It was summer. Liza was still little, maybe seven months old. We were having a family dinner on the front lawn like regular red-necks. (If we all get together there are 23 of us and we can't really all fit into the house and it's so nice to eat outside--that's my excuse and I'm sticking to it. There are no derelict cars, abandoned in tall weeds. I promise. Perhaps we are only pseudo-red-necks.)
Taylor, Sharee, Austin and Bailey piled out of their car. All doors were slammed. No one looked back, as if a baby was there. They just came to the table for "how-de-do's" and hugs.
"Where's Liza?" I said.
Taylor looked at Sharee and Sharee looked at Taylor. All the blood drained out of both their faces. Their eyes widened. I could see the whites all around their pupils.
"Oh, no. We left her at home, in the carport," one of them said in a horrified whisper. They both turned toward the car. One was fumbling with the keys. The other stumbled in haste, "Hurry," they said in unison.
I will never forgive them. Never.
They stopped, they leaned against each other, laughing hysterically.
Hysterical laughter is never, I repeat, never attractive. They laugh to this day. Not hysterically but in a kind of smirky sort of way. They think it is funny that I believed they would leave Liza in the carport. She, of course, was asleep in her car seat. In the car.
It wasn't funny. They owe me. Those unattractively hysterical laughing people owe me. They really do
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5 comments:
Auntie,
If you don't watch out, your posts are going to put me in labor!
I can totally see Taylor and Sharee playing it up - and you falling for it!
Love you,
Lisa
PS - you misspelled Liza in the title!
Cute story, it reminds me of when we teased my grandma by leaving my baby sister (who she hadn't met yet) on the door step, after ringing the doorbell, like an abadoned child.
When my son was about 3 years old, his loving caring protective mother and father got into the "He's with you" "No, he's with you routine." Panic mode. She was putting groceries away after shopping and I was repairing the deck.
We frantically searched. He was gone.
A neighbour brought him back. He had gone for a walk trying to get to his friend's house a couple of houses away but got lost. The thing is he crossed the busiest street in town right after highschool got out.
Dozens and dozens of hormonally enriched teenagers in over-powered cars.
Lisa, thanks for the spelling head's up. You let me know when you are ready to have that baby and I'll tell you my wooden leg story.
Sarah, I hope you are going to write that story for our PH GROUP.
Ekim, And that is why the angels are overworked. We had a family who did things like that, not once, like you did, by mistake, but dozens of times a week, by stupidity or nonchalance or something--we never could figure it out. We ALL felt safe because we knew there were armies of angels, watching after those children and we know they would be around in case any of our children needed them. Their kids were always protected. It was amazing.
I am so glad your boy was safe! Amazing story. Do you have these stories written down? You are welcome to come to our personal history group. Might be a bit of a drive...
DO NOT! I REPEAT, DO NOT tell the wooden leg story. I will no longer be yfc Well that is not true I will be yfc but your ranking as my favorite mother, well... thatllbeall
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