Bridge to a Distant Star - Carolyn Williford [10]
But the feel-good moment was only that—a moment. For then Maureen felt a familiar tightness shoot through her shoulders and into her neck. Worry wrapped itself around her heart as she recalled her interaction with Colleen. Am I a hypocrite? She couldn’t begin to understand her own thoughts and feelings these days, let alone make sense of Colleen’s motivations. Hurrying to clean up breakfast dishes and then finish getting ready, she mentally decided on a plan of action. Bill’s right. I do need to spend time in prayer about this. But I’m probably overreacting to Colleen, too. The gang will make me feel better in no time, and we’ll be laughing about all this over lunch.
“Mom. You’re gonna make me late for my meeting before school.”
Colleen stood at the door to the garage, one hand on the doorknob, the other gripping the strap of her backpack. She added the classic foot thumping, an impatient tap, tap. Colleen had felt the power of having the upper hand, and she wasn’t about to relinquish it.
Maureen came into the kitchen, Aubrey in tow, just in time to catch Colleen rolling her eyes. “We’re coming right now, Colleen. No need to get upset.”
Colleen flounced down the steps to the car and was heard slamming a door when Maureen discovered that Aubrey not only had Rabbit, but was clutching another stuffed animal, a particularly dirty one that had been left outside in the rain. It was still damp and now smelled of mildew.
“Oh, Aubrey. No. We’re not taking Jonesy Giraffe today.”
Out came the lower lip.
“I don’t have time to argue! Go put it away.” She could hear yet another car door being slammed.
Tears formed and Aubrey pleaded, “But Gramma wants to see him. She wants to see Jonesy going zing, zing, zing.”
The once bright yellow and white giraffe used to move its head in a slow circle to the tune “You Are My Sunshine.” Unfortunately, wear and tear—and the rain, undoubtedly—had taken their toll. The giraffe now played at such a frenetic speed that it sounded like “zing, zing, zing,” and its neck jerked at an equally spastic pace, making him look quite comical. The moldy smell, however, was anything but.
Is it ultimately worth the fight? Maureen asked herself, and then sighed in resignation. “All right. But this is the last time it goes out the door. Agreed?”
Aubrey, mollified, nodded.
Their first stop was Colleen’s middle school, which was fairly well maintained but still had that typical public school look of frugal budgets, too little money for upkeep, and occupation by kids who weren’t into caring for their school. When Maureen pulled over to the curb to drop off Colleen, she called out “Have a good day,” but not too loudly. Maureen had been tolerantly instructed on the proper etiquette for Dropping off Middle Schoolers by Moms. There were several all-important, inviolate Rules, and she wasn’t about to break one of those this morning.
No answer from Colleen, of course, and none was expected. Maureen pulled out, determined to focus on the other events of the day. Aubrey, however, was not to be deterred, yelling “Bye, Collie!” while cheerfully waving Jonesy (doing his zing routine) out the open window. Oblivious to her sister’s retreating back and what it communicated, Aubrey generally ignored all of the Rules.
Next stop was Bill’s parents’ house. They fortunately lived close by and were delighted to watch Aubrey whenever needed—Maureen’s two mornings per week at the shop—plus any other circumstances, like this morning’s VBS meeting. While unbuckling Aubrey from her car seat, Maureen winced again at the giraffe. “You sure you can’t leave Jonesy in the car? Just think—he could ride around with me all day on a road trip. He’d love it.”
Aubrey gave her a withering look that conveyed her mom’s suggestion didn’t even merit a response. Giving her curls a flounce, she climbed down from the car, tucking Rabbit under one arm and Jonesy Giraffe firmly