KIDS

FIFTH MORNING

 

We walk slowly, pace up and down the long tiled floors. There is little we can do except hold tight, pray to whoever, whatever has been programmed into our hearts, believe that our daughter will come back to us, smile again, be the little princess she has longed to be since she received her very first Ginny doll. On hot summer days I played with our Sandy in the cool of the basement. She always took the role of Ginny and I was Ken.

 

The two lovers had bathing suits, dresses, sweaters, everything except one important one, Ken had no suit. Each play afternoon Sandy dressed Ginny in her  wedding gown  and I would top it with a golden crown I made out of foil gift wrap.  Ken she clothed in whatever I could buy for him but suits for boy dolls just weren't made. Whoever would wait on us at Bloomies' told her the same thing each time, the company does not make suits for him, there is too little demand.. He is a sportsman. My little girl was really fussy and begged me over and over to make one for him but just threading a needle is as much as I can do and even for that I must get my bifocals. No question in my mind and Sol's that our daughter was obsessed. We considered taking her to a psychologist but held off, waiting for her to grow out of such nonsense..  I tried hiding both dolls, made up a silly story about the boogie man wanting playmates who took them to his house.

 

Sandy's disappointment, anger at us, turned her away. She ate her meals with us and then run off to sulk in her room. For her sixth birthday, we gave her a lovely party, invited twelve friends who she had stopped seeing. They all brought really nice presents that she opened and closed again right in front of them. I nudged her each time to say 'thanks'. When everyone left, she told me to give the toys and books to poor children.

 

Wailing again, 'Ken needs a suit so he can marry Ginny,' she secluded herself in the basement. I could hear her talking to him, promising soon he would have a suit.' Now and then I came to believe I heard him   answer, 'Good.'

 

Maybe I needed the psychologist. My friend, Mary, suggested Dr. Kilburn who concentrated on me, not Sandy, insisted I talk about my self but every sentence I managed to get out had 'Sandy' in it somewhere. I gave him his $150 and didn't go back. Our little angel grew more solemn, didn't come in from the garden for supper last night. Calling her brought only silence. She was not in anyone's house even though I went to strangers, seniors, teens. Sol hurried home from work. We couldn't find her. The police took her description and would be on the lookout for her. Two days and two nights and there was no word. The police considered she had been abducted.

 

The third night we received a call that Sandy was in All Saint's Hospital. She had evidently fallen or jumped off a workman's ladder and was found unconscious in debris behind rose bushes. The house was empty as the workers were off for the week-end. A Mr. McLaughlin, spotted her, crumpled up in a ball, alive, breathing and found her breathing but unable to speak on Monday morning., but either unable or unwilling to speak to him. He called the police and 911 immediately. A soft spoken police captain notified us they believe Sandy had been found and had been taken to All Saints' hospital on Rhinegold St. Faster than a bolt of greased lightning, we were at Sandy's bedside. The floor nurse told us she did not respond to people but ate her breakfasts, then cried most of the day.

 

I held her sweet little fingers. Sol and I talked to her about getting well so she can come home and play with Ginny. A slight twitch in her hand let me know she heard me. I stayed there all night, the next day and night. Sandy's color improved. She touched my face but still did not speak.

 

Neighbors kept calling, leaving messages, wanting to be there for us. Lois, who lives next door to us, made a great suggestion. 'Why don't you make a wedding suit for Ken? That's what Sandy always cries about.'
'I can't sew,' I reply and get laughed at. ' Here's my seamstress' phone number, Call her. Take Ken over there and she'll make one in five minutes.'

 

What world had I been living in? Where had my brain been?
Before the next morning came, Ken, dressed in his coat and tails, a black cardboard top hat on his head, was in a deep white gift box, wrapped in silver paper, tied with a big blue bow. Sol and I got special permission from the floor nurse to see Sandy before her morning shower and breakfast.

 

'Look, Sandy, darling. Open the box, a special visitor has come to see you. His wife-to-be is in there too. Open it! Open it! Sandy looks a little dazed, says nothing but follows instructions. Sol and I help her untie the ribbon.

 

Shrieks of excitement fly from her mouth, her eyes sparkle. She kisses both dolls. Her first words are 'Thank you. Did they have a lovely wedding?' I describe the imaginary wedding as Sandy drinks her cold orange juice, hugs us, and wants to go home so she can take off Ken's new suit and let him play tennis with his wife.