The Moment Keeper

by Buffy Andrews

  There were lots of pictures of me, a few of me and Grandma and none, not one, of me and Matt.

  “I love this one,” Elizabeth says when the photographer displays the photos she has just taken on the computer screen.

  “Me, too,” Tom says.

  Olivia is sitting on a white rocker, holding a doll that’s wearing a pink floral dress just like hers.

  “You didn’t tell me you got the doll a matching dress,” Tom says.

  Elizabeth smiles. “I couldn’t resist. It was just too adorable.”

  They look at all of the pictures and purchase several poses of Olivia and several poses of all three of them.

  “Remember our wedding pictures?” Elizabeth says.

  “How could I forget? We had a best man, a maid of honor, six bridesmaids, six ushers, a flower girl and ring bearer and the photo session took forever.”

  “But we got great photos,” Elizabeth said.

  “Yeah, but I’m not sure our five hundred guests were happy that they had to wait so long.”

  “It wasn’t five hundred, it was four hundred. And besides, the strolling musician and hors d’oeuvres held them over.”

  I had a doll with a matching dress once. I named her Sue, after my mom. It was Twins’ Day in preschool and no one wanted to dress like me. Grandma made all of my clothes and, even though I thought they were beautiful, they didn’t quite compare with the store-bought ones. Grandma thought the newer styles were too grown-up for a little girl just learning to print her name. So she used older patterns that she felt were more appropriate.

  The teacher didn’t know I didn’t have a partner. She thought Marybeth was my partner. But Marybeth decided that she wanted to dress like Melissa and Kristin, who always wore the latest fashions. So instead of twins they were triplets. When I told Grandma that I didn’t have a partner and that I didn’t want to go to school that day, she said she would make a dress for my doll and that I could take her. So, that’s what I did.

  I loved that red dress with the white trim and big red bow and I loved that doll. Most of all, I loved Grandma.

  “What’s it now?” Tom asks.

  “103. The pediatrician said there’s a bug going around and that high fevers are a part of it.”

  “So she doesn’t want to see her?”

  “If Libby’s not feeling better by tomorrow and she still has a high fever, the doctor said to bring her in.”

  “Do you want me to sleep in her room tonight?” Tom asks.

  “No,” Elizabeth says. “You have to get up for work tomorrow. Can you pump up the air mattress, though?”

  Tom gets the air mattress from the basement and pumps it up while Elizabeth rocks Olivia and sings her a lullaby.

  When I was sick, Grandma took care of me. She’d rock me and hold me and soothe me.

  “It’s OK, Sarah. It’s OK,” Grandma said as she tucked two-year-old me in her bed. “The medicine should work soon. Shh, baby girl. Shh.”

  Grandma crawled in bed beside me and wrapped her arm around me and pulled me closer. “These darn ear infections. Hopefully the surgery will help.”

  Tom peeks in the nursery. Olivia is asleep beside Elizabeth on the air mattress. “Liz,” he whispers, trying not to wake up Olivia.

  Elizabeth stirs.

  “How’s the fever? Do you need me to take off work?”

  “No,” Elizabeth says. “Fever finally broke.”

  “Well, if you need me, call me.”

  Elizabeth nods.

  “I love you. Tell Libby I love her, too.’

  “What do you mean she has to have surgery?” Matt asked Grandma.

  “Just what I said. The poor child has had one ear infection after another. The doctor says she needs to have tubes put in her ears.”

  “And how am I supposed to pay for it?” Matt asks. “That lousy insurance I have won’t begin to cover this.”

  “I worked out a payment plan with the doctor. I’ll pick up a couple more houses to clean and any extra alteration work at the bridal shop. Can you get any more hours at the factory?”

  “They’re cutting back, not adding hours.”

  “Well, if you give me the money you spend on beer each week that would help.”

  “Don’t start, Mom. It’s only a couple of beers a week.”

  “It’s more than a couple, Matt. Have you gone to any of those meetings yet?”

  Matt pushed out his chair and threw down his paper napkin. “No, and I don’t plan to either.”

  He left the house and it was just Grandma and me – again.

  Chapter 6

  Olivia points to the three stick figures on her drawing. “That’s Daddy and Mommy and me.”

  Elizabeth picks up Olivia and hugs her. “I love your drawing. And I love that we’re all smiling.”

  Olivia nods.

  Elizabeth puts Olivia down. “Where should we put it?”

  They search the stainless-steel refrigerator for some open space, but Olivia’s artwork covers every inch of the appliance.

  “How about in the office?” Elizabeth says.

  Olivia follows Elizabeth into the office crowded with heavy oak furniture. The bulletin board behind the desk is covered with Olivia’s artwork but Elizabeth makes room by overlapping some pieces and puts the new picture right in the middle.

  “The perfect place for the perfect picture of the perfect family,” Elizabeth says.

  “Per-vect,” Olivia says.

  “I’d like you to draw a picture of your family,” Miss Becky told the kindergarten class. “Afterward, you can share what you drew.”

  Miss Becky gave each of us a big sheet of white paper and a pack of new crayons. I ran my finger over the pointy crayon tips. My crayons at home had been worn down to stubs. I sat beside Reid and Rachel.

  I drew a big circle for Grandma’s head and a smaller one for mine. I glanced over at Reid’s paper. He was drawing a lot of circles. Each one was connected to a stick body. The figures were different heights. I looked at Rachel’s paper. She had drawn three stick figures and a flat circle with four stick legs coming out of the bottom.

  I pointed to the flat circle. “What’s that?”

  Rachel looked up at me, her black licorice eyes swallowing her cornrow-framed face. “My dog.”

  “What’s his name?” I asked.

  “Peanut Butter.”

  Reid laughed.

  Rachel covered her drawing with her arms.

  “I like that name,” I said.

  Rachel pulled her paper toward me and shifted in her seat so her back was blocking Reid from seeing her picture.

  “OK, children,” Miss Becky said. “Time to share. Anyone want to volunteer to go first?”

  Reid’s hand shot up. He was always first to volunteer for anything.

  “OK, Reid. Come to the front of the classroom so everyone can see your picture.”

  Reid pushed out his chair and walked to the front and stood next to Miss Becky.

  “This is my dad and this is my mom,” he said, pointing to the different stick figures on the big sheet of white paper. “And these are my sisters. Rebecca. Rachelle. Renee. And Randi. And that’s me.”

  “So you have four sisters?” Miss Becky asked.

  Reid shook his head so fast I thought his thick black glasses would fly off.

  “And a cat but I forgot to drawn him. His name is Rudy.”

  “Very good,” Miss Becky said.

  “And guess what?” Reid asked. He didn’t wait for Miss Becky to reply. “Our names all start with R.”

  “That’s right,” Miss Becky said. “They do.”

  Reid walked back to his seat, strutting like one of those Mummers Grandma always likes to watch on TV on Thanksgiving Day.

  “Who would like to go next?”

  I sat and listened as student after student talked about their families. I didn’t want to share my drawing. But eventually I was the only one left who hadn’t gone.

  “Sarah,” Miss Becky
said. “Your turn.”

  I picked up my drawing and went to the front of the class. “This is me and my grandma.”

  Reid raised his hand.

  “Yes, Reid,” Miss Becky said.

  “Where’s your mom and dad?”

  My body stiffened, like the time Grandma caught me sneaking chocolate-chip cookies after she said I couldn’t have any more because we were soon going to eat dinner.

  I swallowed hard. “I don’t have any.”

  Reid tilted his head and even with his thick glasses on I could tell he was scrunching his beady little eyes. “Why not?”

  “You know, Reid,” Miss Becky interrupted. “Just like there are different kinds of ice cream, there are many different kinds of families. Some families have moms and dads and sisters and brothers. Others have just a mom or just a dad or a grandma or a grandpa. What’s important to remember is that they are all families no matter how they are made up.”

  Reid scratched his head.

  Rachel raised her hand.

  “Yes, Rachel,” Miss Becky said.

  Rachel smiled. “I like Sarah’s picture.”

  From that day on, Rach and I were inseparable.

  “And God bless Mommy and Daddy,” says Olivia, her fingers, stained with magic marker, interlocked and her eyes pinched shut. “And Emma and Jack. And the nice lady at the deli who gave me a slice of cheese. And the man who came to the house and gave Mommy flowers from Daddy. And my teacher, Mrs. Plato. And those people Mommy and I saw waiting for food outside that building on the way to school today. Oh, and God bless Pepper. That’s our neighbor’s cat. He has three legs. Amen.”

  “That was a very nice prayer,” Elizabeth says, brushing Olivia’s ringlets off her face.

  Tom agrees. “I know who Emma is. Who’s Jack?”

  “He’s new at school. I played with him today. He said he doesn’t have a mommy or a daddy. He has a grandma.”

  Tom looked at Elizabeth. “Well, princess. I’m glad you played with Jack. I’m sure that made him feel good.”

  “Yeah. He cried. A lot. And then when we started to play, he stopped. For a little. But then when his grandma came to pick him up, he cried again.”

  “I see,” Tom says.

  “Emma asked him why he cries so much and that made him cry more. Why does he?”

  “Cry so much?” Elizabeth asks.

  Olivia nods.

  “Sometimes people are sad,” Elizabeth says. “And they just need time to be happy again.”

  “Will he be happy again?” Olivia asks.

  “I’m sure he will,” Tom says. “But you can keep praying for that to happen.”

  Tom pulls the pink blanket up to Olivia’s chin and kisses her on the forehead. Elizabeth tucks Olivia’s teddy beside her and kisses her on each cheek.

  “Sweet dreams, Princess,” Elizabeth says. “Love you bunches and bunches.”

  Every night, Grandma and I had the same routine. Even when I got older, parts of it remained. Like the part where she hugged me and kissed me on the cheek and told me how much she loved me and how proud she was of me before she went to bed. No one has ever loved me as much as Grandma. I thought that Bryan did. I thought he was my Prince Charming, coming to take me away. But I was wrong. So wrong. But that’s a moment for another day.

  The best part of our nightly routine was Grandma reading me a book. Of course, we said prayers, too. But the book always came first

  “Got the book you want to read?” Grandma asked me, then five.

  I grabbed a book from the bookshelf Grandma had found at a yard sale. She sanded and painted it and made it look like new. I loved my pink bookshelf.

  “Didn’t we just read that book last night and the night before and the night before that?” Grandma asked.

  I nodded and my pigtails laced with purple ribbons bounced.

  “Well, OK then. Hop on up.”

  I snuggled next to Grandma on the patched sofa. She slipped one arm around me and started to read, her index finger sliding under the words as she went.

  I loved the story of Cinderella. How she went to the ball and met the prince and had mice for friends. Oh, and a fairy godmother who made all of her dreams come true. In my mind, the fairy godmother looked like Grandma, whose basic wardrobe was tan khakis and some sort of button-down blouse she made, usually a floral print.

  Grandma tucked me in bed and placed a glass of water, half full, on my nightstand. I always liked to have a drink nearby so if I woke up and was thirsty, it would be right there.

  I folded my hands and Grandma folded hers and we prayed together.

  “Wait,” I said when we got to the “Amen” part.

  “And God bless Rachel and Grandma. Oh, and can you make Matt happy and love me like he loved my mom?”

  I heard Grandma gasp, and I opened my eyes to see her wiping her blotchy face on her pajama sleeve.

  I prayed and prayed my whole life for Matt to be happy, but he never was. I wanted him to be happy more than I wanted him to love me. I gave up on him loving me when he stopped coming around after Grandma kicked him out of the house. I wasn’t mad that Grandma kicked him out. He kept wrecking things and made Grandma cry all of the time. It wasn’t long after Grandma kicked him out that we moved into a small apartment where the landlord mowed the yard and did other outside work. My bedroom wasn’t as big as it was in the house, but it was right next to Grandma’s instead of down the hall and I liked that.

  Chapter 7

  Olivia sets her pink and purple princess table with her ceramic floral china set. There’s a setting for her and her best friend, Emma, and one for Olivia’s doll, Sadie, and one for Emma’s doll, Nellie.

  “Is it time yet?” Olivia calls to her mother.

  “Almost,” Elizabeth says.

  Each week, the five-year-olds have a play date and this week it’s at Olivia’s house. The doorbell rings and Olivia races to the front door. The girls hug and Emma and Olivia run to the playroom where they’ll spend most of the afternoon. The room is packed with every toy a little girl could want – from a play kitchen to an immense dollhouse to a puppet theater complete with a red velvet curtain.

  Elizabeth walks in with a plate filled with grapes, carrot sticks, and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches cut into quarters, diagonally. She places a quarter on each girl’s plate.

  “Don’t forget Sadie and Nellie,” Olivia says. “They’re hungry.”

  Elizabeth puts a quarter on their plates, too, and sets the rest in the middle of the table.

  The girls dig in Olivia’s sparkly pink dress-up trunk for hats and boas to wear. Olivia wears her Cinderella gown and Emma chooses the Snow White dress. Olivia picks the tea-party hat with the pink chandelle feathers and matching boa and short-sleeve gloves. Emma picks the tea-party hat with the ruffle trim and matching boa and long-sleeve gloves. They pull out the pink and purple chairs with heart-shaped cushions and place their dolls across the table from one another. Then they pull out the other two chairs and sit.

  “What’s that, Sadie? You think this is good? Me, too,” Olivia says.

  “Nellie thinks it’s good, too,” Emma says.

  The girls’ giggles draw a curious Elizabeth, who peeks in the room and finds them changing their dolls’ diapers.

  “You have a real baby sister to change,” Olivia says. “I wish I did.”

  “Maybe you could ask Santa for one?”

  Ever since Emma got a baby sister, Olivia’s been asking her parents for one. They’ve told her that she’s special, picked just for them and that even if she never has a baby sister, or brother, she can always have friends over to play. Olivia doesn’t quite understand the why behind it, but having Emma over always helps.

  “You’re my bestest friend,” Rachel said, hugging me.

  It was the first — and only — time Rachel was allowed to play at my house. We spread the blanket out on the living-room floor and pretended to have a picnic on the beach. The tan vinyl hassock was a sand dune an
d the sofa was our sailboat. We had so much fun pretending – until Matt came home.

  It was in the middle of the afternoon and Grandma was in the kitchen baking chocolate-chip cookies. Matt opened the door and stumbled in with a woman whose top was cut so low that I thought her double-Ds would pop out. He knocked over the black tole-painted TV tray inside the front door where Grandma kept her keys. Grandma heard the noise and rushed into the hallway.

  “Matt,” Grandma said. “It’s the middle of the afternoon. Sarah has a friend over.”

  Matt took a couple of steps toward Grandma, almost knocking her over. “I have a friend over, too.” His speech was slurred. “This here’s Candy.”

  “Matt,” Grandma said. “Not now.”

  “Get out of my way, old woman,” he said, swatting her with the back of his arm.

  He looked at me. “What are you lookin’ at, kid?”

  I swallowed hard and stepped in front of Rachel to protect her. “Go. Don’t hit Grandma.”

  Rachel was holding onto the back of my shirt so tightly that I thought it was going to rip.

  “Oh, Mattie,” the woman said. “Let’s just go to my place.”

  Matt looked at Grandma, then at me.

  They stumbled out the same door they came in and Grandma ran to the kitchen to take the burning cookies out of the oven. The kitchen filled with smoke and the fire alarm made a shrill sound, the kind that no matter how well you cover your ears, you still hear it.

  “Want to play grown-ups?” Olivia asks.

  Emma nods.

  “I’m a dancer. What do you want to be?”

  “A teacher.”

  The girls divide the room, each taking a half for her “apartment”.

  Olivia pretends to call Emma. “Were the kids good today in school?”

  “There was one little boy who was bad. He pulled a girl’s hair.”

  “What did you do?” Olivia asks.

  “Gave him a timeout.”