Truth be told, Miriam was terrified of her grandson. When she looked at\u00a0Mikie, she saw a shrunken version of her son.\u00a0A\u00a0brown cowlick\u00a0sat\u00a0straight up on\u00a0his head like a pickaxe.\u00a0The look of a serial killer flashed over his\u00a0eyes when he\u00a0was crossed.\u00a0For Miriam, the pictures in her photo albums\u00a0never aged. Life repeated\u00a0itself\u00a0in a continuous loop.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019ll only be for a weekend,\u201d\u00a0said Wendell.\u00a0He didn\u2019t have the nerve to lower the boom in person. Instead he\u00a0phoned\u00a0his mother\u00a0at home.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s, fine, Wendell,\u00a0click<\/i>,\u00a0that\u2019s fine.\u201d\u00a0It was\u00a06\u00a0o\u2019clock, dinnertime, the time of day when every taped political message,\u00a0consumer\u00a0survey and solicitor\u00a0robo-called\u00a0Miriam\u2019s\u00a0number.\u00a0Miriam wistfully remembered when telephones were simple, when\u00a0all your\u00a0finger had to do was find the right hole and turn the dial.\u00a0Now every\u00a0conversation was punctuated\u00a0by clicks.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe\u2019ll leave\u00a0Miami\u00a0Friday afternoon\u00a0<\/i>and be back Sunday\u00a0click<\/i>.\u00a0Jolene\u2019s making you a\u00a0list.\u00a0<\/i>New York\u2019s\u00a0click<\/i>\u00a0just a phone call away.\u00a0Heather and Glen\u00a0click<\/i>\u00a0are down the street you remember Heather and\u00a0Glen\u00a0…\u201d<\/p>\n
Wendell and Jolene rarely left the\u00a0boy.\u00a0First\u00a0her daughter-in-law\u00a0nursed for two years.\u00a0Then they spent the next two years trying to get\u00a0Mikie\u00a0to sleep in his own bed. The child\u00a0was reading menus at restaurants\u00a0but couldn\u2019t cast his own shadow.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe\u2019ll\u00a0be fine, Wendell. I can take\u00a0click\u00a0<\/i>of a\u00a04-year-old. We\u2019ll be fine.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019ve got to use call waiting, Mother!\u00a0For the love of God use call waiting!\u201d<\/p>\n
Miriam pictured her son\u2019s face reddening, exasperation working its way\u00a0up\u00a0from his starched shirt collar\u00a0to his arched eyebrows.\u00a0\u201cYou press FLASH,\u201d\u00a0boomed Wendell.\u00a0\u201cIt\u2019s that simple. You\u00a0just\u00a0click<\/i>\u00a0press FLASH.\u201d<\/p>\n
Miriam closed her eyes and kneaded the lids with her thumbs.\u00a0\u201cAdd that to the list, Wendell.\u00a0Add that to the list.\u201d<\/p>\n
The list was\u00a010\u00a0pages by\u00a0the time the weekend rolled around. Miriam arrived at Wendell\u2019s home with an overnight\u00a0suitcase\u00a0in one hand and a\u00a0sack\u00a0filled with puzzles and toys in the other.\u00a0Even though Miriam visited her son\u2019s home each week, this was the first time she was asked to babysit overnight.\u00a0Miriam\u00a0wanted to meet the challenge head-on.<\/p>\n
As usual,\u00a0she had sought advice from her best friend. They ate at their usual lunch place at the usual time.\u00a0The\u00a0two elderly women\u00a0sat\u00a0face to face in a booth,\u00a0bookended on each side by piles of sweaters, shopping bags, totes within totes.<\/p>\n
\u201cThe child doesn\u2019t like me,\u201d\u00a0said Miriam.<\/p>\n
Sylvia was a breast cancer survivor.\u00a0Her diet consisted of macrobiotic foods and the occasional pastrami sandwich.\u00a0She\u00a0Facebooked\u00a0all of her grandchildren and prided herself on her computer savvy.<\/p>\n
\u201cOf course he likes\u00a0you.\u00a0It\u2019s just that you\u2019re a\u00a033\u00a0and he\u2019s a\u00a045. Get with the program, Miriam.\u201d<\/p>\n
The past opened like a door.\u00a0As if it were\u00a0yesterday, Miriam pictured\u00a0Wendell\u00a0watching\u00a0the black vinyl disc\u00a0spin on the turntable,\u00a0stepping first on one foot then the other,\u00a0doing\u00a0his own little dance.\u00a0He\u00a0especially\u00a0loved those chipmunks, the ones with the high screechy voices.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s all about Angry Birds,\u201d\u00a0said Sylvia,\u00a0\u201cand Power Rangers and Mutant Ninja Turtles.\u00a0You can kiss Roy Rogers goodbye.\u201d<\/p>\n
Miriam blinked.\u00a0There for\u00a0an instant, for a fleeting moment, was Wendell\u2019s arm sweeping the floor of his cowboys and Indians,\u00a0his\u00a0beloved\u00a0fiefdom of plastic men.<\/p>\n
\u201cIf it doesn\u2019t have a battery,\u201d\u00a0said Sylvia,\u00a0\u201cif it doesn\u2019t light up and make noise and give you a headache, don\u2019t even bother.\u201d<\/p>\n
If Miriam expected to be greeted like Santa Claus, her fantasies were dispelled the\u00a0moment\u00a0she entered Wendell\u2019s house.\u00a0Her grandson\u00a0thrust his head, neck,\u00a0and elbows into the large plastic bag, rummaged around, and came up for air five seconds later.<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t like\u00a0dees\u00a0toys,\u201d\u00a0said\u00a0Mikie.<\/p>\n
Miriam smiled.\u00a0Then she craned her neck to the left and the right, listening.\u00a0Wendell\u2019s car had peeled out\u00a0of\u00a0the driveway. The coast was clear. Slowly she\u00a0reached into her purse and\u00a0retrieved the\u00a0toy\u00a0pistol.<\/p>\n
\u201cThis was your grandfather\u2019s,\u201d\u00a0said Miriam.\u00a0\u201cYou feed the red paper\u00a0in\u00a0here and\u00a0then\u00a0you\u00a0pull back the\u00a0trigger\u00a0…\u201d<\/p>\n
Mikie\u00a0inched closer. He nestled Miriam like a cat, leaning into her body, clutching her blouse with his dimpled hands.\u00a0\u201cCan I touch it?\u201d\u00a0he whispered.<\/p>\n
\u201cOutside, on the sidewalk. This is an outside toy.\u201d<\/p>\n
They practiced for a full hour, aiming at the concrete. The air smelled like burnt toast.\u00a0Wisps\u00a0of smoke curled over their heads.\u00a0Mikie\u00a0jumped each time the gun snapped then just as quickly moved in for another try.\u00a0Soon a parade of toys\u00a0joined\u00a0them.\u00a0Star Wars\u00a0stormtroopers,\u00a0Buzz\u00a0Lightyear, Wreck-it Ralph.\u00a0With two hands clutching the gun,\u00a0Mikie\u00a0pointed the barrel\u00a0and shot every toy figure dead.<\/p>\n
Miriam looked to the left and\u00a0to\u00a0the right but not a single neighbor was in sight.\u00a0She remembered streets filled with children, the ice cream truck drawing them like flies, mothers sitting on lawn chairs, fathers pulling up in driveways dressed in suits and ties. Like all of her memories, they were in black and white.\u00a0Just like the television shows. Sometimes she couldn\u2019t tell if the movies in her head were celluloid or real, the past blurred, the memories\u00a0seeping like a sieve.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s time to put the gun away,\u201d\u00a0said Miriam.\u00a0She took\u00a0Mikie\u2019s\u00a0hand and guided him\u00a0inside\u00a0the house.\u00a0\u201cWe put it back in Grandma\u2019s purse, and tomorrow we take it out again.\u201d<\/p>\n
He opened and closed his mouth like a small fish gasping for air.\u00a0\u201cBut, I like it, Grandma. I\u00a0really like it.\u201d\u00a0Again he leaned\u00a0against her, his cheek rubbing against her leg.<\/p>\n
\u201cThis is our little secret, sweetheart.\u00a0The gun stays with me.\u00a0When you come to my house, you can play with it there.\u201d<\/p>\n
She\u00a0found\u00a0Mikie\u2019s\u00a0favorite\u00a0television\u00a0channel\u00a0and gave\u00a0him\u00a0a bowl of grapes to munch on.\u00a0Then she grabbed both of his elbows and steered him towards the couch.\u00a0\u201cI\u2019ll be right back,\u201d\u00a0she told him.\u00a0\u201cI have to warm up\u00a0dinner.\u201d<\/p>\n
For\u00a0three, maybe\u00a0four\u00a0minutes, her back was turned.\u00a0The child\u00a0was probably\u00a015\u00a0feet away.\u00a0If she pivoted counterclockwise at the sink,\u00a0gazing\u00a0over the counter and past the dinette set,\u00a0she had an\u00a0unobstructed view.\u00a0Miriam\u00a0put the frozen fish\u00a0sticks in the microwave and\u00a0pushed the buttons.\u00a0For three, maybe four minutes, her back was turned.\u00a0But when she\u00a0glanced his way, the couch was empty.<\/p>\n
The TV sang.\u00a0Sunny days sweeping the clouds away.<\/i>\u00a0<\/i><\/p>\n
\u201cMikie, sweetheart, dinner\u2019s almost ready!\u201d<\/p>\n
On my way to where the air is\u00a0<\/i>sweet<\/i>\u00a0<\/i>…<\/i><\/p>\n
\u201cMikie!\u00a0Mikie!\u201d\u00a0she yelled.\u00a0\u201cIt\u2019s time to wash up for supper.\u201d<\/p>\n
She\u00a0sprinted into the den and\u00a0ran her hand over the couch, as if\u00a0the\u00a0touching\u00a0could magically summon her grandson\u2019s bottom.\u00a0It was still warm. In the middle of the cushion was a pancake-size depression, the soft weight of a child\u2019s body pressing down.<\/p>\n
She looked first in the downstairs bathroom, then in the living room.\u00a0Next\u00a0she opened the closet doors.<\/p>\n
\u201cMikie!\u201d\u00a0her voice was louder now, a mix of irritation and fear.\u00a0Fumbling at the locks, once twice three times pulling at the pegs, Miriam\u00a0opened the sliding doors\u00a0onto the patio.\u00a0An uncle, it was\u00a0Mortie\u00a0or Bertie or\u00a0Herbie,\u00a0who could remember the name, had drowned at Coney Island.\u00a0Her parents feared the water, were terrorized by the ocean, tucked her into bed with nightmare stories of\u00a0people found beached on the sand like dead whales.\u00a0The childproof fence was still intact.\u00a0The water\u00a0of the swimming pool\u00a0clear.<\/p>\n
She ran upstairs\u00a0next, opening each door, checking under beds and behind curtains. Her heart\u00a0pounded\u00a0like a drumbeat.\u00a0Mikie\u00a0was nowhere to be found.<\/p>\n
The gun!\u00a0She must have been out of her mind to let him play with the gun!\u00a0She flew downstairs and ran into the guest bedroom. There on the bureau was her purse.\u00a0She poured the contents on the bed and shook it hard until every penny and pen rolled out.\u00a0The toy pistol was gone.<\/p>\n
She opened the front door slowly, whispering a little prayer as daylight inched in.\u00a0Please God<\/i>,<\/i>\u00a0let the child be there. Please God<\/i>,<\/i>\u00a0let the child be on the side<\/i>walk playing with the toy.<\/i>\u00a0She breathed in and out, prolonging the moment of knowing and not knowing, working up the courage to face the sun.<\/p>\n
Her eyes swept the yard, the sidewalk,\u00a0the\u00a0neighbor\u2019s yard to her\u00a0left\u00a0and\u00a0to\u00a0her\u00a0right.\u00a0There was no sign of her grandson.<\/p>\n
Think, Miriam! Think!\u00a0<\/i>She ran inside and glanced at the list\u00a0lying\u00a0on the kitchen counter.\u00a0<\/i>There was a name.\u00a0The name of a neighbor.\u00a0But when\u00a0she lifted the phone from its cradle, the touchpad looked foreign.\u00a0It might as well\u00a0have\u00a0been written in Chinese with TALK\u00a0and\u00a0END in places where they shouldn\u2019t have been\u00a0and buttons,\u00a0endless buttons that seemed totally irrelevant\u00a0\u2014\u00a0why would anyone need so many buttons to make a simple call?\u00a0She\u00a0punched the numbers into the phone,\u00a0but it wouldn\u2019t ring. Instead she heard an electronic beeping, this house was filled with beeping, the doors beeped, computers beeped, appliances beeped, the beeping startling her and tormenting her like a finger poke in the ribs.<\/p>\n
Miriam\u00a0walked back into her bedroom, found her cell phone, and dialed\u00a0911.\u00a0She could hear the blood pulsing through her ears.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019d like to report a\u00a0missing\u00a0child.\u201d<\/p>\n
They put her on hold.\u00a0Beep<\/i>.\u00a0Can I help you?<\/i><\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019d like to report a\u00a0missing\u00a0child.\u201d\u00a0Miriam\u00a0shouted\u00a0into the phone as if the shouting would make them pay attention, would\u00a0make them come faster, would bring\u00a0the child\u00a0who\u00a0had disappeared\u00a0back home.<\/p>\n
How long has he been missing?<\/i>\u00a0someone\u00a0asked.<\/p>\n
She looked at\u00a0her watch.\u00a0\u201cMaybe a half hour,\u201d\u00a0she said.<\/p>\n
They put her on hold again.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat doesn\u2019t qualify as missing, you say?\u201d\u00a0Miriam paced the room, shouting.\u00a0\u201cHave you ever lost a child?\u00a0Do you know what a half hour feels like when you\u2019ve\u00a0lost a child?\u00a0It feels like an eternity,\u201d\u00a0said Miriam.\u00a0\u201cIt feels like a lifetime.\u201d<\/p>\n
Suddenly the image of the Sears building in the Hollywood Mall flashed before her.\u00a0More than\u00a030\u00a0years back. She remembered when that little boy disappeared, the same age as Wendell.\u00a0They had shopped in the store so many times, walking down the same aisles, the\u00a0poor mother\u00a0turning her back for a moment to look at a lamp.\u00a0All it took was a moment.<\/p>\n
Miriam\u00a0hung up and dialed 911 again.\u00a0\u201cThis is Miriam\u00a0Lefkowitz\u00a0and I\u2019m\u00a0having\u00a0a heart attack,\u201d\u00a0she shouted.\u00a0\u201c3272\u00a0Andalusia.\u00a0You better hurry.\u201d\u00a0Then she waited in front of the house.<\/p>\n
Five minutes later a rescue truck pulled into the driveway.\u00a0Miriam stood on the curb and waved\u00a0her arms.\u00a0Two\u00a0people in uniform jumped out of the vehicle.\u00a0A man and a woman.<\/p>\n
\u201cIs someone having a heart attack?\u00a0We heard\u00a0someone\u2019s having a heart attack.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI was\u00a0babysitting my\u00a04-year-old grandson,\u201d\u00a0said Miriam.\u00a0She\u00a0pressed\u00a0her palm to her chest.\u00a0\u201cIt\u2019s been\u00a045\u00a0minutes.\u00a0My hand to God if I don\u2019t find that child I might as well\u00a0be\u00a0dead.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe probably ran to a friend\u2019s house,\u201d\u00a0said the woman.<\/p>\n
\u201cI gave him a\u00a0toy\u00a0gun,\u201d\u00a0said Miriam.\u00a0\u201cHe was playing with a gun.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThe kind of gun that looks real?\u201d\u00a0asked the man.<\/p>\n
Miriam squinted.\u00a0Of course the gun didn\u2019t look real.\u00a0It was small and shiny\u00a0and silver\u00a0with a trail of red paper caps.\u00a0What kind of an idiot would think that it was real?\u00a0She smacked herself on the head.<\/p>\n
The woman\u00a0took to the street\u00a0calling\u00a0Mikie\u2019s\u00a0name as\u00a0she made her\u00a0way down the block.\u00a0The\u00a0man\u00a0walked inside the house with Miriam. Hispanic. Tall. Beefy.\u00a0Someone who couldn\u2019t chase down a kidnapper but could easily tear him apart.<\/p>\n
\u201cLet\u2019s look over the house one more time.\u201d<\/p>\n
Miriam nodded.<\/p>\n
\u201cIf\u00a0we don\u2019t find him in five minutes, it\u2019s time to call his parents.\u201d\u00a0The man looked over first one shoulder\u00a0then the other.\u00a0Then he\u00a0stood up a little straighter and\u00a0raised his voice.\u00a0\u201cDid you hear what I said, Miriam?\u00a0IF WE DON\u2019T FIND HIM IN FIVE MINUTES, HIS PARENTS WILL DEFINITELY FIND OUT.\u201d<\/p>\n
The man went to the kitchen and made a ruckus,\u00a0opening and slamming the\u00a0doors. Then he walked to the staircase,\u00a0stomping his feet so hard the wood floors shook.\u00a0\u201cI\u2019M WALKING UP THE STAIRS NOW, MIRIAM.\u00a0I HATE WALKING UP STAIRS.\u00a0WALKING UP STAIRS MAKES ME REALLY ANGRY. REALLY\u00a0REALLY\u00a0ANGRY.\u201d\u00a0When he got to the foot of the stairs, he\u00a0stood\u00a0like a statue\u00a0and waited.<\/p>\n
The sounds came\u00a0from the powder room.\u00a0The\u00a0squeak of a\u00a0cabinet\u00a0hinge,\u00a0the clink of metal falling onto tile.\u00a0A roll of toilet paper unraveled down the hallway.\u00a0Then a child\u2019s voice.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s me, Grandma!\u201d\u00a0Mikie\u00a0rushed into his grandmother\u2019s arms, buried his face into her lap, and started crying.<\/p>\n
They ate their dinner of fish\u00a0sticks cold and sipped their glasses of water. Miriam had never known\u00a0such relief.\u00a0She was too tired to be\u00a0upset.\u00a0She was too emptied to be mad.<\/p>\n
Mikie\u00a0finished his plate and\u00a0licked his ice cream bowl clean.\u00a0Then he sat and watched Miriam sip her tea.\u00a0She took her time, swallowing hard, savoring each sip,\u00a0willing\u00a0her heartbeat to find a rhythm.<\/p>\n
\u201cWould you like to color with me?\u201d\u00a0asked\u00a0Mikie.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m not a very good artist,\u201d\u00a0said Miriam.<\/p>\n
Mikie\u00a0ran to get his crayons and a pad of drawing paper.\u00a0He\u00a0lay\u00a0them on Miriam\u2019s placemat, looked up at her and waited.<\/p>\n
\u201cWell, I\u00a0do\u00a0know one trick,\u201d\u00a0said Miriam. She took his water glass and traced the bottom.<\/p>\n
\u201cFirst you start with a circle,\u201d\u00a0said Miriam. Then she drew on whiskers, pointy ears, and a tail.\u00a0\u201cNow you have a cat.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMore! More!\u201d\u00a0shouted\u00a0Mikie.<\/p>\n
She thought back and saw their kitchen in Brooklyn, the plastic peeling on the table, an\u00a0icebox, a TV with rabbit ears. There was a child sitting at the table coloring.\u00a0A little girl with skinned knees wearing an\u00a0Annie Oakley hat.\u00a0God,\u00a0how\u00a0she loved that hat.<\/p>\n
\u201cNow you have a dog,\u201d\u00a0said Miriam.\u00a0\u201cNow you have a rabbit.\u201d<\/p>\n
Mikie\u00a0looked up.\u00a0\u201cCan I try?\u201d<\/p>\n
Together they traced the glass, her hand upon his.\u00a0But this time\u00a0when she pulled the glass away, the circle was broken.\u00a0The\u00a0crayon\u00a0curved\u00a0but one end didn\u2019t meet the other.\u00a0In\u00a0seconds,\u00a0Mikie\u2019s\u00a0face reddened and\u00a0his lower lip shook.<\/p>\n
\u201cLet\u2019s see what happens if we follow the line,\u201d\u00a0said Miriam.\u00a0She took the crayon and continued the spiral toward\u00a0its\u00a0center.\u00a0When she finished she added a small head with two tiny antennae.\u00a0\u201cLook what we\u2019ve got now!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s a snail, Grandma! I\u00a0made\u00a0a snail!\u201d<\/p>\n
For the rest of the evening, until it was time for bed, they sat at the table and drew. Wendell and Jolene called. Sylvia checked in to make sure that Miriam was following the program.<\/p>\n
\u201cCouldn\u2019t be better!\u201d\u00a0said Miriam.\u00a0\u201cWe\u2019re having a wonderful time.\u201d<\/p>\n
And when\u00a0they\u00a0woke up in the morning the kitchen was littered with papers.\u00a0Spiral upon spiral.\u00a0Coil upon coil.\u00a0One unfinished circle after another.\u00a0Their\u00a0future lay before\u00a0Miriam\u00a0like a map.\u00a0Clear.\u00a0Unfettered and unencumbered.\u00a0The Milky\u00a0Way in the palm of\u00a0her\u00a0hand.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Truth be told, Miriam was terrified of her grandson. When she looked at\u00a0Mikie, she saw a shrunken version of her son.\u00a0A\u00a0brown cowlick\u00a0sat\u00a0straight up on\u00a0his head like a pickaxe.\u00a0The look of a serial killer flashed over his\u00a0eyes when he\u00a0was crossed.\u00a0For Miriam, the pictures in her photo albums\u00a0never aged. Life repeated\u00a0itself\u00a0in a continuous loop. \u201cIt\u2019ll only be…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-958","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-news"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/googmn.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/958","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/googmn.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/googmn.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/googmn.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/googmn.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=958"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/googmn.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/958\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/googmn.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=958"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/googmn.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=958"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/googmn.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=958"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}