Nuvasu

Chapter 2

Chapter 2


My Mother eventually did return home, two weeks late, but with extremely good news. She had decided that we were going to move away with George. Up until that day, I had no idea whom George was, with the exception that I knew he was a tall white man. Before that day, I had only seen him from a distance through a window, which wasn’t a very good look to begin with, now we were going to move in with him. I was happy for my mother, she seemed so happy, but I was going to be leaving everything I knew behind. I was scared, plain and simple. Most of my fear subsided while my mother was doing the old ‘Meet the Parents’ routine, and I got to sit by George to try to get to know him. George said he had come from Pennsylvania, and now he’s been living in Cedar Rapids for the last two years. He was tall, real thin with short light brown hair, and he had piercing green eyes that went along with his weird smile and crooked teeth. I say it was weird because it was so big, like if it really did go ear to ear. My mother told my Nanna in the kitchen that George had his own business in Cedar Rapids that was doing quite well. He was a Baker and owned his own house above his bakery that was in a busy part of town. On all accounts, George seemed like he was really nice, even my grandmother could find hardly anything wrong about him, which was very surprising to all of us, considering she never had a nice word about anyone. My grandfather took George outside to show him some of his wheat fields while Jacy went along for the walk, and the ladies chatted in the kitchen about how wonderful George was. Even my Aunt Bena found him charming, and at that time she wasn’t even really interested in boys, much less men. I know that my mother kept bragging about him mostly to watch Terona squirm with envy. It was cruel, but that’s how they were towards each other, and it was about time that my mother finally had something to boast about. During dinner on our last night in the home that I grew up in, Matwau tried to play a small prank on George by putting a huge spoonful of salt into his glass of lemonade. I’m not sure on how George knew about it, but without Matwau knowing, George switched glasses with him and offered a toast to my mother and I, and our new life together with him. We all picked up our glasses and drank except for Matwau who spit his mouthful of drink all over the table. My grandfather was so upset at his antics that he made him leave the table. It was so nice to see someone not only not fall for one of Matwau’s pranks, but get him at the same time. It was then that I felt a lot better about our move with George.



The next morning we had gotten up very early to catch the train in Mason City. Though George drove my mother to his home weeks ago, they felt it would be better to take the train to come and get me and take our belongings. I was so excited, that I couldn’t wait to get to the city. I was never on a train before, and though it was just after Five A.M., and most children are either sleeping or just waking up, I was bouncing around as if it were noon. The train got to the station early, and by Six O’clock, we were on our way, and by Ten O’clock the train ride had all but lost it’s luster. I did however enjoy looking out the window, watching the places I never seen before pass by. It was all so new to me that my stomach was in knots. I always wanted a ‘Father’, and now I had George, who wasn’t my father, but he was going to be close enough, I always wanted to go on a train and see other places which I was doing now, plus the most important part, I always wanted my Mother to be happy, and she was. While we rode along, George had told me that Cedar Rapids was about 120 miles from our farm in Rock Falls, and it had it’s own Island in the middle of the Cedar Rapids River. I had no idea what an Island was, but I couldn’t wait to see it anyway. With all my excitement combined with the fact that I never sat that long in my whole life, I started getting fidgety, and started getting up and moving around a lot. George, who I guess wasn’t used to children, especially on long trips, asked my mother to get me to sit down first, and then asked me himself when I got up again, and though I didn’t mean to be disrespectful, I got up for the third time after being told to sit about ten minutes after George told me to. As I got to my feet and started to walk, George shot his hand out and grabbed me by my arm, hard enough to really get my attention, but not hard enough to leave a mark. “You better learn how to listen like a proper little lady.” George said to me, as he guided me back towards my seat. “Proper little girls listen when they are asked to do something. O.k.?” He asked and stated at the same time. “Yes, George” I said looking down at my feet as I sat down, “I was just excited, I’m sorry.” “Oh Honey,” added my mother, “we understand, but you have to sit, only for a bit more, I promise.” It was so weird hearing my mother talk so nicely. Sure, she always talked to me, but never in such a tender way. At first I didn’t know how to reply to her, so I just sat there and put on one of those ‘Happy faces’ that she taught me and pretended that I wasn’t both shocked by how different my mother was acting, and by how scared I was over how George made me feel moments ago.

It wasn’t long after that when our train arrived in Cedar Rapids and all the feelings I had a little while ago were gone and replaced by the shear awe of how different and fantastic my new surroundings were. I had been to Mason City quite a few times, but this City was so much larger and busier than what I was used to. The storefronts were clean and nicely painted and the storeowners seemed eager to except whatever business came their way. The city streets were all paved, and very busy with traffic coming from all directions. On the sidewalks, which were all concrete, people shopped and hurried from one place to another, while fruit and vegetable carts cut their paths down, almost making the passerby look at the goods they were selling. George thought it would be better if we walked to our new home since it wasn’t that far from the train station. My mother protested at first because of all of our bags, but soon caved to Georges request. As we walked past the stands full with fruits, vegetables, and newspapers, I asked my mother if perhaps some of my Poppies vegetables were being sold here. George answered for her by laughing and telling me how cute I was, and then explained that these goods were not from over a hundred miles away, but from farmers that lived just outside the city and promised that once we settled our things, we would come back to get some fresh fruits. Our new home really wasn’t close to the train station at all, in fact it took a good thirty minutes to get to there on foot. During our walk to Georges house, I noticed that the further we went, the less up keep there was to the stores. The sidewalks weren’t sweep, paint peeled from storefronts, and there were no fruit stands or vegetables carts blocking our path. The nicely dressed people I noticed earlier were replaced by first plain dressed then shabby dressed. It seemed that the closer we got to Georges house, the further we got away from the beautiful things in the city. Regardless on how our surroundings changed during our travels, or how the peoples look changed, I was still very happy to be in such a fascinating place and to finally reach our destination. By the time we got to the Georges bakery, my feet were sore from my shoes, my legs were tired, and I was afraid I was never going to be able to let go of the handles from my bags that I was carrying. Not to mention it felt like if my arms had stretched down to my ankles. I was so tired from our walk that the thought of my arms being so long almost made me giggle out loud.

The building was a little run down, but it was still so much nicer than our home on the farm. George and my mother showed me the entire house starting with the kitchen, which was messy, but still very fancy, then the living room and dining room where we would share our meals, and then the reading room that had a lot of books, all which were given to George by his parents he explained to us. George told me that I was more than welcome to read them all, as soon as I learned to read, of course. I didn’t bother telling him then that I did know how, well, a little anyway. They then showed me where the bathroom was, which I used almost immediately upon being shown it. It was painted all white with a deep tub, a sink with a mirror above it and toilet. The bathroom was lager than the one at my grandparents home, and it seemed by the look of all the newspapers in there, that this was Georges ‘other’ reading room. After I finished using the bathroom, my mother showed me her new bedroom which was Georges as well, and then took me down the hallway to the last room in the house, not counting the closets. “Well, here you go, Nuvasu”. Said my mother as she opened the door to the only room I haven’t seen. “We saved the best for last. This is your room.” “Oh my Gosh!” was all I was able to say as I looked into the room. It was a beautiful room, with pink and white striped wallpaper, a single bed with a white quilt and a fluffy pillow. There were two windows with a big dresser in between them, and white curtains that hung down to the floor. On my new dresser and bed were many dolls and stuffed animals, and on the walls hung colorful pictures of flowers that Georges mother had painted years earlier. “Well, what do you think Nuvasu?” asked George from behind me. “Is this really my room? I never had my own room, especially one so wonderful!” I all but shouted as I ran into my bedroom. “ I know you shared one with your mother and Aunt Terona, wasn’t it? Now you have one all for you.” George replied, as I climbed onto my bed and started looking at all the dolls that were so beautiful, with glass eyes, painted faces and pretty dresses. I started to correct him, “well, it was my Aunt Bena…” Before he interrupted me. “Now I want you to be very careful of those dolls, they cost a lot of money, o.k. little girl?” “I will.” I promised him, placing the dolls back on the bed. “Why don’t I show you the bakery? Then we can get something to eat. How does that sound?” he asked. “O.k.” I answered him in a giddy and excited tone as I climbed off the bed. “I can’t wait to see it. Do you have lots of cakes? Oh, and cookies? I love cookies and cake and pies! I’m so hungry I could eat them all!” “Well, I hate to tell you this, but I’ve been closed for sometime while your mother came to visit, and then we came to get you, but I’m sure we could get you some kind of treat after we have our dinner.” George assured me while messing my hair.

When we finally got downstairs to Georges Bakery, it looked and smelled as if it weren’t open for much longer than two or three weeks. As I looked around, I noticed that the big window in the front of the store said Bakery on it, not George’s Bakery, or even George’s Baked Goodies, something that might attract more people, but then again, George did say that his bakery did really good business, so I guess it worked for him. Walking around the store, I noticed that the counters were dusty, and the display cases had cobwebs inside and out, and the floor needed a lot more than a good sweeping. It smelled like something spoiled somewhere in there while he and my mother came and got me, even though there was nothing in the cases or in the window that could have went bad. George must have smelled it too because he walked past me and opened the front door to let some fresh air in. “I know it looks scary in here,” George said to me, “but you’ll see, this place has people in and out of here all the time. Heck, sometimes I don’t close up until eight o’clock at night.” “Tomorrow Nuvasu and I will help you clean it up, right Nuvasu?” my mother said to George, while asking me. “O.k., I’ll help.” I added heading to get some fresh air. Even though I was starving a few minutes ago, I really wasn’t too hungry after being in there. The smell had upset my stomach, and was even starting to give me a headache. George ushered me and my mother outside and then locked the door. Just as George had promised we went to a small restaurant around the corner and ate supper. We talked about where I would go to school, and where my mother could pick up the groceries, and of the local attractions around. Even though it was a pretty fun evening, it ended early for me. I was so tired after all the excitement wore off, that by Seven o’clock, I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer. I took my new dolls and stuffed animals off my bed and placed them on the chair next to my dresser, put on my nightclothes and climbed into bed. While I laid there, waiting for sleep to take me under its wing, I started thinking on how wonderful things were going to be for my mother and me. George was so nice today, and I even forgot all about the scare he put into me on the train. Once I finally drifted into sleep, I dreamt that I was walking in a field surrounded by trees and full of knee high wild flowers, and just like in the real world, I was alone, but I didn’t feel alone. I looked around, but only saw birds in the blue sky, bees getting nectar from the flowers and a dog off in the distance. The field was new to me in my dreams, but yet I wasn’t afraid of being by myself as I did get when I wandered too far from My Poppy’s farm. It was like It was new, but old to me at the same time. The dog was at the far end of the field, now he was hardly visible to me, but yet I knew he was still there and though I couldn’t see him too clearly, he didn’t seem like one of those wild dogs that Jacy and Matwau had chased from the fields by the farm. No, he somehow seemed friendly to me, as if maybe this was his field that I was picking flowers in. In my dream, I stopped looking at the dog, and just enjoyed all the beauty around me, and listened to the quiet that was all around me. It was a perfect dream to end such a perfect day.

The next morning I awoke with the morning sun, which for the first time in my life was blocked, not by clouds, but by other buildings. I walked down the hallway and woke my mother and we prepared breakfast, and then woke up George. As we sat at the table, we didn’t say grace like we did with my Grandparents, and we didn’t really talk about all the chores that had to be done that day which was a custom I grew up with. My mother told George that after breakfast, we’d do the dishes and head downstairs to clean it up. George just grunted and kept eating. Near the end of breakfast, George did explain that he really wasn’t a morning person, and that once he was fully awake, he’d join us downstairs. With that being said, we finished our breakfast and then my mother and I washed up the dirty dishes and headed down to the smelly bakery to clean it up. George was asleep in his reading chair with the morning paper on his lap so we decided to start with out him. The smell in the bakery didn’t subside until we were cleaning with the door wide open for about an hour. It was a cool October morning with a crisp breeze, but we really didn’t notice while we dusted, sweep and scrubbed the store, unless we stood by the door. About two hours into the clean up, my mother found the source of the awful smell, it was a dead rat, lodged deep under one of the counters. The poor thing had apparently met his end after eating some poison that George set under the counters. My mother called me over to help scoop it into a bag with some other trash to be burned, which I did reluctantly, of course. I never did agree with touching anything dead, nor do I like to do so now, but sometimes we gotta do things we don’t care to do. After we put the deceased vermin into the trash, my mother went up stairs to let George know of our find. I stayed downstairs cleaning the glass door, as high as I could reach that is, and the large window in front of the store. It looked like it was going to rain outside by how dark the sky had become, and by how the wind picked up. The dark, almost black clouds rolled under the gray ones with impressive speed, and before I knew it, the rain came down like a curtain, blocking my view of the other streets in either direction. As I back up, and was ready to close the door, a huge bolt of lighting flashed so bright, that it both blinded and startled me bad enough to make me lose my balance as I was backing up. I landed pretty hard on my backside, but not hard enough to take my mind off of the loud crack that followed the lighting. I wasn’t sure why I was so afraid from that lighting bolt, whether it was because I was a stranger in a strange land, or because it caught me so off guard, but I made it upstairs in record breaking time, I can tell you that. I looked around for my mother and George for a few minutes, first looking in the reading room where George was earlier, then the kitchen and then living room that’s when I realized I was alone downstairs for almost a half hour. I figured that maybe they were in their bedroom, so I started down the hallway when another bolt of lighting cracked that stopped me in my tracks. I was about to continue down the hallway when I started to hear odd noises coming from my mother and Georges room, which made me hesitate for a minute or two. The noises weren’t of pain, nor were they of someone crying, but more like moans, and they were coming from my mother. I was frightened by what I heard, but yet I somehow knew not to run into their room, so I started tapping on the wall where I was standing which was about ten feet from their door. As I tapped, first softly, then a little harder, I kept calling to my mother, which at first seemed to fall on deaf ears, until I was yelling to her and slapping the walls. The moaning stopped and George yelled from behind the closed door for me not to come in, that my mother will be right out, and to quit making such a ruckus. My mother emerged from her room, partly dressed, and her hair was a mess, so I assumed that George had been hurting her, so I ran up to her, through my arms around her and kept asking her if she was all right. She knelt down in front of me and said that she was fine, that maybe I should go back down stairs and she’ll join me in a few moments. “But Mom, I heard you,” I said as the tears started streaming down my cheeks, “You were being hurt or something.” “Oh, now come on, you can see I wasn’t being hurt, I’m fine honey, really. George and I were just trying to be alone for a bit.” “But… but the moans.” I started to reply when I noticed George come half way out of the room. “Now you never mind those noises, big people make those noises when they’re alone.” He said. “Why don’t you run off and go back down stairs like your momma said.” Well, I came up because it is lighting and thundering really bad. It scared me.” I told him wiping my eyes. I felt some how silly crying in front of him now. “It’s only lighting, it ain’t going to hurt you none, now get.” George said raising his voice a little, and making it sound as if he were belittling me at the same time. My mother stood up and ran her hand through my hair as she began to comfort me. “Honey, I’ll be down in a few minutes, and then well have lunch, alright?” “Alright, mom.” I answered her as I turned and headed towards the staircase that led down stairs. It was still raining and the air was pretty cold, so I kept the front door closed, especially since the terrible smell had subsided now that the dead rat was bagged and tied up. I picked up were I left off, cleaning the windows, and then moved on to cleaning the glass on the display case when I heard someone come in the back door that lead up stairs. I turned expecting it to be my mother, and was surprised to see it was George. He looked around and then said, “Wow, this looks real nice in here. I guess after lunch, you’ll be just about done, huh?” “I guess. I cleaned the door and windows, but I couldn’t get near the tops.” I told him as I pointed out the big areas that I wasn’t able to reach. “That’s ok,” he said looking towards the front of the store. “Your mom or me will get that. Now, before we go back up stairs to eat, I’d like to explain something to you.” “I know, I know you weren’t hurting her. I’m sorry about that. I just never…” I began to say before he started talking over me. “No, I wasn’t talking about that, well, not exactly that. You see, if there is ever a time that your mom and me are alone, in our room, you are to never bother us, got it? You see, grown ups have sex, you know what sex is?” I just shook my head no, and then he continued, “Sex is what grown ups do when they are alone, and they don’t like it when kids run up, banging and a yelling. Understand?” I didn’t, but I shook my head to signal that I did anyway. “Good, because if there is one thing in my home that I will not put up with, and that’s a kid not listening or behaving, alright?” “Yes, George, I’ll listen anymore” I said not really knowing what we were talking about, or about the point he was trying to make. “Alrighty then, let’s go get us some lunch, princess.” George added and then motioned towards the back staircase. I went up the steps first, followed by George and as we climbed the stairs, George said that maybe tomorrow they would take me for a new dress. That is as long as I finished up the cleaning downstairs. That was just fine by me, I thought to myself. I like the Idea of going to see some of the fancy places my mother had told me about that sold pretty dress and other women’s clothing.

After lunch, I headed back to finish my cleaning, and my mother followed shortly after. We had the bakery cleaned up an hour before she was going to start dinner, so I went into the bathtub to clean myself now. I loved the bathtub in Georges home. It was so deep, and the water got really hot, a lot hotter than I was used to, but I enjoyed in never the less. George and my mother bought bubble soap that you add to the water to make it all bubbly, which made the bath even better. I played around until the water turned cold and George said that if I didn’t finish up soon, he was going to wet himself. I laughed and then rinsed off, or at least tried too. Those bubbles that were so much fun before, were now becoming a nuisance as I tried to rinse them off. I finally did, and quickly dressed in my bedclothes figuring that I might as well put them on since we weren’t planning on going anywhere tonight, plus I was a bit tired from all the work earlier. I then headed to help my mother set the table which was now one of my new chores, along with helping do the dishes and sweeping up. As I placed the plates on the table, I thought about what George had told me down stairs, and on how I wasn’t to bother them when they were having alone time, or sex as he called it, I still wasn’t sure what me meant by that. What was sex? Why did grownups do that, and why did they have to make such noises when they were alone. I knew they were alone at night or when I was in another room and I have never heard things like that before, so why was I told not to bother them. I was getting more confused by the minute, but yet I knew if I asked George, he would answer me while making me feel stupid for asking him to repeat or explain himself again. I went into the kitchen after setting the table to get the salt and pepper shakers and decided to ask my mother who getting the chicken out of the oven. “Mom, can I ask you, well, I don’t know what sex is, and I didn’t want to ask George, but how do I know when I’m not to bother you when your alone.” I asked. “What? Where did you learn that word?” My mother said raising her voice and almost dropping the chicken. “Little girls don’t need to know what that is!” “But, George said that I wasn’t to bother you when you both were alone,” I tired to explain, “I’m just confused is all.” “Well, how about this, George and I will leave our door to the bedroom open when we aren’t being… when we aren’t alone, alone. O.k.?” answered my mother in a calmer tone. “But today, the moaning. It scared me.” I still tried to explain. “I know. That’s my fault. It’s what big people do sometimes. It’s really nothing for you to worry about.” She told me, trying to explain, but I could see that she couldn’t find the words. “So, when I’m older,” I started to say to show that I understood, a little, anyway, before she snapped at me, “Nuvasu, that’s enough talk about this! You’ll learn like I did when you’re older, not before then. Parents, and grownups do things that are not for children to… Just drop this subject, alright?” “Yes, mom.” I said, and then took the shakers into the dining room. Though my mother and I spent a lot of time together, we hardly spoke, well about anything important, and she hardly ever raised her voice to me, but when she did, it would feel like a hundred rocks feel onto my heart. We were never really mother daughter close, but she was my mother, and when she felt upset with me, it still hurt inside. During dinner, I just sat quietly and ate while George and my mother had plans of the Bakery, and the house. Once and a while, either George or my mother would include me in their plans, but for the most part, it was all about them and their ideas on how to get in more business, or on moving furniture around.

That night I went to bed early again, that is after I finished washing the dishes. I quickly fell asleep and dreamt of the field again, and the same dog was in my dream, but this time he was a little closer, but yet far enough away so that I couldn’t tell exactly what kind of dog he was. He was funny though, as I watched him prance around, almost as if he were doing it for me to watch him. I started to walk towards him in the high grass, but yet I never seemed to get any closer to him. While sleeping, things like that don’t really puzzle you, but after you wake up, it does bother’s you to no end. Which is how I woke up, bothered. How come I couldn’t get to that dog in my dream? Did he keep running from me? No, I don’t think he did, but perhaps he was further that I thought? It was a dream after all, a stupid dream, nothing more. I looked towards my window and noticed it was still very dark out, so I closed my eyes and figured I would fall back asleep and then I would catch up to that dog. No dream was going to beat me, not my dream, anyway.

Over the next several weeks, things started to change in Georges home. The Bakery was open, but only when George had to fill an order for a cake or pie. George blamed the weather stating that every time the temperature dropped, so did most of his business. So since there were no constant customers, that meant there was no regular money coming in, which caused my mother and George to argue over finances, plus my mother started working at a hotel restaurant just outside of town to bring in money to make ends meet, which added to the arguing and leaving me alone with George most of the time. George’s warm natured turned towards me from time to time. Sometimes he was so nice to me, and other times it seemed I was nothing more than a slave. I even over heard him and my mother arguing a few times while he was drinking, and he would call me ‘Her bastard child’ and things to that affect, but the next day, if they were talking, he would apologize and try to explain it off as a drunken stupor or something like that. My mother never being one to argue always forgave him, and took it one step farther, by working more hours, especially at night so George would be sleeping when she came home, which worked for the most part. That left the cooking up to George, and rest of the housework for me, which George would only make me do anyway regardless if my mother was home or not, but at least it did keep me busy. I know it sounds like that at the age of four, I did more than could be expected, but as I remember it, four years old was around the time when most boys and girls wanted to do everything independently, or with as little help as possible, not to mention, I was a quick learner and I wasn’t always that great at doing the chores I had, but I did give each and every one of them my all. Call it pride, call it upbringing, call it what you will, but that’s how it was then, and you did what you were asked to do with no questions asked. On Wednesday night’s, George would always have friends over to play cards and get drunk. Even though alcohol was still illegal, unless prescribed by a doctor, George and his poker friends always had a ready supply on hand. I hated Wednesday nights. My mother made sure that she worked every Wednesday night till real late, and I usually went to bed even earlier, even though there was no way to fall asleep with the way they carried on in the other room. Not to mention, my room was quite cold, especially at night and the wind was blowing. Sometimes it would get so cold, that you could almost see your breath, or at least it seemed that way. George did hang blankets over my windows to cut down on the drafts, and moved my bed closer to heating vent on the floor, but it only helped a bit on the real cold nights.

Before I would go to bed, I usually sit in the reading room and would get a book that looked like it was easy to read, and try to read it. I would look at the words that I knew and try to sound out the words I didn’t by using the words I did know. I still can’t say if I ever read even one of those books correctly, but I did read a lot of them my way and that was fine by me. I would set my dolls in a row, and try to teach them how to read while I was learning myself. It was like school, but with a teacher who could not read very well, and like to have recess a lot. There was one book that was there, that was my favorite, even though the words were way to big and hard to learn. It was a book that had a lot of pictures of animals like Tigers, Apes, and Elephants that lived in a far off place called Africa. I know that because that was one of the few words George did help me learn in that book. I would show the pages to my dolls and point out the animals, and tell little stories about them. Of course most of my stories were made up, but they were only dolls, they didn’t really care if they were fact or fiction. Every now and then, if my ‘class’ was being good, I would tell them stories about Paul Bunyon and his blue ox Babe that I learned from my Poppy, or more daring stories like the ones my Aunt Bena would tell me. I would even make up my own stories from memories of my dreams and the wandering dog in the high grass. I wasn’t sure why, but I liked telling those stories most of all, and since I never told my mother or George about them, it was a way to keep them fresh in my mind so I could have more dreams like them. Plus, when I did tell those stories, it seemed to help me fall asleep a little faster, except for the nights that they played cards, that is. Nothing but time helped me sleep when they were good and drunk and laughing up a storm.

It was on November 6th, just 17 days before Thanksgiving when we got our first snow of the year, and even though it was only about an inch or two, it made the whole city so pretty. Not everyone enjoyed it like me, but then again, I always did love the snow, especially the first snow. I loved the way the snow could cover everything with a beautiful blanket, making even the most ugly sights pure looking. George complained that this would almost shut his bakery down for the winter, and my mother was even less impressed with the snow, do to the fact that she had to drive almost a half an hour to work, which would take even longer now. I’m not too sure, but I really don’t think her grievous was whole hearted, in fact, I actually thought that she enjoyed leaving for work earlier and coming home later. The less her and George were together, the less they fought, and the less they fought, the better we all got along. My mother used to complain about her job, but on the few occasions that I did go with her to her work place, she seemed to get along with everyone and even joked around with the other people. George on the other hand was still a mystery to me. I never understood why the weather affected his business. I was only just over four years old, and I ate cakes, cookies and pies in the winter as well as in the summer, and I hardly think that I was the only one who felt that way. I remember how nice it was drinking hot tea by the fireplace at my Grandparents house, dipping cookies in it on a cold winters day. My mother just used to say the George was being lazy, and of course she would only say that when he wasn’t around, or when they were arguing. I don’t think George cared if she called him lazy, or broke, or even a liar. He would just point to the door, and remind her how to use it to go back to her Mommies and Daddies if she was that unhappy with him here. That usually shut her up because even I knew that she wanted to on her own with me and out of my Grandparents house, so she would walk away, not saying anything more to him, until things cooled down, and they would make up, which usually meant that I had to go down and clean up the bakery or something like that. I don’t always like going downstairs by myself, but it was better than staying upstairs when they were being ‘alone’. So I would go down, and make the best of a bad situation by taking either my doll Hanna with me or a different doll, and sweep the already clean floor, or dust off the counters and then play until George or my mother would call me upstairs for a snack, or lunch or whatever reason they could come up with to let me know they were all made up. Lately, I wasn’t spending too much time in the bakery, which meant they weren’t spending too much time, if any, making up. I hated when they argued because I was always pulled into it some how, mostly by George, who would remind my mother of how he took both of us in, and how he treated me like gold, when no one, not even my Grandparents wanted me around. My mother would usually tell him how wrong he was, and on how he asked her to move in with him and he promised her a better life with him or stuff like that, but no matter what was said, if it didn’t come from George, it wasn’t true. I just wished I could have been able to figure out why he was so mean at times. What bothered me was that when he was mad, his anger wasn’t only aimed towards my mother, but towards me, and our family as well. As for me, I didn’t really let what he said about me bother me too much, but I really didn’t like the way he would say such cruel things towards my mother considering she was paying the bills and bank notes now, while he stayed upstairs in bed or watching over me as I cleaned something. The other thing that bothered me was that he said he treated me like gold, but if he really did treat me like gold, he would have lost me in one of his card games, like he lost most of his money and a several of his costly possessions. I’m glad that neither, my mother or me pointed that out to him. I’d hate to have given him the idea to use on his next bad bluff.

Most of the arguments these days weren’t even about money, but about the fact that George wasn’t completely honest with my mother while he was still courting her. Apparently George was married before, and had told my mother that his wife had passed away while giving birth to his child, which had also passed away during birth. Not only was his wife still alive, but so was his daughter, who was now just two years older than me. My mother was very upset that he lied in such a horrible way instead of just being honest and telling her that his marriage didn’t work out or something. What was more disturbing was that he had said his own child was dead instead of saying that she lived with her mother. How creepy do you have to be to say something like that? Though I never met my biological father, I’m sure that if he knew about me, about my mother being with child, he would have stuck around, or at least acknowledged me, or so I like to think, anyway, but to say you had a child that died at birth, even though she was alive and well, and that you even raised her for so many years was sick. George did however try to explain why he said such things about his own flesh and blood, which was that talking about her, or even thinking about her hurt to much, so he just felt it was better to think of them as dead. My mother told him that she could understand his point that it must hurt to be away from a child you raised, but she didn’t really understand why or how he could say that his daughter was dead. He just restated his case on how it tormented him to talk about it, and left it at that, and he wanted my mother to leave it at that too, which she did for the most part unless they were arguing. I can honestly say that I learned one way to forgive and forget at an early age, which I learned later on that it wasn’t the true means of forgiving or forgetting, but more like a ‘Marking and Remembering’ till you needed it.

The snow had stopped by three o’clock and my mother busied herself getting ready for work. I guess she decided to leave earlier than to wait around for them to argue again. George and I were sitting in the reading, which was the second warmest room in the house, and read the newspaper. George was telling me that the States have gone to in a hand basket because some Nellie T. Ross from Wyoming became the nation’s 1st woman governor who was serving the remaining term of her husband William B. Ross, and now Texas elected the state’s 1st woman governor, Miriam Ferguson. For some reason, George thought that a woman in any kind of politics was the worst form of insanity. I didn’t really have an opinion, so I just sat there and pretended to be interested until he lend back in his chair and read to himself. A few minutes later, my mother left to go to work, and George began dinner, so I just finished reading and set the table for two, again.