Opposite Places: I'M GOING, MAYBE

The Michigan cold freezes my toes, my nose, the marrow in my bones. My big fuzzy mittens have fake red leather palms which slide off the snow shovel, make my work harder than it should be. I stuff the left one in my jacket and start on the front steps. I get nowhere fast. The snow is deep and wet. Each time I move I feel the cold water sliding into my galoshes.

Mother wraps on the window, motions me to shovel, shovel. I dare not mouth the words I want to tell her. They begin with ‘go–yourself.’ With a broad smile she has instructed me to do the steps and a path to my daddy’s car parked at the curb. ‘Hurry, Dear. Daddy has to put his skid chains on.’

I swear more than I should. Dad corrects me. Once he washed my mouth out with soap and I bit him. He bit me back and cut off my allowance for two weeks. He is probably having hot cocoa while I freeze out here. I have a dream, something I truly want to happen, but it won’t. My wish is to go stay with my Aunt Beverly in her Georgia house. With each shovel of snow I push ahead of me I picture her walking down the road, picking peaches, tasting the warm juice as it runs down her chin. If only I could grow up faster, get a job, leave this cold world I live in...but I can’t.

Mother taps on the window again and motions for me to aim my path towards Daddy’s car. For spite, I go the opposite way and reach the gutter where Dr. Byron keeps his car. He and his wife drove to FL for a nice long vacation last week. With her coat barely on her shoulders, Mother comes outside, screaming at me. ‘Look what you have done. Now Daddy has to walk in the snow. Shovel where I told you!’ She gathers her coat closer around her and almost slides back to the house. I
 am angrier than she is. As much as I don’t want to do it, I start a new path for my father. A stranger begins pulling into Dr. Byron’s empty place. My slippery galosh trips me. I fall into the gutter. It’s a wonderful gutter, feels warm and cozy. The sky has turned a gorgeous blue. My Aunt Beverly shows me her white false teeth when she smiles and hands me a sweet, wormless  peach. Heaven is shining on me. I ask my aunt about the beautiful trees across the road. She names them as mimosa and magnolia. ‘Take a deep breath, Honey. The smell is like nectar from the gods.’ I take a deep breath but don’t smell the trees. What I smell stinks badly. I hate it. I feel a cold hand slapping my face. ‘Get up, get up, Debra. Are you alright? You slipped and hit your head on the car parked in Dr. Byron’s space.’ She shuts up. My head hurts a little. I feel dizzy and cold.

‘Dr. Shakowski is taking Dr. Byron’s place this week and wants me to bring you inside as soon as you can stand ok.’ I stand, my mother holds my hand. I hear Daddy trying to get his skid chains on while I bring to my mind the taste of that Georgia peach.