Six Going on Seven, Chapter 1 ~ Elly Ann

It was seven days till her seventh birthday, and seven days till Mother’s Day.

Elly woke early in the morning, as the sun shone in her open window, and breeze blew across her face through the screen.  A mockingbird sang somewhere, backed up by a chorus of other cheeps, tweets and coos from the birds in the woods behind the house.  She was up as soon as she woke, sliding from her bed and straightening her oversized tee shirt with a tug.  The cat rolled over and made a sound of complaint, hooking the moving blankets with her claws.  Elly leaned over the bed and ruffled her gray fur, giving her a kiss between the ears.  Furball had been a present from Dad last year, for Elly’s sixth birthday.  Mom had said she was too young for a pet, but Elly had been asking for a cat for months, so Dad had found one for her anyway.

Elly used the bathroom as quietly as she could, so no one would know she was up already.  She ran the water at a trickle as she washed her hands and face, and told the toilet to “Hush” when she flushed it.  It obeyed, swirling noiselessly instead of making the tornado sounds it did when everyone else used it.

Elly stood before the mirror on the wooden footstool she and her brothers used, staring into a pair of large hazel eyes in a small face framed by a cloud of red hair.  Mom told her it was auburn.  It was red.  Tiny red and brown freckles marched across her nose and cheekbones, but when Elly looked into the mirror the freckles disappeared.  So did the nose, cheekbones, and hair.  Her eyes went dark, changing from hazel to a blue that was almost black, just an instant before they disappeared with the rest of her.

That was her favorite part.

Elly stepped down from the stool and pushed it back under the sink, then she eased the bathroom door open and padded into the living room.  Dad’s dog, a little spotted mutt with Dalmatian somewhere in his distant past, slept on the sofa where Mom said he shouldn’t be.  He twitched in his sleep, but didn’t open his eyes, and wouldn’t have seen her if he had.  Muttface could smell her, but he was so used to smelling without seeing her, that he didn’t really care.

Her parents’ bedroom opened right off of the living room, next to the kitchen doorway.  Elly stopped before the closed door and put her ear to it, listening for any noise of awakeness on the other side.  Her parents couldn’t see her, but the door opening and closing, they could.  When she didn’t hear anything, she quietly entered the room.  Her parents had two windows in their room, watching over the bed in the corner on both sides.  But they were closed and the blinds were down, because Mom couldn’t sleep if they were open or the moonlight shone through.

Elly climbed up on the wooden chest that stood at the end of the bed, and settled down with her legs crossed, to see how her parents were sleeping.  Sometimes they slept on opposite sides of the bed, with their backs to each other.  Sometimes they slept facing each other, and sometimes they slept together in the middle of the bed.  This morning they were together, Dad on his back and Mom sleeping on his shoulder.  Elly felt better seeing them that way; it meant the day would be a good one.  Or the morning, at least.

Elly rested her chin in her hands and glanced at the red numbers on her parents’ bedside clock, as she waited for Mom to wake up.  It was 5:51, and Mom usually had to get up at 6 to go to work on weekdays.  It was Sunday, but she would be up soon anyway, because that’s what she was used to.  She’d let Dad sleep longer, and she’d go make breakfast.  Usually Mom was up and gone to work before Elly and her brothers had to be up for school, and Dad would give them cold cereal or instant oatmeal for breakfast.  But when Mom didn’t have to go to work she would make pancakes, waffles, or eggs with sausage and cinnamon buns.  Elly liked scrambled eggs with lots of cheese, and strips of bacon on the side.

When Mom woke up she opened the blinds and the windows, letting the bird noise and breeze in.  The morning sun didn’t shine as brightly in this room as in Elly’s, but it did make the room lighter.  Mom had hair like an angel; long, golden and curling just like the beautiful women with wings Elly had seen in churches.  Elly watched it glow in the morning light and wished she had gotten even a little of Mom’s gold, instead of all the red.

Mom pulled on the tee shirt and sweat pants she liked to wear around the house, and Elly wondered if she would ever look like her mother did before she put clothes on.  Elly’s friend Maisie, from the second grade, said that when you woke up on your thirteenth birthday, you’d have breasts and a narrow waist and curvy hips, but not a moment sooner.  Thirteen was a lifetime away from six going on seven, and Elly was shaped exactly like a skinny tube from head to foot.

She slid down from the chest as Mom headed for the door.  Mom would put Muttface outside on his rope, threatening awful things if she found him on the sofa one more time.  Then she would go down the hallway and look into her children’s rooms before using the bathroom and going to the kitchen to start breakfast.  Elly tiptoed behind her into the living room, and ran down the hallway while Mom was grumbling at the dog.  She slipped into her room and hopped into the bed, not bothering to tell Furball hush when the cat whined at being disturbed again.  By the time Mom opened the bedroom door Elly was visible, sleeping peacefully, and Furball was awake and hopping down from the bed to demand her morning tuna.

When they left, Elly got out of bed again and followed them.  In the kitchen Furball danced around Mom’s legs and mewed impatiently as she opened a can of tuna.  “You’re so spoiled,” she reminded the cat, scratching her behind the ears as she put breakfast on the floor.  Elly sat on the stool in the corner, where she and her brothers were sent to be quiet when they’d been naughty.  Elly sat in that chair far more than her brothers did, even though they were far naughtier and Mom sent them there more often.  It was a good place to sit and watch, like the chest in the bedroom and the raised hearth in the living room.  Seats with cushions would show when weight was on them, and the rocking chair would move, and the chairs at the kitchen table had to be pulled out first.  Empty, open places were always best.

Mom started making waffles that morning, and Dad came in a little while later.  He had the big Sunday paper in his hands, but he plopped it down at his place on the table before going over by Mom.  He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close, burying his face in her angel hair and saying something that was too muffled for Elly to hear.  She didn’t think she’d like it if anyone did that to her while she was trying to make breakfast, but Mom seemed to like it, and whatever made Mom happy had to be good.  Sometimes Dad sat down and started reading the paper right away, and sometimes he didn’t even get up until after Mom had left for work.

“Russ, stop,” Mom said, in her voice that didn’t mean stop at all.  “I’m making breakfast.”  Dad just kissed the other side of her neck, and Elly sat watching, wondering why they never behaved that way when they knew she or her brothers were around.  They didn’t seem to worry about arguing, or being unhappy, but they only ever seemed this happy when they were alone.  Or thought they were alone.

Dad went back to the paper and Mom continued making waffles.  Elly began to think that everything interesting had already happened, and her mind wandered.  But then Dad looked up from the classifieds and said, “Oh . . . did I mention that Jake and the guys are coming over this afternoon?  Sweetie . . . ” he added quickly as Mom turned around with a sigh.

“Russell, I told you, today I want us all to go to that new church Margaret invited me to, because there’s a picnic afterwards in the afternoon where we can get to know the people and the kids can make some nice friends for a change.”  Mom stood at the counter, holding one batter-covered spoon in the air and resting her other hand on her hip.

“Yeah . . . well, you can take the car, Liseli, I—”

“All of us, Russ, all of us.”  She took a step toward him, wiggling the spoon in time to her words.  She stopped when some batter dripped on her hand.

“Sweetie,” he said, the name he always used when she was upset with him, “if you like the place I’ll go next week, but you usually don’t li—”

“We’ve had this discussion before,” she huffed, putting her back to him.  “I do not enjoy showing up at a new church and being offered ‘counseling for single mothers’ or ‘what to do when your spouse is unsaved’ or some shit—”

“Uh-uh, now that’s not Sunday language,” Dad admonished, trying an innocent smile.  She threw him a look over her shoulder, but said nothing.

Elly wrapped her arms around her drawn up knees, uncomfortable with the silent tension.  Dad stared at the paper as if he was reading it, but he wasn’t, and Mom banged the waffle iron down as if she was putting Dad inside it.  Elly wished they would go back to being happy.

“Look, it’s not a big deal,” Dad finally said, speaking to the china cabinet across from him.  “I’ll go to church with you, and then I’ll come home to help Jake’s band practice while you and the kids are at the picnic, and then I’ll come back and pick you up.  Okay?”

“You’re missing the whole point,” Mom said to the waffle iron.  “Your priorities, Russell, are not what they should be.”

Dad rolled his eyes, letting a barely audible sigh escape.  But Mom heard it and spun around.  “I’m serious.  I’m trying to give the kids the kind of values I never had growing up, and I would at least like you to care about that enough to . . . to care about it!”

“I care,” he leaned back in his chair and spread out his arms.  “I’ve just been to a dozen churches I thought were fine but you didn’t like, so—”

“That’s because you don’t care!  You sleep through the sermons and hum along with the songs and then say ‘fine!’ even if the pastor uses sports as his sermon illustrations!”  Mom waved her hand.

“What’s the matter with that?  People understand sports.”

“Ugh.”  Mom turned around again, crossing her arms.  “I want to find a good church.  With dependable, traditional, family values.”

Dad made a face and mouthed her last sentence along with her, but wisely kept from sighing again.

“Anyway, the whole point in going to the picnic is to get to know the people, which I want you to do, as well.”

“I know as many people as I want to.”  He leaned onto the back legs of the chair.

“You.”  She turned around and stomped over to him.  He looked at the table as she stood over him with her arms still crossed.  “You are 30 years old, and your idea of a Sunday afternoon is hanging out with a bunch of highschoolers in the garage?  I think there’s something a little wrong with that, frankly.”

“He’s my brother.”  Dad looked up.  “He asks me to help out his band, I do it ’cause I’m doing it for him.  That’s all.”

“Jake is seventeen!  You have your own children to raise,” she shot back.  “You can’t pretend to be his father and big brother and best buddy all at once.  And don’t look at me like that because I know that’s what you think you’re doing.”

He shrugged, ignoring most of what she’d said.  “The kids won’t care if I’m at the picnic or not, they’ll be playing with other kids.”

“But I care if you’re there,” she sighed.  They’d been over it so many times.  Elly could guess the way they were going next, and wanted to stop it, if only she could.

Dad didn’t answer and Mom went on, “I’ll be meeting all these couples with their kids and even if they saw you earlier I’ll be alone, and they’ll end up wanting to talk about that elusive husband of mine, and you know how much I hate that.”

“So this is for you, not the kids.”

Mom stiffened.  “Am I less important to you than Jake’s band?”

“I don’t even have to answer that.”  Dad clenched his jaw and refused to meet her eyes.

Elly was clutching her stomach now, tempted to just pop into visibility and shock them into forgetting their argument.  She hated this more than anything.  Usually when Mom made accusations and Dad clenched his jaw the talking part of the argument would end and they’d be stonily silent until sometime, somehow, they just decided to forget about it for a little while.

Mom went back to the waffle iron and opened it, filling the room with golden scent.  The waffles tried to warm the room, but Mom remained cold.  She banged and rattled everything she did, opening and slamming doors and drawers, until she stomped back over to Dad and plopped a plateful of waffles covered with strawberry pie filling and Cool Whip down in front of him, on top of the classifieds.  This was followed by a glass of orange juice that almost sloshed all over the paper when she slammed it down.

“Are you going to get a job this week?” she said as she walked away.

“Maybe.”  He started attacked his waffles with the fork.

Elly fought back a sigh.  And the day had started so well . . . .

Mom poured more batter on the waffle iron, then paced between the refrigerator and stove as Dad ate sullenly.

Say something!

Elly wished that she hadn’t gotten up that morning — she wished she’d stayed in bed and dozed in the sunshine.  But no, when she finally got up they’d be like this anyway, silent and angry, and she wouldn’t know why it was this time, and it would bother her.  But even when she witnessed it she didn’t understand it, and that bothered her.  Just someone say you’re sorry and forget about it.  Please, please, please Mommy let’s not go to church, let’s just stay home.  I don’t want to go to a picnic and meet new kids, lets just stay home and listen to Daddy and Jake and his friends in the garage . . . please . . . .  She didn’t have much hope that it would turn out that way, because even though she wished it and willed it with every inch of her invisible being, Mom rarely was the one to relent or apologize.  And when it came to Dad’s brother, Dad didn’t relent nearly as quickly.

But Mom stopped pacing suddenly and stared at Dad a moment before walking up behind him and slipping her arms around his neck.  Dad tensed, surprised, but she folded her hands over his chest and rested her head on his shoulder.

“What?” Dad asked when she didn’t say anything for a moment.

“Are we a burden to you?” said Mom, quietly in his ear.  Elly slid from the stool and stood by the table, so she could hear.

“No.”  He paused.  “I wish you would stop saying things like that.”

“Sometimes I think you’d really rather be anywhere but here.”

He reached up and held her wrist.  “Not true.”

“You know what week this is.”

“Stop it.”

“I just—”

He pulled her around to look at him.  She broke off and they were both silent, which frustrated Elly.  She couldn’t tell what they were saying when they didn’t talk.  Many times she couldn’t tell even when they did, but this was the worst, when all the answers rested on questions that weren’t going to be asked.

Their argument was over then, in the way it always ended, without really ending. They kissed for a moment as if that resolved everything, though Elly knew it didn’t and everything would just come back again.  Probably even before the day was over.

“So do whatever you want,” Mom said with irony in her voice, straightening.  You always do, Elly could almost hear her add, even though that wasn’t true.

“I’ll go to church with you, then come back here, and then pick you up,” Dad said evenly.

Mom turned away.  “I’m going to go wake up the little monsters.”  Elly didn’t move from her spot near the table.  She glanced at Mom as she left the room, then watched Dad eat for a few moments.  He was looking at his plate, and didn’t see his daughter materialize in front of him.

“’Morning, Daddy,” she said.

He looked up.  “Hey munchkin.  Where’d you come from?”

“Mars.”

“Women are from Venus.”

She shook her head.  “I’m from Mars.”

“Pluto.”

“No, Mars.  I have red hair, redheads are from Mars,” she said, crawling up into his lap and hooking her arms around his neck.

He put his fork down.  “Well, who’s from Pluto, then?”

“You are,” she said, “blackheads are from Pluto.”

“I resent being called a blackhead.”  He tried to look offended.

Elly just giggled.  “And Mommy’s from the sun where all yellowheads come from.”

“Blondes.”

“Yellowheads.”

“Your mom is really more of a redhead.”

“Nope.”  Elly shook her head more vigorously, swishing red hair from side to side.

“Okay, fine.”  He shrugged.  “Mommy’s the sun and I’m hungry.”

Suddenly Elly squeezed his neck and buried her face in his shoulder, muffling out, “I love you Daddy.”

He laughed in surprise, gave her a hug back.  “I love you too, Elly Ann.  What’s the occasion?”

“Nothing.”  She let go and shifted to the side so he could get at his plate.  “Eat before it gets cold.”

“Yes, ma’am.”  He ruffled her hair.  “You hungry, Martian?”

“We don’t eat waffles, we eat humans.”

“I guess I should be scared, then,” he mumbled unconvincingly around his breakfast.

Mom came back into the kitchen, with two tornadoes at her heels.  Marcus and Eric were five and four years of pure screaming, punching, running, wrestling, boogerbrained, boy monstrosity.  They raced around Mom, shouting at each other about would be the first to the table, and made it shake when they ran into it.

“Boys, don’t do that,” said Dad, not very firmly, as he reached out to steady his orange juice.

“There you are.”  Mom stopped and put her hands on her hips.  “Elly, let your father eat his breakfast and go get dressed.”

“Waffles, waffles, we want waffles!” said Marc, clambering into his chair.  Mom helped Eric up onto his phone book and shook her head, at what Elly didn’t know.  Perhaps it was her crazy brothers or her undressed state, but she didn’t ask, sliding from Dad’s lap obediently, leaving the overrun kitchen behind.

She couldn’t crawl into Mom’s lap and hug her, not like she could with Dad.  Mom was just not that way.  She rarely sat down long enough when she was home, and when she did it was usually at her computer, where she didn’t like to be disturbed.

Later she would fashion the ties on the back of Elly’s summer dress in a bow, and comb and braid her hair, but her touch would be light and she would only pat Elly’s head when she was done.  There was never a time, that Elly could remember, when Mom was much for hugging her.  Whenever Elly caught her in a hug, she saw glimpses of the Lost One, and she knew that Mom saw her too.  For Elly it was like catching rainwater in her palms and seeing a rainbow sprout out, and the rainbow was the Lost One’s face, but it wasn’t a face her mother wanted to see.  And Elly didn’t know why.