, I tried not to be alone with him in the back. It seemed to work or I was let off the hook as a result of our normal busyness of Fridays. Greg, Toura, and I are always slammed on Fridays, getting ready for not being there on the weekend. I’m grateful Marie never forced that on me, and even more amazed that she takes on the longer shifts herself on both Saturday and Sunday. Now I don’t much see it as amazing, but before her husband was gone I did and always wondered if it was sacrificial or a result of trouble at home, not wanting to be there. Even after the divorce it’s unclear to me since it seems he left her by surprise and she was completely blind-sided. “For the next three weeks I won’t be in Wednesday through Friday. Doug is leaving me, so I need time to sort things out and grieve in private. I had no idea we had trouble and he has given no clear reason for the split, but is resolute. Please don’t bring this up unless I do. Thanks.” She announced this during our regular mid-morning meeting one April day. I remember it was raining that day and I thought how sad that the weather was even bringing her down. I wondered if she noticed and thought likely not.

  “Hi, Marie. Am I catching you during a lull, or should I let you go?” I rang her on Saturday, mid-morning.

  “Pretty calm at the moment. Good t
iming. Everything alright?”

  “Oh yes. Quite. Thanks. Um. It was my intention to find you last Thursday in the park for a chat, but that obviously didn’t happen. So, I am calling today to see if we can schedule a talk in the next week or so. Nothing urgent.”

  “Of course. Now that you mention it, Greg said something about this earlier in the week. Sorry I didn’t approach you first. Anyway, of course. Let’s not wait until Thursday. How about coming in today and I’ll slip in the back for a few minutes with you. Bring the kids and they can have some cookies.”

  “That sounds great, actually. This afternoon would work best. I’ll drop off two at a birthday party and I’ll be in with the other three. Say around 3:30?”

  “Sounds fine.”

  “Thanks, Marie.”

  “Okay. Bye.”

  “Three years and . . . well . . . I was amazed I didn’t know about Kenny before he was gone,” I rehearsed to myself as I scrambled in the closet for the birthday wrapping paper that I just knew was in there not too long ago. No, that isn’t the way to go at it. I thought better of it. “Marie, I was hoping to talk to you about maybe in the future you letting me know about decisions before they are announced.” Oh please! This is ridiculous. I sound like a hurt teenager. What is my problem with this? Why must I talk to her about this? Why did I make this appointment? I can call and cancel! No, I can’t. Why do I corner myself like this? “My feelings were hurt when I heard Kenny was leaving. I had no idea and that seems strange to me because I’ve worked with you for three years. I would have thought I would have known something.” Not too bad. It’s honest. But, why do I care? Why were my feelings hurt? She’ll ask or wonder. I know she will! And then I’ll have to wiggle and dodge and slink from her questions. I’ll just make up another reason for wanting to meet. I can talk about the forced vacation! No. That isn’t right since I haven’t talked to Greg yet. Why, why did I call her? “Here it is, Beth,” I yelled from the base of the closet as I pushed off my knees to stand upright again. “Should be enough for both presents,” I thought.