“Put it on the Tab”
Bam? AAAAAAAAAAAAAH. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH. All the way to the doctor’s office I wailed. Mom looked crazed, driving hunched over the wheel of the ‘48 Ford. Brother was just staring out the window. He wanting to be anywhere but riding in the car with his howling little brother on a perfectly good fishing day, as we made our way to the doctor’s, and me getting all the attention. There was a mounting pain in my shoulder, and a numbness creeping over my left side. Mom looked like she seen a ghost and screaming at brother ‘bout turning around, sitting down and rolling up the window. This was the longest car ride of my life. We once went to Florida but this was longer, definitely.
“No it’s not, idiot.” Said brother twisting his head towards me, spitting out the words through clenched teeth and turning back to stare out the window again.
“Is too.” I spit back, then moaned from the effort and wrenched back to slump in the seat fighting the tears. The front seat. I never get to ride in the front seat.
“Is he going to get ice cream too?” Brother demanded.
Mom ignored the question, just a quick peer in the mirror, rolling her eyes and then looking straight ahead. She pushed the horn button at the only other car on the dirt road. It only chirped like a frightened cricket. Dad had not gotten ‘round to it yet. He hadn’t worked all summer, and neither did the horn. Then mom stopped short to run into the market, I screamed with agony, expecting to die any minute, as the car lurched back and forth. She had jammed the thing in low and switched off too soon causing the engine to buck and cough to a grinding halt. All I could think was; why are we stopping, dad yells when she stops the car that way, and what is in that huge sack she is carrying back? She gently placed the gunnysack on my shoulder. There was a short shot of pain then the cold and wet of smashed ice. No ice cream. Ned stepped out from the country store, squinting from the sun, following mom wanting to help. She twisted the key, stomped on the floor starter and jerked the lever in first. She waved back-handed to Ned yelling, “Thanks, on the tab please”. She sped off a little too quick, spraying Ned with small pebbles and clouding the place with dust. Brother just howled out loud, holding his stomach, bouncing up and down in the back seat, screaming “you got him good, you got him good.” Mom waved again at Ned for some reason, I must have passed out.
__________________________
Dad was slouched in the rocker on the stoop, reading an ancient Field and Stream when we rounded the fence and drove into the back yard. He looked over, never putting down the stupid magazine. He watched for a long time, then went back to reading as Mom slammed the door just to get his attention. It did. He slammed down the publication and stomped inside to get a cool one. Brother was next out of the car fighting off Grover, our mutt, then running off to the creek with Grover nipping at his heals. We named him Rover but dad said ‘you must be kiddin’ and we settled on Grover, a 57-variety type, black and white and fun all over.
Mom came round to my door and helped me down gently and told me to go upstairs and lie down in their bed. “It’s cooler up there.” She knew it would make dad even madder for me to be in their room. Most likely I would stay the night and he would sleep in the garage loft, again. She had phoned him from the doctor’s office and they fought. She told dad she had no choice.
“The damn thing is broken”, she said, and that doc would put it on the tab. She cursed, she was angry and slammed down the phone.
I could not help but think, if the thing was broken, why did Doc Smit break it again, just to fix it? That’s what it felt like so I yelled all I could.
“Sorry he said. Have too, he said.”
I was all strapped all up now with a big knot in the corset and a sling ‘round my neck. My neck was already rubbed raw from trying to get the sling in a sensible position. At least I would have a great place to hide cookies. When I climbed the steps I looked down at brother in the creek splashing Grover and Grover was jumping ‘round in circles snapping at the water drops. Brother sure loved the water. Dad said he was born a tadpole. I wished he stayed one.
Then I saw it. The instrument of my destruction. It was unaware or uncaring that my life as a great football star was snuffed out at such a tender age. Dad had planted that stupid sapling right in the middle of the goal line where we played football nearly every afternoon. Brother loved it. He would tackle me, and laugh, and help me up and tackle me again. But this time I dodged him just right only to slam into that stupid tree. I fell hard just as brother seized the moment, pouncing on top of me to make sure I didn’t get up and run for the goal line. We hit the ground together. Me underneath brother and we both heard the ugly snap. I didn’t get up. I didn’t run. It was just BAM! And AAAAAAAAAAAAH.
I thought I was going to cry again, as I looked at that sapling, not sorry it was broken down. The top part was bent over, dragging in the dirt, splintered bout half way up. Dad stuck his head out the window and barked, “how ya gonna pay for it?”
“Just put it on the tab” I said. He grinned. A little, not much, and took another swig.
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