So what? Sue!

BLAME MAME

 

'I did not!' 'You did, too!' Joanie scratches me and I kick her ankle. 'Stop it, Mamie. That hurt.' We're good friends but don't like each other. We're always fighting about something. Today she extra spilled her sassparilla soda on my new skirt. My mother is going to be furious, probably make me wash and iron it even though she knows I am not a good ironer. I can feel the cold soda go through to my petticoat and guess I'll have to wash that too. 'Ma,' I start to tell her what happened and she shuts me up. 'Don't tell me you spilled something on your own skirt. I know who did it, your friend Mamie. Right?' 'No, Ma, I accidentally bumped into her and her sassparilla. She wants me to pay for it. Do I have to buy her another soda? It cost her 25 cents.'

 

My mother knows a lot of rules. 'No, Joanie darling, not if she purposely spilled her drink on you. But now think about it, why would she do that? I bet her hand slipped or somebody pushed her.' 'Ma, nobody was there except me.' Putting her hand in her apron pocket, she hands me a quarter and tells me to find a new friend. 'I'll wash and iron your skirt for you.' What a nice surprise that is. Quick before my mother takes back the quarter, I drop my skirt on the floor, add my petticoat and run upstairs in my panties.

 

For a few days I do my best to avoid Mamie but feel her hiding behind a tree or in the vestibule of the project house where she, her 2 brothers and parents live. The quarter Ma gave me for Mamie is wrapped in a handkerchief and tied around my wrist for when I see her someplace. A loud 'BOO' scares me. I jump. Mamie is right behind me. Before she has a chance to ask for the twenty five cents, I show it to her in my handkerchief. Like an octopus grabbing a big fish for breakfast, she pulls it out of my hand and puts both things in her pants pocket. I beg her to give the handkerchief back because my aunt Lil gave it to me with a dollar wrapped in it for my birthday. 'It's mine,' I cry. Mamie ignores me.

 

'Let's go to the playground, Joanie. It won't be crowded yet. I'll push you on the swings first. Then you push me.' Why not, I think. Laughing, singing, we hop, skip and jump all the way. The sliding board is wet so she takes my hand and walks me to the seesaw. Mamie weighs about ten pounds more than I do so I refuse to get on with her. Once she held me in the air for a long time, jumped off and let me crash to the hard dirt. My knee was bruised and my wrist hurt so bad, Ma had to use ice on and off it for the entire day. She told me again to stay away from Mamie.'She's nasty, Joanie.' I do for an entire week.

 

Mamie rings my doorbell the next Saturday and asks me to come outside to play cards. She has a new deck. 'Let's play war.' My mom comes in from the kitchen and suggests we play in our living room. 'Girls, it's too windy outside, Your cards will blow away.' Mama brings us each a glass of chocolate milk and goes into the pantry to re-arrange the cans alphabetically, fill in empty spots.

 

I win the first game of War, and the second. Mamie isn't happy and quits. She asks me if we can play in our cellar. I go in the pantry to ask Ma. There is no smile only stern words.' Don't go near Daddy's tools, the furnace, the washing machine, dryer. "What should we play, Mamie?' I ask. Mamie stands up straight, walks around and suggests we are builders and are making this house. We will need a pretend hammer, saw. We can use the white paint cans that your Dad must be finished with by now. 'Mamie, just don't break anything. Don't go near Dad's things!' She makes me the carpenter and she will be the painter. We are good builders and make out we have reached the second floor.
I go to the top of the cellar stairs and tell her to send up the panels for the wall. I hear a loud noise, a crash, almost jump down the steps.

 

Mamie is sitting in the middle of the cellar. White paint is in her hair, on her clothes, on the floor. Ma hears my screams and comes running down the stairs.

 

Mamie is hysterical. 'Mrs.  Collins, my mother and father are going to sue you. That can fell off the top of the pile of paint, opened by itself, and spilled on me and the floor.' My mother sends her out the back door, doesn't even give her any turpentine and tells her to tell her mother not to sue us.

 

Daddy contacts his lawyer. The case will be heard before Christmas.
Mamie and I no longer are friends.