Chapter 7 - Part 1

Chapter 7 – Sonya

Although I was comfortable in the little craft booth we had requisitioned for our sleeping quarters, I lay awake thinking of what we had been through today. Ken was trying to teach us important things, but I wasn’t sure how well I understood them – not yet anyway. I thought about the principle of integrity. I wondered how my lack of integrity – my lack of emotional honesty -- had hurt my family through the years. I glanced over at Brittney, so precious to me, who had fallen asleep so quickly in this strange place. Her trust in us was so complete that she felt safe even sleeping in a carnival. As I lay looking at her, I remembered a day not many years before on the ball field.

It was an unseasonably warm day in March -- one of those days when the earth holds the promise of spring. A lot of days hold the promise of spring before spring actually blooms around you and they are all exciting, but it’s particularly meaningful in March, because winter has seemed so long that you have stopped believing in the promise of spring. You’ve given up and believe that the world will be cold and dark and frozen forever. Then one day you step out the door braced against the air that has bitten you on every exit for so long – only on this day, it doesn’t bite you. You slowly lift your nose out from the scarf that you had wrapped tightly around you neck and take a breath. First one and then another long and deep. Oh, it’s wonderful. You can smell the earth, you feel the companionship of the air. It really will be warm again!

Of course, first it’s cold again and the weather goes back and forth, but eventually those days of spring keep their promise and summer wraps us up in its vibrant life. I am not so good at winter, so I love spring – the warm days, not the cold ones. On this particular spring day, Sam wanted to take the kids outside to play ball.

It sounded wonderful to me, so we bundled up in nothing but light coats and went out to the still-soggy ball field to let the kids hit the ball. Sam and Tom were throwing the ball back and forth to warm up, starting to throw faster and faster. The ball smacked against their gloves harder and harder. Suddenly, Brittney ran between them to grab the bat that was lying near home base. Sam saw her, but she moved so quickly, he couldn’t completely stop his throw. He was able to slow it down. To this day I don’t know what would have happened if Sam hadn’t been able to slow his pitch. I think we would have lost her.

The ball hit her in the head and knocked her flat. “Brittney!!” Sam yelled and even then it was part outrage and part fear. Sam and Tom both ran to her side. I could only stand paralyzed feeling coldness sweep through my fingers and circle around my heart. I knew I wasn’t breathing. I needed to wait and see if I should.

Brittney sat up almost immediately, though, and my breath came back to me. I know Sam was as glad as I was that Brittney was okay, but he was mad at her, too. Unable to move before, I hurried toward them now. This I needed to try to save Brittney from. “What do you think you were doing young lady?” he hollered at her. “How many times have I told you that a ball field is dangerous? Didn’t you see Tommy and I throwing the ball?”

“I’m okay, Daddy,” Brittney said. “Really. It doesn’t hurt at all.”

My heart sunk in my chest. How could she say it didn’t hurt at all? She was lying – lying about her own pain to keep her out of trouble, but for another reason, too. She was lying because she thought it would protect the rest of us. I knew. I knew exactly what she was doing. How could I not? I had shown her how – never intending for her to imitate me – and yet, that was how it was turning out.

I rushed in. “It’s alright, Sam!” I insisted. “I’ll take her back to the house!”

“Fine!” Sam had said as he threw his arms up in the air. “Let’s all go back to the house!” and he turned around and stormed away.

We never did go back to play ball after that. Not that year or the year after that or the year after that.

**

I woke the next morning and it took me a minute to figure out where I was and why my family was all around me – which was at first a comfort – if I didn’t know where I was, at least the people I cared about were safe and I could see that for sure. Slowly, the carnival and it’s realities came back to me.

I had slept well, warm and comfortable. I did feel stiff, though, from all the hours on the ground. My stomach grumbled and I slipped out of our makeshift bed carefully so as not to awaken anyone still asleep and went to find something to eat. I grabbed an extra blanket to wrap around my shoulders, as the morning was still chilly.

I wandered among the craft booths until I smelled something cooking. It smelled like baked apples and cinnamon. I followed my nose and found the booth run by the Rotary Club. “Fresh Scones” the sign announced in large letters. Again, no one was around. The smell of the food made my stomach rumble louder. I piled several scones onto a plate. Then I poked around some more until I found what was making that delicious apple smell – it was a topping made of cut apples in cinnamon and sauce. Lovely. I piled that into bowls and brought all of it back to the blanket booth to share with the family. First, I left some money, though.

Everyone had awoken while I was gone and they were busy folding blankets and stacking them back in corners. Everyone’s eyes lit up when they saw my loot. Tom had found a large jug of water stored in the booth and our breakfast was complete. I think I even ate a bit more than I should. It was all so good. Even Sam who had obviously choked down our last two meals, seemed to be enjoying this food very much.

As we finished up, we all just sat for a moment enjoying the feeling of being full and not having anywhere we had to be. “Well,” Sam said at last, “I guess we had better get going and see what else there is to see in this carnival. Hopefully, we won’t fall into any more rivers. That has to be the worst that could happen to us and we’ve got that part done.” With that he slapped his knees and stood up. We all followed suit and started filing out of the craft booth.

I came out last and Sam said, “Leave that here, Sonya. We can’t afford to buy anything else.” I looked down in surprise. I had forgotten about the blanket I had thrown around my shoulders when I first got up that morning. The good morning crumpled around me. Why did he always have to treat me like a child? Especially in front of our own children? Why couldn’t he just remind me about the blanket or better yet, ask me if I would like to keep it? Why don’t I get to have a voice?