by Tamara Bundy
All at once I couldn’t take a deep breath. It was like an elephant was sitting on my chest—a big old elephant named Rainbow. And that elephant would only move if Daddy came back.
I was counting on my collection of stuff to help with that. But then it hit me—maybe my collection was also to remind me of him.
Was I was forgetting Daddy?
Daddy’s laugh? I couldn’t hear it anymore.
Daddy’s face? Blurry.
I knew I had to get him to come back as soon as possible.
I reached in the pocket of my shorts and pulled out another one of Daddy’s letter-poems. I read it a couple of times, not liking at all where it meant I had to go.
But I knew I didn’t have a choice.
chapter 17
I waved my arms in the air to get Eddie’s attention as I yelled to Pam, “I have to go to the cemetery!”
“What?!” Pam yelled back.
“The cemetery! I need to go there now!”
Pam walked over to me. “Did ya say y’all want to go to the cemetery? Now? Why y’all want to go there?”
“It’s another letter. There’s a bench in the cemetery where Daddy sat with Mama and they had their first kiss. I need to go find it and bring back something from there to show to Daddy to remind him.”
“What’s your hurry?” Pam asked.
I didn’t want to tell Pam that I couldn’t picture Daddy anymore. Couldn’t bring myself to say out loud I was forgetting him.
My heart was beating louder as I climbed down from the bleachers. Still, I heard Pam’s voice loud and clear. “Don’t ya think your daddy would come if he wanted to?”
I walked over to her, my face feeling hotter with every word. How could she say that? Her daddy’s home all the time. What does she know about how it feels to forget your own daddy? “You can’t understand! This will work! My daddy just needs to be reminded how he used to feel and it has to be soon!”
By now, Eddie was waiting for me to interpret what we were saying but I couldn’t stop long enough to sign.
I turned and started running to the cemetery like my life depended upon it.
When I got to the big iron gate, I stopped dead in my tracks.
I was so mad I hadn’t figured out what it would take to really go into the cemetery by myself. I looked around the gate. Maybe there was a bench outside the cemetery that could be their bench.
But no such luck.
I had to go in and get to that bench.
My heart was beating so fast I was getting dizzy.
I wished Miss Millie was here. I remembered how easy she walked in that gate and all the way to the back of the cemetery to see her Clayton.
I put one foot in front of the other and went inside the gate.
Then I heard something.
It was a crunching noise. Something was moving.
And it was getting closer to me.
Right then a shadow fell over me and I screamed.
“What ya screamin’ for?” a bicycle rider asked me.
But it wasn’t just any rider. It was one of those McHale brothers. The younger one.
“I wasn’t screaming,” I answered.
“Well, it sure enough sounded like a scream. Ain’t y’all never seen a bike in a cemetery before?” he said, and started laughing.
“I’m not talking to you.” I continued walking deeper into the cemetery.
“Well. I was talkin’ to you. Y’all don’t gotta be so mean.”
I couldn’t believe that! One of the McHale brothers telling me not to be mean!
But before I could muster up a comeback, Eddie and Pam came running up the cemetery path. “What ya doing here, Pam?” the McHale boy asked.
“Me and Eddie was chasing Alice—but she’s really fast. Eddie couldn’t drive that fast. What you doing here?”
“Just riding my bike.” He looked back at me like he wanted to say something, but instead he just shook his head.
He turned back to Pam and mumbled, “Don’t be late coming home. Dad was in one of his moods when I left the house—so don’t make him madder by being late. Again.”
With that, he jumped on his bike and left.
“Dad?” I said, and turned to Pam.
“Yes.” Pam spoke slowly, assuming Eddie could read her lips. “THAT IS MY BROTHER.” Eddie nodded like that made all the sense in the world.
“So if he’s your brother, that would make you a . . . McHale?”
“Yep. Pamela Lyn McHale, at your service.” With her last words, she bowed.
“But . . . but . . .” I didn’t know exactly how to ask this in a polite way. “Isn’t everyone in your family mean?”
Okay. Maybe there wasn’t a bit of politeness in that question. But still, I wondered.
Pam kind of laughed, but it wasn’t the happy giggle I’d grown used to. “No, silly! Now, my—my daddy gets really . . . mad sometimes . . . and he can be kinda mean. Mama says he’s under a lot of pressure looking for a job. And my oldest brother—he tries to be like Daddy. But my other brother—that one there who just left . . . he’s nice. Real nice.”
I remembered Miss Millie telling me about the McHales’ daddy not wanting black people in his neighborhood. So I had to agree with Pam that her daddy could be mean—but I wasn’t ready to agree with her about even one of her brothers being nice—but just as I opened my mouth to say so, I saw it.
It was a bench. Nestled under a big oak tree in the middle of the cemetery. It had to be Mama and Daddy’s bench.
I walked over to it and ran my fingers over the roughness of the wrought-iron bench where Mama and Daddy had their first kiss. I sat down and pulled out the other letter in my pocket and read it out loud.
“A cemetery’s bench
was never meant for this.
But under that old oak tree
we shared our first kiss.”
Eddie read over my shoulder and then put his finger next to his nose, with a twisting motion—the sign for boring—before picking up his plate and driving it around the paths. Pam sat next to me and smiled at the words. “That’s one of my favorite poems. Does your daddy still write poems?”
I had no idea what Daddy did anymore, but I didn’t need to admit that, so I just told Pam, “Sure. He’s real good at lots of things.”
I would’ve liked to tell Pam all the things Daddy was good at—helping me with my math homework, teaching Eddie to tie his shoes, or me to play checkers or tell jokes. But the truth was, Daddy hadn’t helped us or played with us in longer than I could remember. Last Christmas he stopped by to tell Eddie and me he’d bring us our presents later. But he never did. Even before Daddy left our house over a year ago, he’d changed.
But I just knew I could change him back.
I tried to look around for something—anything to remind Daddy of this bench and that kiss. Pam was looking around, too, but I don’t think she understood what she was looking for.
Just then, though, she said, “Look at this leaf. It’s bigger than my two hands put together. It might be the biggest leaf ever.”
“That’s an oak leaf,” I told her—proud I remembered what Grandma told me about the one in her yard.
But then it hit me. “An oak leaf! That’s it!”
“That’s what?” Pam looked confused.
“Mama and Daddy sat under this very oak tree to have their first kiss! So what better thing to remind Daddy of that kiss and those feelings than a big old oak leaf from the tree? Pam—you’re a genius!”
Pam lit up with one of those big smiles that took over her whole face. She even puffed up her chest a bit, too.
I felt closer to Daddy already just sitting there on their bench and the cemetery didn’t seem so scary after all.
I knew it wouldn’t be long before he would fall in love with
Rainbow and Mama and us all over again.
And so, armed with the flag and the leaf, we all three marched home.
chapter 18
“I got the job!” Mama announced as she hung up the phone.
“What job, Joanie?” Grandma asked. “Or did you already tell me?”
Poor Grandma. On her bad days, she couldn’t remember things. But on her good days, she couldn’t forget not remembering.
But maybe I was getting forgetful, too, ’cause I had no idea what Mama was talking about either.
“I didn’t want to say anything earlier,” Mama explained, “in case I didn’t get the job. But that was Gloria Davis, my friend from high school who’s a librarian. I’m going to work at the library!”
“Why do you need to get a job here?” I asked Mama, who was practically dancing around the room. “If you need a job, why don’t you just ask to get your old job back in Columbus?”
In Ohio, Mama had worked as a school secretary. She’d pretty much worked ever since I could remember, unlike Daddy. Sometimes he wouldn’t go to work at all. Other times, he’d be gone a few days, saying he was starting something big.
Mama stopped her happy-dance and looked at me, sighing more dramatic than usual. “Alice, I’m getting a job here at the library to help support us. It’ll be a good thing and it’s just down the street.”
“Well, congratulations, honey,” Grandma said. “I’m just sorry you have to get a job. Seems like you always had to be the one working before, too.”
With all Grandma’s forgetting lately, it was funny how she could remember just fine that Daddy didn’t work much when he was home.
Eddie tapped Mama on the shoulder to ask what was going on.
When she told him her news, he asked, “What about us?” Then he signed, “Who will stay with us?”
Mama nodded and signed, “As long as Grandma is having a good day, like today, I think Alice can help her enough to stay with you. If it looks like it’s a bad day for Grandma, I’ll stay home. Gloria—Mrs. Davis—knows all about Grandma. If something happens, I can be home in two minutes. Is that okay with you, Alice?”
“Not really.” I looked down and stared at the kitchen table with the white crocheted tablecloth Grandma made. I pulled on a loose piece of yarn that was looking like it was ready to escape the rest of the tablecloth.
“Alice Ann, we have to make a life for ourselves here.”
“We have a life in Columbus.” I pulled the yarn and the rest of the tablecloth puckered and rose up like a magic trick. I could tell Mama was signing something in silence to Eddie, but I didn’t look up to see what it was. Eddie signed something back and then left the room.
“Is it really that bad for you here?” Mama’s voice was soft, but it cracked a little.
I shrugged.
I was just about ready to tell Mama how much I was missing Linda, my school, my daddy, when someone was knocking at the door. Since the screen was open, I could see it was a man. Again, for a second, I thought it was Daddy.
“Pat!” Mama practically laughed as she stood up from the table, fixing her hair like she was gonna get her picture taken all of a sudden. “What a nice surprise to see you today!”
When he came in the door, I recognized him as the grocer but couldn’t figure out why he was here at our house and why Mama was so happy to see him. He sure wasn’t carrying any groceries with him.
“Hi, Joanie. You look lovely today.” I was scowling at him when he turned to me. “And so do you, Alice Ann.”
I just stared back without answering, but seeing Mama’s eyes glaring at me, I knew I had to mind my manners. “Thank you, Mr. O’Brien.”
“Your mama told me about your bike accident, and, well, my daughter, Maddie, has a bike she’s too big for now. So I brought it for you.”
He opened up the door and waved for us to follow him outside where there was a bike that was a lot better-looking than Mama’s old bike. It was a green banana bike with a long flowered seat. I fought the urge to take it for a ride since I didn’t want Mr. O’Brien thinking I liked it. Or him. I remembered the last time I heard about his daughter. “Is Maddie still seeing the son of the post office guy?”
The look on his face made me smile, but Mama’s look told me I’d gone too far.
“Um . . . no . . . they aren’t seeing each other anymore.”
He looked back at Mama, who cleared her throat before talking. “Alice, did you forget something?”
“Thank you for the bike. I don’t think I’ll need it, but thanks.”
Mama shook her head at me and motioned for them to go back inside.
I just stayed on that porch, looking at a bike that—like everything else—didn’t really belong to me.
chapter 19
The heat of the end of June made me honest-to-goodness miss the heat of the beginning of June. When I walked outside it was like wandering smack into a baker’s oven that got cranked up a degree or two with each slam of the door. Even with Grandma’s two box fans, it wasn’t much more comfortable inside.
Every night, after I prayed for that blasted heat to let up some, I prayed that Daddy would come or send word he was coming the next day. Figured I had my bases covered then. Surely God would answer at least one of my prayers. But every morning it just got hotter and the messages from Daddy never came. I started to worry that maybe God was as deaf as Eddie.
But on the first of July I woke up early feeling extra-hot and extra-sticky since Mama got up before me to get ready for work and took the fan with her.
I was too hot and sticky to get dressed, so I walked downstairs in my pj’s to find Mama sitting at the kitchen table reading a letter. Mama saw me and tucked the letter under her book. “Good morning. You’re up early.”
I yawned and sat next to her. “Couldn’t sleep. It’s so hot here.”
“Oh, I’m sorry—I took the fan. You can have it back if you want to go back to bed for a while.” Mama’s eyes darted to the book that was covering the letter.
I nodded toward the book. “Who’s the letter from?”
Mama pulled it out from under the book. I glanced at the envelope hoping it was signed SWAK.
It wasn’t. But I recognized Daddy’s handwriting and a wave of happiness blew over me, which felt better than a thousand fans.
And then I saw Mama wipe her eyes. I hoped with every ounce of hopefulness I had inside that those were tears of joy because the letter said he missed us something fierce and wanted us back in Ohio. But from the sour look on her face, I sort of knew that wasn’t the case.
I reached for the letter, but Mama pulled her hand and the letter back. “There’s . . . um . . . there’s a lot of boring details in here, but”—she cleared her throat again and tried to sound happier—“but he said he’s going to try to visit Rainbow.”
“When? When is Daddy coming?!” I yelled as I threw my arms around Mama.
“Now, Alice Ann,” she said, “you have to remember Daddy sometimes makes promises—”
“When? When did he say he’s coming here?”
She took a deep breath before she answered, “The Fourth of July. He said he’d be here on the Fourth of July.”
Maybe I should have asked her then and there why that answer-to-my-prayers news would make her even a little sad, but I couldn’t bring myself to think anything but happy thoughts. My daddy was coming in three days.
Three days!
Independence Day would be a perfect day for him to come and break us all free of Rainbow.
. . . . . .
“Is my clock wrong, or are ya early?” Miss Millie stood at her back door, dressed in her usual shirt and jeans, but with her hair not in its usual braid. Her silver hair hung in long strands, making her look younger even with all her wrinkles.
I walked on in, noticing Clarence didn’t even bark to announce my
arrival. “Sorry I’m so early, but I couldn’t wait to tell you—Daddy’s coming home! I mean Daddy’s coming here—in three days, on the Fourth of July!”
“Is that so?” Miss Millie said. “Well, I’ll be . . .”
“Yep. He wrote to Mama and told her that very thing. He’s gonna come here and remember he loves us and never want to be without us anymore.”
“Said all that in a letter?”
“Well, not exactly. I don’t rightly know what all he said in the letter. Mama was kinda tearful and emotional about it. But he’s coming and I know it’s all gonna be okay after that.” I thought of all the treasures I had collected and tucked away in Mama’s box of letters—treasures I would be giving to Daddy in just three days!
Miss Millie nodded as she ran her fingers through her hair like a comb. “How’s your little brother feel about it all? Is he excited your daddy’s coming?”
“Not really,” I admitted. “Eddie feels things different. When I told him at breakfast that Daddy was coming, he just looked at me like I’d told him I was eating a dang egg for breakfast.”
“Hmmm.” Miss Millie was now braiding her hair while looking straight at me. “Do you think he doesn’t want your daddy to come fetch y’all?”
“I don’t know. When I asked him if he misses Daddy, he said the darndest thing—he just said, ‘Not really.’ Can you believe that?”
But before Miss Millie could say anything, Eddie was standing at her door, holding his plate. “Well, wonders never cease! Look who’s here.” Miss Millie waved hello to him.
Then he turned to me. “I walk with you today, remember?”
In my excitement to tell Miss Millie about Daddy, I forgot I’d promised Eddie he could walk with us today. He liked the excuse to “drive” his plate farther than Grandma’s yard. “Sorry,” I signed, rubbing my fist over my heart.
