Gladys

That morning, Gladys pulled on shorts and a tee, then opened her closet. After careful deliberation, she chose a silver taffeta capelet she’d found at Aunt Annie’s Attic. To compensate for wearing clothes designed for third graders, Gladys often wore vintage accessories from the thrift shop. She had a collection of hats, shoes, and costume jewelry that she hoped signaled a sense of style and sophistication. Usually she wouldn’t waste those things on the sprouts, but today she needed a boost.

Before she went downstairs she looked out her window. The tree lawn tree stood innocently in the sun.

Mama had already taken the sprouts outside. In the kitchen, Dada, wearing boots, baggy pants, and goofy suspenders, yawned as he filled his extra-large travel mug with steaming coffee. This summer he’d managed to find work at Crooked River Farm and Village, a re-creation of rural life in the 1800s. He worked in the gift shop, selling hand-dipped candles and stuffed cows and sheep. Setting the top on his mug, he yawned again. Back when he’d worked at the auto plant, Dada was never tired. He was proud. He’d bragged about how they rolled out over eight thousand new cars a day. Eight thousand and they could hardly keep up with the demand! Dada thought he’d work there forever, but instead here he was, forced to wear a hat shaped like an upside down flower pot.

He took one look at Gladys and poured her some coffee, heavy on the cream and sugar.

“Looks like somebody else is having trouble getting started today,” he said, handing it to her. To look more 1800-ish, he’d grown a beard. A terrible mistake if you asked Gladys. Though the hair on his head was thick black curls, the beard came in dark-red and patchy, and even if you loved him, it was impossible to call those bristles attractive.

Plus, it itched. He scratched it now with his wide brown fingers, then clinked her mug with his.

“Thanks for helping Mama. Without you, she’d be in big time trouble.”

On cue, Sophie barreled into the kitchen. Her nose was a snot faucet, and she delicately wiped it on Gladys’s taffeta capelet. Kids with green snot were supposed to stay home. Dada pulled a cloth handkerchief from the pocket of his breeches and swiped Sophie’s revolting nose. He grabbed his mug and took his keys off the hook. When he spoke again, he used his Crooked River Farm and Village voice.

“I fear I’m expected at my establishment, gentle ladies. Would you do me the favor of excusing me?” He tipped his hat, bowed, and left.

Sophie said, “That’s your father.”

Sprouts needed to state facts, even obvious ones, as if to make sure that what was true yesterday still held true today. The world was so new to them, they thought anything could happen anytime. Up could become down, wrong could become right, that man with the kindly face and silly hat might not be Dada but a total stranger.

Through the kitchen door screen, Gladys watched her father kiss Mama goodbye and drive away. Her parents claimed that the moment they met Gladys, they knew they were meant to be a family. But how could they have known? She was only three, younger than Sophie. Barely human yet, hardly even speaking. How could they have known what she’d be like when she had a mind of her own with a million thoughts, and questions she couldn’t answer, and words, lots and lots of words? How could they be sure, back when she was little, that they’d always love her?

The nightmare crept back, giving Gladys a shiver. If she told Mama, her mother would say, It’s just a dream, let it go. Mama was expert at comforting, scattering scary stuff the way little Lily was scattering dandelion fluff now. Starry seeds drifted about, lifting on the breeze.

“Make a wish!” Gladys heard Mama tell Lily. “Wish for something wonderful!”

It was just a dream, but it was Gladys’s dream. She couldn’t share it with Mama. She wasn’t sure why, but she couldn’t. She wouldn’t.

Gladys felt a tug on her capelet. She looked down into nostrils oozing green slime.

“Are you upset?”

“Tissue, Sophie.”

“Don’t keep your upset inside.”

“What?”

“Ms. Suza says that. She’s your mother.”