Control

PICK UP

 

'Carolyn, get your cute little tush in here. I've told you a thousand times I am your mother, not your slave. Come in here!' I take my ten year old daughter by the hand to her closet, a nice big one, open the door for her and give her a little push in. There are crooked empty hangers, shoes lying unpaired off the shoe racks. It angers and disgusts me. 'Ma, leave me alone. I haven't done my geography homework yet and better do it now.' It isn't easy but I refuse to let her touch her books until she straightens her closet. Casually, I sit on the edge of her bed, cross my legs, and wait for her to do what she is told. She grunts like a pig, makes faces and keeps poking her head out the door, giving me dirty looks. In fifteen minutes the place is presentable and I go downstairs to make breakfast, pack a school lunch for her.

 

'Carolyn, finish your cereal. Mrs. Frank and Greta are here to pick you up for school.' 'Mom, tell Mrs Frank I am sorry but I forgot to tell her Mrs. Harding and Clifford are picking me up on Tuesdays from now on.'
I return one of the dirty looks she gave me a few minutes ago. 'Tell her yourself, Carolyn. You really are the most inconsiderate kid I know.'

 

She skips down the front path just as though she were going to get in the car. Thank heavens I am out of ear shot to hear what ridiculous excuse she makes to Mrs. Frank. Mrs. Harding and Clifford don't show up and no amount of begging from Carolyn will get me to drive her to school. 'Walk,' I tell her.

 

As I drop her off in front of P.S.62, she takes her time. She slowly goes towards the school entrance. I can barely hear her yell, 'Pick me up at 3:30. Glee Club meeting 3 o'clock.  Still angry, writhing the way my daughter treats me, embarrasses me in front of friends, I have to
use a lot of self control to not get there before 3:45. No sign of her. I wait until 4:00, park and go inside to find her. The music room is empty. My brow wrinkles with concern. It's possible she was abducted, in some kind of accident, injured in P.E. The principal has left and the school feels deserted.  I call home and the little bad girl answers. 'Where were you, Mom? I waited until 3:30 and then Mrs. Harding and Clifford brought me home. Without uttering another word, I click off my cell.

 

The phone is ringing when I get in the door. 'Carolyn, darn it, pick up the phone.' There is silence for a few minutes and I start dinner. The phone rings again. 'Carolyn, my hands are greasy. Pick up the phone.' It rings until it gets tired of ringing and stops. Once more and I am ready to tear my hair out and beat Carolyn to a pulp. I answer. 'Sorry, Rosella, Carolyn isn't here.' A bit of guilt doesn't bother me at all. .In her sweet goody girl voice, she calls to me. 'Who was it, Mom?' 'Wrong number.' Another little lie isn't going to send me to hell.

 

'Dad will be home soon, please go pick up his evening  paper before it flies away.' 'I'll get it after I finish my geography homework.' My dander is blowing like the wind. 'Now, pick it up now, Kid.' My tone hits its mark. She puts the newspaper on Howard's Lazy Boy Lounger, opens the business section to the page where the Lottery numbers are shown every Thursday.

 

My vegetable soup needs stirring. It's nice and thick the way Howard and I like it. 'Fill the water glasses, 'Carolyn, put ice in before you pour.'
Our daughter picks out the lima beans and puts them on a small cake plate. Next she attacks the soft onions and removes them, too. Except for those she tells me the soup is good. My evening is made. Howard is a fast eater and tonight, I don't know why, but he is faster than usual.

 

As soon as he finishes his soup to the last tablespoon full, he jumps up, lets out a howl, pounds his chest. I turn and look for Cheetah. Howard's face lights up, is on fire. 'We won! We won $12000, 3 matches on the numbers. Here, Honey, check me out. I look slowly, carefully and jump higher than Howard did. We dance around the table like lunatics. Carolyn finishes her soup and runs with us. 'When do you get your money, Daddy?' she asks. 'Soon, soon as I turn my ticket in and there is no mistake.' To me he says, 'Let's go someplace nice, like Bermuda, far enough away, not too far.' My answer is happy, full of smiles. Carolyn asks, 'When will we go?' Howard and I, in unison say,'You aren't going. Grandma will come here.'

 

The three of us are in line to board the Seawave. Carolyn is carrying her own suitcase plus two geography books. She will study each morning on deck and should be an expert on Russia by the time we come home.

 

Howard and I are pleased she is studying and lock our cabin door.