Manzano High School - Scepter Yearbook (Albuquerque, NM)

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jeremy stared after It a long moment before he plcked up the empty bowl and came Inslde Our eyes met I saId not too convIncIngly Maybe he ll be back tomorrow You bet your sweet lIfe Mama muttered The beach was unendurable If you weren t In the water every moment MIles of sandbars and tepld puddles stretched between shore and water jeremy hIs yellow plastIc tube under hIs arm ran ahead to where the water fInally began way off In the dIstance Stay where we can see you' Mama called after hIm Oh Mama leave hIm alone' Hell be all rlght' Then forcIng a smlle Really why do you worry so much? She unfolded her beach chalr and plunked herself down wIth her back to the sun I m a mother that s why and mothers worry I unfolded my chalr next to hers A shallow brown pool lay before us and we drpped our feet Into It I leaned my head back closed my eyes and llstened to the sounds of summer Do you feel all rIght? I opened my eyes to look at her She had smeared sun cream on her nose In a perfect clown whIte trIangle Imflne I saId Why? She leaned back In her chalr I don t know Nothmg She wanted conversatlon Her lonellness was stIll there so ObVIOUS and I was berng no help at all thIs summer I felt a sudden rush of gullt and searched frantIcally for somethlng to say some neutral topIc somethlng she mlght want to talk about What shall we have for dlnner tonlght? FIsh do you thInk? She brIghtened That s a good Idea FIllet and a DICE cool salad Suddenly she looked toward the waters edge Where IS he? Do you see jeremy? I put my hand over my eyes and squlnted Into the brIl llance A bobbmg flash of yellow told me jeremy was floatIng not too far away In what was probably ankle deepwater There he IS I pOInted See? He sflne She nodded satIsfIed That boy' GIVE hIm an anlmal and he s happy She turned to me a smlle playtng about her lnps He s exactly the way you were at hIs age Re member all those stray cats and dogs you d drag Into the house at every opportunlty? I nodded I remember I Sald I remember how none of them ever got to stay Her words made me remember somethlng else too About that Easter when I was eIght when Papa and Mama and I vIsIted Grandma CraIg She was Mama s mother and we always spent Easter week at her house The sternest of women when she smlled you knew she must really mean It She was Immaculate and that was her claIm to fame A place for everythIng and everythmg even a lIttle granddaughter In IIS place The Monday after Easter Sunday was gray and drrzzly but Papa saId Come Margaret let s go to Maln Street I loved Mann Street because at home In New York we had no place IIke It There were no great masses of peo ple bearIng down on you treadlng on your toes The stores llned up one after another were neatly squared off and In theIr place Look Papa Woolworth s' I led hIm to the InvItIng dlsplay wIndows crammed full of delrghts red pens and blue pencll cases and dolls In gauzy pInk dresses Every Phaethon 2 thIng anyone could ever want In a lIfetIme We went Inslde and began our slow rltual walk up and down the arsles untIl we came to the chIckens One en tIre counter was fIlled wIth them tIny baby chlcks dyed plnk and green to match the Easter eggs they had sup posedly hatched from Squeezed together under huge low hangIng IncubatIon lamps they cackled and squawked and bobbed about In a feathery sea Speechless wlth enchantment I let go of Papa s hand and ran to look to touch Don t touch them llttle gIrl' a saleswoman warned Unless you want to buy Papa came up besIde me He was Smlllng Mama would not be Smlllng She would have taken me by the hand and led me away Papa please just one' I ll take good care of hIm I promIse' He hesItated Well I can t see how such a llttle thIng can do much harm Maybe he stopped agaIn smIlIng down at me Maybe we should get two So they won t be lonely I lrfted my arms to hug hIm Thank you Papa' I love you' That one I ordered the saleswoman That pInk one there And that one the green Yes that s rIght GIVE them fresh water each day and keep them warm she saId placlng them In a cardboard box wIth holes punched In the SIdES The pInk one IS Henny Penny I announced as we rounded the corner to Grandma Cralg s house And the green one IS Chlcken LIttle Oops' Papa exclaImed merrIly The sky IS fallIng' ChIckens' Grandma Cralg shouted In my clean house messy dIrty chIckens' It wont do It just wont o Never had I seen Grandma Cralg so angry I thought at any moment she would explode from the Inslde out the way Mama s pressure cooker once dld Then Papa rarsed hIs VOICE Not much but It was a lot for hIm I promlse you they won t dIrty an Inch of your house' They ll stay In the box theyre so small they couldn t posslbly get out Grandma CraIg shoot her head In the cellar then No' I crIed The lady saId they have to be kept warm' Grandma Crarg glared at me I began to cry See? See what you ve started john? Mama shouted at Papa He looked defeated momentarIly Then Theres a portable heater In the cellar Isnt there? Well use that And we ll put some blankets In thelr box Not my blankets Sald Grandma Cralg All rlght Papa Sald Well use rags then That ought to keep them warm enough No one could thInk of anythIng else to say Good Papa declared Then It s settled He llfted the box and I followed hIm down Into the gloom of the cellar I heard Grandma say to Mama A flre thats what wIll happen Hell start a flre wrth that heater and burn down my house that s what wIll come of all thIs' Grandma Cralg s house remalned untouched by catas trophe for the rematnder of that week whlle my chIcks ' - 1 1 1 ' - Il 1 ll - - - - 1 - 1 ' ,, . ,, . . . . . 1 - 1 . , . , . . 1 - 1 ' 1 , . . . . , , 1 - 1 ll ll - . . , . ll - 1 - ll 1, 1 - - ll , , . . , . I . ' ' . ll ll H Il . , . . ll 1 1 Il 1 1 - - ' Il ' 1 ' ' 1 1 ' I . . . , I, 1 - . ' - Il 1 ' ' 1 . , H . . . ll - Il 11 1 ll . . . , . ,, , . . , . ll 1 - Il - ll ll 1, 1 - - . - - Il 1 - ll ll Il Il - . . . , . . . . , . ,, . , , 1 . , . . ' . . H , , . . . ,, . . . . 1 1 1 1 - ' ll ' ' H ' 1 Il - - - - 1 ll - 1 1 - II . . . ,, . ,, , . . . H H . . ,, . . ,, ll 1 ,, . ,, - Il ll - II - - 1 - ' 1 . . . , , . , . . . - d ln ' 1 1 , . Il - ll - II 1 - ll - ' - ' , . . . . , . . ,, . . . , H . , . . , . . , 1 fl - - 1 - 1 ' 1 - 1 1 - ll 1 - , - 11 1 - - Il II . , . ' H ll ll - ll - Il II - 11 . , . . ' ' ll 1 ll . , , , . 1 - Il 1 , . 1 . . . , , . , , . . . . , . . ,, . , . ' ' ll If ' ' . , , . ' ... ' 1' ' ll ' ll ' ll 1 . , . , . ' Il , . - ll 1 ' ll - - 1 1 1 - ' ' ' ll Il ll - 1 ll , . . 1 ' , ' ' . ll 1 - - 1 - . , . , . . 1 1 , f . . I , ' 1 ll 1 ll - - - - - 11 1 1 - - . . . , , . - 1 ' ' 1 . . .

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Simple Simple People Simple Talk Simple Thoughts Simple Means Simple Ways Simply Confused. ...Randy Mund Looking through curtains wishing they would soon open, for life stands outside. ...Vikijaramillo I heard them speaking But they did not hear themselves. Were they listening? ...Ann Scheibner Che Gilded Cat and Other memories The cat appeared without warning one morning-a scrawny apparition hunching itself silently against the back screen door. jeremy was the first to notice it. His at- tention already wandering from his breakfast, he pointed and exclaimed, Look, Ma! A cat! I turned to look. The cat was pushing its small, triangu- lar face against the screening. Mama, at the sink rinsing the breakfast dishes tshe never could wait for a meal to be over before starting the dishesj, turned too. That's all we need, is a cat, she said, taking up a dish- towel and beginning to wave it at the door. Shoo! No! jeremy shouted. He ran to the door and without opening it, knelt to the cat's level. Hi, he said. Hi, there, pussycat. The cat regarded him with wild unblinking eyes. Hurry and finish your breakfast, Mama said loudly. I want to wash your dish. Look, Margaret-the boy hasn't touched his cereal! jeremy's corn flakes, bloated and soggy now, swam in lazy half circles in the bowl. The familiar queasiness rose in my own throat. Already, at nine in the morning, the air coming in through the screened windows lay thick as a blanket over everything. August. Three weeks of it gone, yet its burdensome weight persisted. Across the street, where the beach wrapped its crescent around the perimeter of the town, I heard the mild lap -lapping of the tide as it too seemed to recede into itself, away from the threatening heat of the day. Leave him alone, jeremy, I said wearily. Finish your milk. I'd like to get an early start for the beach. He did not look up immediately, but when he did, his face was a plea. Please, Mommy, he's thirsty. Can I give him some milk? Mama reached for jeremy's cereal bowl and dashed its half-eaten contents into the sink. You give that cat milk, we'll neverget rid of it! Honestly, I don't know how that boy survives! He eats less than a bird! He's perfectly all right! I said, more sharply than I had intended. I'm not saying he isn't! She held up her hand, her voice rising defensively. I'm just saying a growing boy has to eat! jeremy came to me where I was sitting. He put his head against my abdomen, against the protesting movements of the child within it. Please, Mommy, he begged. The cat's thirsty. His hair under my hand was fine and straight, like my own. Not thick and wavy like Frank's, as I had always as- sumed it would be if our first child was a boy. All right, I said. Pour some milk into a bowl and see if he takes it. Out on the porch, though okay? Thanks, Mom! He hugged me. He was thin, it was true. Seven years old and narrow-boned. You're asking for trouble, Margaret, Mama said. You feed a cat once, you're stuck with it forever. I sighed and stretched my legs out before me. Under the skin little blue discolorations stared up in irregular patterns. Ugly! With jeremy there hadn't been a mark, only a lovely, rounded belly up until the very last. This time it was over all of me-arms, legs, back-a heavy, lumpish pregnancy, with veins and lethargy. I wish it were October, I said now. I wish the whole thing were over with. It'll be here all too soon. What's your hurry? Can't you wait to wash diapers again? I glared at her, ready to scream at her negativism, but the words died in my throat, burned out by the swiftness of their own fury. jeremy opened the door with one cautious hand and set the milk down. The cat backed away at first. Then, in a careful, paw-by-paw progression, it approached the bowl. A long, hard, concentrated lapping ensued, while jeremy sat cross-legged in silent satisfaction, watching. When there was no milk left, the cat sat down, and the light pink tongue began to wash away at the white beard. You liked that, didn't you? jeremy said. He reached out a hand for the first time to pet it. The cat endured this for a matter of seconds before it jumped to its feet and darted down the steps, out of sight.

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thrived. For once I couldn't wait to get back to the city. They'll stay in my room, near the radiator, I told Pa- pa. I'll get them a bigger box when they start tc grow. Papa nodded, but he said nothing. On Saturday, the morning we were to leave for home, the chicks disappeared, box and all. Their corner in the cellar was glaringly empty, the heater had been un- plugged and pushed into its former standing, against the wall. I ran up the cellar steps, tripping once, skinning my knee against the concrete. Where are they? I demand- ed, breathlessly. Oh, Margaret! Mama exclaimed. What have you done? Look at your knee! It's bleeding! My chickens! I demanded, glaring first at Mama, then at Papa, who turned his face away. Where are they? Grandma Craig slapped down the dishcloth she was wielding. I winced at the sharp sound. They died during the night, she said brusquely. My mouth opened but no words came out. I I don't believe you, I said finally. I know how you feel, Mama said. But really, they were too young to be separated from their mother. Where? I began to cry softly. Where did you bury them? Grandma Craig nodded toward the back yard. We put them in the trash can. inthe . . . Before anyone could stop me, I ran outin- to the yard, oblivious to the early morning chill. Not a- ware of anything, really, except the faint, barely audible squawking of baby chicks emanating from the depths of thetrash can. I might have screamed: Idon't remember tearing the lid off the can and scooping out the topmost layers of trash, and then hands were pulling me away. Don't be such a baby! Mama scolded. We have to go back to the city, and there's no time for nonsense! Come, be a good girl, Papa said. We'll be home soon, and then I'Il take you to the movies. I turned, tear-blinded, to face them. I hate you! I shrieked. I wish you were both dead! Mama gasped and said that I had committed a terrible sin, that I should ask God to forgive me at once. But Pa- pa's face grew still and white and he said nothing. Noth- ing at all! During the long train ride home I would not look at them. I stared out the window, now and then catching glimpses of a very small, helpless-looking girl, someone who hated the grownup who was churning about inside. I knew then that my battle against them was undoubt- edly hopeless. They had the power, and that was that. She'll forget all about it by the time she gets married, Mama kept saying on that trip home. By the time she's married it'll all be forgotten. . . Well, I can't take any more of this, Mama said now, startling me. I'm going back to wait for the fish man. That's a good idea, I told her. I'lI be along in a lit- tle whiIe. You'd better come soon, she warned. A person can get sunstroke on a day like this. That boy, well, he's not even wearing a hat to protect his head. I ...All right, Mama, all right! She held up her hand. I was only advising, she said. I watched her walk away, the folded beach chair carried clumsily neath one arm, the backs of her faded blue rub- ber sandals flapping against her chapped heels. She is a lonely old woman now, I told myself. She means no harm. She is a mother. A mother worries, about eating enough, about sunstroke, about drowning. .. Butltoo am a mother. I am not like her, not one bit like her. I look at my son and I see a human being, a per- son in his own right. I care about dignity and truth and self-respect. He came to me then, his body dripping wet, his lips a- might blue. He plopped himself at my feet and leaned his head against my knee. Had enough? He shrugged his shoulders. Why did the cat run away, Mommy? No one knows why animals do the things they do, jeremy. He was hungry and you fed him and he was satis- fied, so he went home. Will he come back? Didn't he like me? He might come back. Sure he liked you! He let you pet him, didn't he? jeremy nodded. Mom, how come we had to have Grandma live with us this summer? I glanced down at him. We didn't have to, dear. We wanted to. She's been awfully lonely since Grandpa died. It's hard for her now without him. Papa had died suddenly in March, on his way to the store for a paper. Thirty-two years, Mama had said over and over. How do you forget? You don't forget, I told her in a comforting gentle tone. f'You adjust. You accept. But you never forget. I held her while she wept, and I was a mother to my moth- er. In May, when Frank and I discussed the probability of renting a shore-cottage, he had said, Look, since I'll be out only on weekends, why don't you ask your mother if she'd like to spend the summer with us? I stared at him, chagrined. He had thought of it first, I hadn't. Good idea, I said. She needs me now. In her need I will be there. But it hadn't turned out that way. She's impossibIe! I complained to Frank each week- end. She practically wants to hand-feed us! Do you know, one day she decided she wanted to wash my un- derwear? When I wouIdn't let her, she sulked for hours! Frank smiled indulgently. Be patient, darling. Sum- mer's almost over. I had begun to count the weeks, the days. Now there was one week left, and on Friday Frank would come to help us load the station wagon. The cat was waiting on the porch the next morning when we filed into the kitchen for breakfast. Cully! jeremy exclaimed in delight. You came back. He went to the refrigerator immediately and poured a bowl of milk. Mama groaned. See? What did I tell you? Now he's even got a name for it! She frowned as the cat greedily lapped up the white liquid. And what kind of name is that anyway? I felt anger rise-a slow, hot-lightening that made my next words staccato. It's a perfectly good name, Mama!