Twinkles

Dad’s back. I run to give him a hug.

“Dad…!”

I’m too big for him to swoop up but he leans down and hugs back.

“Hi, honey.”

“Hi, Mom.” She’s just returned from a five-day visit with Aunt Irene and Uncle Harry. She’s too dressed up to enter through the back door, but Dad parked in the garage.

“Irene, what did you do to your blouse?” she asks. “And why are you still in your school clothes?”

“My fountain pen leaked. And I was just gonna change.”

“‘Going to,’ not ‘gonna,’ ” my mother says, stripping off her thin kid gloves and heading for the front hall closet.

“How was the plane?” I want to know.

“Golly, it’s wonderful to fly. I lit up a cigarette, read my Redbook, and I’m in Omaha.”

Dad helps her with her coat. She removes the green pillbox from atop her deflating bouffant and sets it on the top shelf.

“Of course, then I lit a cigarette and read a Family Circle and I’m home.”

“What did you bring me?”

“Irene Marie! That is very rude. And I didn’t bring you anything. You’re a big girl now.”

“Our lady sitter likes us better than you. She reads to us and bought us Twinkles. In the storybook package.”

“You know I don’t believe in sugar cereals.”

“But the box is a book! It’s a story.”

“Please go change your clothes. I don’t know how I’m going to get that blouse clean. I wish you’d be more careful.”

“Well, I wish you hadn’t come back…” I surprise myself. It’s true and it’s terrible. A lava of confusion chases me upstairs.

After dinner, Dad draws me aside.

“You hurt your mother very much today.”

I’m dumbfounded. I thought you could only hurt people who cared, I want to say, but I don’t.

“I’m sure you didn’t mean it. Tell her you’re sorry.”

But I did mean it. Dad wants me to lie? Confusing and terrible, too. Integrity notwithstanding, there are times when the truth should not be told.