Help!

MERCY, MERCY

 

Daddy is waiting for me near the cellar door. He's a smart man but this time, I am smarter. I put on wool sox, leave my slippers in the hallway and sneak down the steps to the landing, stop, stand very still, very quiet. His cough and loud voice calls me again. 'Come down here, my little Chickadee, NOW!' I slip my feet into my new high top tennees and, not caring too much if he hears me or not, run out the front door.CooperationI know he hears me but doesn't chase after me. Mother calls me too. 'Come back in here, Child. Daddy promised me he won't hurt you.' Maybe he will, maybe he won't, I don't know and run around the corner, wait there until my daddy drives away. Whew! That was close.

 

There's a strange taste in my mouth. I spit on the pavement and just see spit. My pal, Shirley, sees me, stops to talk about the geography work we had to do for homework today, She looks at me and asks, 'Why is your mouth bleeding? Did your father hit you?' 'Bleeding?' I ask. 'It's not bleeding. Mom knows I hate it but gave me tomato juice instead of orange for breakfast.' Shirley makes no comment and we walk the rest of the way to school in silence.

 

I don't raise my hand to answer any of Miss Crawford's questions. In fact, I try hard not to open my mouth at all. For weeks I've been teased called 'snaggle tooth' because I ate an apple and lost a tooth. My father tells me he can already see a new one growing in but I can't and can't feel it with my tongue either.

 

My mom has been giving me soup for dinner every night since I lost my tooth and I don't like soup, except chicken soup with noodles. She mostly buys canned soups like green pea, tomato bisque. Celery soup is the worst. She tries but can't make me eat that one. Don't ever tell her but once I found a little bug on the kitchen floor, squashed it and put it in my celery soup. Thank heavens, she emptied the entire pot of soup down the garbage disposal.

 

This is Friday and Friday we always have lamb chops. Those I like a lot but Mom doesn't give me even a baby chop unless, unless I let my daddy take care of my other front tooth. 'It's hanging by a thread. Honest, Child, it will take a second and won't hurt at all. My father took out my top front teeth when I was 7 and look at me now. See how straight and white they are?' Mom gives me a big, big smile and I get her mad. 'White? Mom, you have false teeth.' She drops the subject and my dad takes over. He picks me up as if I were a feather and stands me in the dining room corner. From his pants pocket he shows me a thin piece of string that he ties to the hall door and says, 'Open your mouth now, Daughter, or I will glue it shut forever. That loose tooth is going bye bye before you swallow it.' He is fierce, angry and I know he means business.

 

I drop to the floor, beg him, make crazy promises if only he will let it fall out by itself. His ears are closed. My loose tooth barely knows he is putting a thin string around it. I am so scared. Mom walks in, opens the door to see what is going on and zip-zap my tooth is pulled out of my mouth. It didn't hurt and didn't bleed at all. Daddy tells me to put it in a clean napkin and then under my pillow.'The Tooth Fairy' may visit you during the night so go to bed now. Sleep tight.' I don't and I hear my mom come into my room, tip toe to my bed and stick something under my pillow. I don't move and am sure I'll find at least one dollar, maybe two, under there when I get out of bed.

 

Instead there is an envelop from my Mom AND Dad. She is making a big pot of chicken soup with lots of noodles for tonight and is going to bake a chocolate cake especially for me. There are two one dollar bills folded into a fan that I don't think Dad knows about.