Wanderlust can
start at any age. Claire sat in the
middle of her bed, looking through the pages of a geographic magazine. She was especially interested in pictures of ostriches,
as she had never seen one in real life, but when you are only five, there are kazillions
of things you haven’t seen.
“Have you ever seen
these funny animals, Clarence? I mean,
in real life?” She nodded at his
reply. “I sure would like to see one up
close. Do they like little girls?”
A flicker of disappointment crossed her face
as she listened to his long answer.
“Ok, I would only
look at them from far away. I don’t like
the smell of chickens or the duck pond either.
But I still want to see them. Can
we? Please?”
Downstairs her
parents heard her chattering. Her
father, David, frowned. “Honestly,
Hannah, this friend of her isn’t a healthy thing. I talked to Dr. Malone at lunch yesterday and
he said she needs more contact with real children.”
Hannah’s tone was
soft. “David, she’s in kindergarten four
hours a day. That’s a lot of contact
with other children. Give her time. She’s only been going there for four weeks,
and she has had Clarence for at least two years. Be patient, Honey, one day he will simply
vanish.”
Upstairs, Claire snuggled down
in her little bed and was asleep in seconds with a smile on her face.
The sun was barely
up when her mother called her to dress and come to breakfast before she missed
the bus. She was careful to put her
show-and-tell treasure in her little backpack and wore it as she ate and ran
for the bus.
The children
looked forward to Friday’s show-and-tell.
Jeffrey showed his new toy car. Cecily displayed a hat her grandmother made
her.
When it was Claire’s turn, she
opened her backpack and removed an object covered in a strange woven, brightly
colored cloth. When she unwrapped the
cloth, there was the biggest egg anyone had ever seen.
“Hush, Class. Claire, what it that?”
“It is a ‘stritch egg
from Africa. I
got it last night. A woman gave me the
cloth to bring it home. See, the tiny
crack here on the side? She said the egg
was empty because it was broken, so there was no baby inside. Nothing to eat either.”
That caused an
outbreak of a dozen little voices around her.
“Yuk, who would want to eat anything like that?”
“What is a ‘stritch?” “Where did you really get it? I know you didn’t go to Africa
last night.”
“Yes, I did. Clarence took me. It was hot and dusty, but everyone was
nice. They were strange people, taller
even than my dad. Even the ladies. The men carried spears. They were all barefoot and had dirty feet
half way up there legs, like mine.” She
bent to pull off one shoe and sock and lifted her pant’s leg. Her classmates all started talking at once
again.
Miss Taylor said, “Come
now, Claire, tell us the truth, where did you get the egg and dirty feet.”
Claire was smart
enough to know it would be best if she said nothing, so that is what she
did. Miss Taylor seemed satisfied that
she hung her head and looked at the floor.
The next
Show-and-Tell day, she had a cloth bag of strange looking seeds, none of which
Miss Taylor could identify. Claire said
she did not know their names, either, but that “my African friends plant them
in their gardens. Some fell off of
trees, too. But it is too hot there,
they prob’ly won’t grow here in Montana.”
Once again, Miss
Taylor questioned her so once again, she hung her head.
Being five, she sometimes did not think
things through. She never though her
nighttime outings with Clarence might result in another such confrontations
with Miss Taylor. Miss Taylor let the
children examine the seeds, and then moved on to the next student.
The third time was
too much for Miss Taylor. When Claire
showed the class a necklace of teeth she said came from a lion, the teacher
went to the intercom on the wall and called the office. Mr. Putman came scurrying into the room on
his short legs like a ferret which the children thought he resembled after
seeing ferrets in a nature book.
Miss
Taylor apprised him of the situation in whispers.
“Claire, it is
time to give up this story about Africa. We all know you were not there last night, or
any other night for that matter. Now is
the time for you to confess where you got these things.”
“Mr. Putman,
everything I told is true. You know I
don’t tell lies, Miss Taylor.”
Mr. Putman’s face
reddened as he looked down on the normally well-behaved child who was actually
one of his favorites.
“Enough of this,
Claire. It is a lie and you know
it. I am calling your parents now. Come with me to the office and we will wait
for them there. And bring those … teeth
or whatever they are.”
She sat outside on
a bench in the hall while her parents were in the principal’s office. When they came out, neither of them said a
word, but Claire could tell they were upset.
Her father was obviously angry, but it turned to bewilderment on the
drive home. He wondered where his
angelic little daughter got the African items.
After a wordless
supper, he calmly asked Claire about them and could he see them. She was delighted to once again to show off
her treasures. Her parents carefully
examined the seeds, the necklace of lion teeth, and the cracked egg in its
strange cloth wrapper.
When he asked
where she got them, she smiled that sweet smile and relied.
“After I went to sleep, Clarence took me on a
trip. I wanted to see the things in the
magazine, so we went there. A-frica, he
said it was. It was hot, even worse than
Missoula in summer. Dry, too, Daddy. Everything was covered with dust and everyone
was barefoot. That was fun at first, but
I wanted to wash my feet before we came home, and there wasn’t any place to
wash them. No bathrooms anywhere. Not even in the chief’s house. All the houses are grassy … I mean, made of
grass.”
Claire always gave
much more information than required, but instead of discouraging her habit,
then time her parents just waited for her to take a couple breathes, before her
mother said, “Tell us about the people,
Claire.”
“The people were
all so nice to me. They liked my hair
and pulled my curls, but it did not hurt.
Clarence said they never have curly hair. Their hair is really short, all black, and
fuzzy, like Mrs. Hotchkiss’s poodly dog.
At first, I didn’t like the kids all being naked, but Clarence said it
was ok, but I tried not to look at the boy’s things. A few of them were long and stuck straight
out but most were curled and wrinkly like Daddy’s was when I saw him getting in
the shower.”
Hannah inhaled sharply and
locked eyes with her husband.
“Some of the
grown-up women didn’t wear bras or even tops at all. Mostly their boobies hung down on their
stomachs. Not like yours, Mama. One lady was screaming and they said she was
having a baby, but I did not want to have anything to do with that. I hate screams.”
A sign of relief from Hannah this time.
“Tell us how you
got to Africa, Claire,” asked her father David.
Claire looked at
her parents thoughtfully.
“Golly-gee,
Daddy. I’m not sure, only that I go to
bed at home and wake up with Clarence in Africa. Do you want to know about the ‘stritch
egg?” Typically Claire, she did not wait
for a reply. “The old chief who is named
Abasi.took me to see the ‘stritch. He
picked me up and carried me on his shoulder away from their camp until he saw
some ‘stritches in the distance. He said
they are Masai ‘stritches, like he is a Masai, whatever that means. He got close as he could … I could even smell
them and they stink … before they ran.
Did you know they are birds but they can’t fly. Ever hear of something so silly? Anyway, he found this egg and said I could
have it.”
“Can you talk to the
people and do they understand you?”
Daddy asked.
"Course they
do. Why wouldn’t they?” Nothing is impossible when you are five.
David shook his
head, “Ok, Claire, tell us about Clarence.”
“I told you
before, didn’t I, Mama? I don’t want to
talk about him again, because you get mad at me.” She hung her head as she always did when
something got out of her control and she needed an escape.
Hannah sighed
again and looked at David and then said, “I think that you had better get your
coat on so Daddy can drive you to school, or you will be late. We can talk about this more later … right
Dear?”
David nodded
absently, but before he could speak, Claire asked, “You guys aren’t mad at me
or anything, are you?”
“No, Darling,”
answered her mother. “Now off with you
both.”
* * * * *
Hannah searched
her little daughter’s bedroom, looking for anything that would give her a clue
… any clue as to this Clarence enmity and how to get his presence out of
Claire’s life. She found nothing but the
two souvenirs and a handful of old geographic magazines. The one featuring the Masai was dated
1955. Is this where Claire imagined she
had been? Hannah gathered the magazines
up and took them downstairs with her, hiding them in the bottom of the wood box
by the fireplace.
After dinner,
Claire yelled down from her bedroom.
“Mama, where are my magazines. I
can’t find them.”
“Yes, Honey, I
took them. They were so old and ratty,
they smelled terrible.”
“That is not true,
Mama. They did not smell bad. Why did you take them? They are mine.” She was yelling and stomping her feet like
spoiled children they had seen in other homes, but their Claire was a docile
child who had never disobeyed them, not once!
“Now stop that,
Claire, this minute. You will not raise your
voice like that again, ever. Do you
understand?” David’s voice was stern and
strong, but it made no impression on the furious child.
“Give them
back. Give them back or you will be
sorry. Give them back.”
Hannah climbed the
stairs as Claire ran into her room, slamming the door. She put a chair under the handle like she had
seen on television, so Hannah could not open it.
“Claire, open this
door. Immediately. I mean it!”
“Not until you give me my magazines back.”
“Well, Little Girl, I am not giving them back, so forget
you ever had them. Now go to bed and
I’ll hear no more about it.”
“Fine. I’ll do that.
We don’t need the magazines to go to Africa. We are going right now and never coming
back.” The light under her door went
off. Hannah stood outside listening to
your daughter cry.
Hannah
called to David to come up and open the door.
It took him little effort to move the chair aside so they could
enter. To their amazement, Claire was
sound asleep, lying on top of her bedding.
Tears glistened on her cheeks, causing lumps to form in bother her
parents’ throats. She looked like a
little angel as always and they covered her up against the Montana
night.
She did not
come down when called for breakfast.
Hannah found her sleeping exactly the way they had left her, s is she
had not moved a muscle. She called
softly to Claire. No reply. She touched, and then shook the girl’s
shoulders. Nothing. She began to yell for David as she realized
her child was limp.
They
wrapped her in a blanket and rushed to the hospital, not taking time to call
her pediatrician.
She was unresponsive
even as they hooked her IV and other monitors to her little body. Several doctors conferred, but none had an explanation. They listened to the parent’s story repeatedly. They called Miss Taylor … she verified the
happenings at school. Dr. Malone were
stymied, but hated to admit it, not wanting the parents anymore stressed than
they were. Claire was healthy in every
way but one … she was unconscious.
Days passed
and still Claire remained the same. On
the eighth morning, a nurse who came to check her IV found the child sitting up
in bed. She asked calmly if she could
please go to the bathroom and take a bath.
The nurse rushed out to contact the doctor, so Claire decided she could
not wait. She carefully pulled off the
tape holding the IV needle in place and slid out of bed.
Her visit
to the bathroom was a relief, but she had a problem getting that bowl hooked to
toilet rim loose so she could dump it to flush.
The nurse heard the flushing sound as she entered the room and rushed
inside to find Claire naked and filthy, ready to take a shower. The nurse could not understand how Claire,
who had not been out of her bed for over a week, could be so dirty … she
herself had washed the child every day.
Her legs and feet were red with dirt and her hair, braided (when did
that happen?) had sticks and weeks in it.
Her neck and arms … even her buttocks … had ground-in grime.
Nurse was
dismayed that she had lost the fecal matter before it went to the lab, but she
was beyond upset at the physical condition of the little girl. Claire stepped into the shower before the
nurse could stop her. She smiled as she
soaped her body and poured shampoo over her hair, rubbing it in as best she
could. The shower was short. She wrapped herself in a towel and raced back
to bed, stopping when she saw how dirty the sheets were. The nurse stared at them in disbelief. Where did it come from?
The doctors
came, her parents came, Miss Taylor came, and finally Claire went home. Her parents did not question her further,
even after the doctor called to say the remains of her bowel movement scraped
from the toilet bowl showed she had been ingesting meats and beans of unknown
origin, when in fact she had been feed only with IVs in her hospital bed.
When they
got home, her daddy carried her up to the bathroom where her mama carefully
brushed out her braids. Hannah filled
the tub with bubble bath, sat on the floor beside Claire, and watched her
daughter playing in the water. “It is so
nice, Mama, to have so much water. All I
had before was some to drink. I sure
like this better.” She lay back in the
water, letting it cover her body. “Will
you shampoo me, please?”
After Claire
was dry, David came in and carried her to bed.
Mama brought several pillows to prop her up. She even had a new pink nightie to wear. Once again, she looked like their little
Claire, all soft and rosy.
“Claire,”
asked her mother, ‘will you make us a promise?”
Claire nodded. “Please promise
you will not go to Africa again. OK?”
Claire
nodded, “I promise.” She snuggled down
in bed as if to sleep. When they were
downstairs, she sat up and listened. She
shook her head, and then listened.
“Wellllllll, I did only promise not to go to Africa. Kangaroo would be nice.” She closed her eyes and drifted to sleep.
THE
PRIZE
I have never hated anyone the way I
hated her. Everyone else seems to adore
her. Her clothes are perfect, her makeup
perfect. She never says a bad word to or
about anyone. She attends church every
Sunday and donates to worthy causes. She
gives to beggars and buys for needy folks. She never misses a birthday or
anniversary. Her parties are the most
fun, her gifts are always the right thing, and she is considered the best catch
in town. She is a paragon of virtue. She makes me sick!
No reason to go into details but revenge is my
goal. Suffice to say nothing is too bad
for her. Her vanity exceeds her
intelligence, so when she entered my “Name the New Nail Color,” it was a sure
thing she would win. At least in my
mind, she would win!
The rules were simple…best name, in
my opinion as the only judge, wins a trip to the place that the name conjures
up in my mind. Capri Coral, Hawaiian
Hibiscus, Tahitian Sunset were entry names but too ordinary. The winning name would be announced when the
product was ready for public consumption.
Bear in mind … I am not a nice
person, have never been, and not averse to selling my soul if necessary to get
what I want.
To arrange a trip for this
winner, that is what I had to do.
Her entry was “Hot Forever” a
perfect name for the destination where she would go. When she disappeared a few days later, I
decided to cancel the contest until she returned. Which was never as she had won a trip to Hell. Before she left for her fate, I told her that
I would be seeing her soon as that is where I am bound. She actually laughed and asked where she
really was going and maybe we could take a trip together.
Her sincere invitation caused me to choke in
anger.
She looked bewildered when the red
shape took her hand and my devilish laughter joined his.
“No matter, Miss Perfect, I was
destined for that end anyway and I will spend it seeing you as miserable as you
made me. Sometimes, something is worth
dying for.”
