The Visitor

OH, MY PA PA

 

The thumping on the wooden steps warned me I was in for it. My Aunt Millie most have told my father what I said. Aside from his clumpy feet making such a racket , I could hear his breathing. As once before, I pictured a dragon breathing fire coming to get me. No sense trying to hide from him. I did something bad. The only place is the closet and he knows I'm not dumb enough to try that again.

 

This time I will take him by surprise  and stand perfectly still on the landing at the top of the stairs with my mouth wide open. He won't know what the heck I am doing. His right hand is on the railing. His left has a wrung out wash cloth with Ivory flakes all over it. I am as ready for him as he is for me. I am going to bite a couple of his fat fingers and if he hits me, I'll run away from home. Six more steps and I will be eating soap.

 

Papa seems surprised to see me, actually gives me a wide smile. His trimmed red moustache twitches, makes me laugh but his change does not mean I am safe yet. Softly I ask him, 'What did I do wrong now? Why are you holding that soapy wash cloth? It's dripping on the waxed steps and Momma is going to be mad.' He makes a move towards me and I back away. 'Rosalie,' he never calls me by my full name, Rosalie, except when I am in trouble. I exhale, pull in a deep breath and wait. 'Rosalie, darling. Mother said I left a ring around the bathtub this morning and I have to clean it. So here I am. Want to help me?' I feel better, strong enough to say, 'No, thank you. I am going out to play hopscotch with my friends.' He bows like a servant and lets me pass.

 

The morning is already sweltering. Our hopscotch tournament is moved to around the block where the tall houses leave their shadows on the pavement all day. Even with the shade, the air is hot, muggy. Fuzzy
caterpillars crawl up the gray brick wall. The smell of garbage comes from the back lot. I am the first one to hold my nose and say, 'Phew!'  It's the trigger we need. We pick up our rubber heels, our chalk and walk over to the school yard, where there is a water fountain and swings.  Regular morning disagreements, selecting teams, telling all kinds of fibs about our playmates, and even their parents start our day. Nobody gets angry. No dresses get torn. My mother brings me a large glass container of ice cold orange juice with vanilla ice cream.'She believes it is healthy. Her reason doesn't matter to me. It is cold, delicious and I thank her with a hug. Before she leaves me, I find out why she is here this time. 'Rosalie, come home. Pa Pa wants to see you.' The air around me gets heavy. I start to sweat but take my Mama's hand and walk with her.

 

Pa Pa is in the living room. Aunt Millie is sitting in Pa Pa's favorite chair, a chair I must never sit in. There is a meanness I see ready to come from my Aunt's mouth. Pa Pa stares at me and asks, ' Rosalie. What did you say to your Aunt Millie that got her so angry she had to tell me about it?' 'I don't know, Pa Pa. Ask her.' Pa Pa roars, 'Damn it, I did ask her. She told me she could not say it and I should wash your mouth out with soap.' A bright light goes on in my brain. 'Pa Pa. I remember what I said. I said what YOU just said, 'Damn it.'

 

Pa Pa turns red, almost as red as the sun pouring into the living room, fading the carpet. He laughs so hard his belly shakes and he tells Aunt Millie to keep her damn mouth shut next time she visits.