"Ye Gods," she said. "Did I ever say I was. Tell your story-- whatever it is. Who is this when you were little child?"
"The little girl Opal-- that little girl is me. I suppose I should say that little girl is I. But in this day it sounds so-- so-- so like it belongs in your day. Predicate nominative and the such.
MY STORY
It was a fine day. Opal, just turned six years old, was in her
playhouse in the edge of the woods less than a hundred yards from the house but
wonderfully isolated by the thick blackberry bushes. "Op--all," her
mother's voice called. Opal ignored it. She did not want to leave her
playhouse. She was happy here in her refuge, away from the chores, away from
the demands of her mother and father. It
had taken her many hours to get her playhouse just right. She had carefully
marked off three rooms, a kitchen, living room and bedroom, with rocks. A broken
bedspring, dragged with great effort from the dumping heap behind the barn and
covered with dry leaves, made a wonderful bed. An old crate covered with a
burlap bag made a fine sofa for the living room. In her kitchen two broken cups
sat on the plank that served as a table. A hole in the stump of a tree with its
standing rank water made a quite satisfactory cistern.
Opal sat very
still. "Opp--all." She lay back on her bed and looked at the lacy
patches of sky through the tree tops. "Opp--all, where are you? You wanna'
go to the store?"
Quietly she crept
out of her house, circled around the back toward the barn and ran anew into the
woods. "Op--all." Then from a place safely away from her hidden
sanctuary she answered, "I'm comin'." She ran breathlessly to her
mother. "I ran as fast as I could when I heard you call the first time.
What are we goin' to the store for? Can
I get some candy?"
"I'm aimin'
to let you go by yourself. You reckon you git there and back without takin' all
day?"
"All by
myself! I'll run all the way."
"Ain't no
need to run, just walk. And don't you go stoppin' along the way to play.
Especially with them Davenport youngens. Now get some of that grime washed off.
I declare I don't know what you do to get so dirty."
Opal filled the
agate wash pan with water dipped from the water bucket and swished her hands
through the water. The dirt line above her right wrist would never pass her
mother's inspection. She spit on and rubbed it against the back of her
dress.
With the paper
sack her mother gave her clutched tightly in her fist she listened impatiently
to her instructions. "Now you be careful with them eggs, and don't go
runnin'. You might trip and fall down. Tell Fred I need a spool of thread. And,
Opal, don't go dawdlin' along the way. I need that thread to patch Daddy's
overalls."
She hurried down
the hill, past Aunt Rachel's house to the edge of the Snyder farm where she cut
through the woods on the "Snyder Pass". Nobody walked past the Snyder
house alone. In groups with other children to and from school she and Kaye passed
the house. But only after approaching it with extreme caution and then running
as fast as they could until well past it. None of them ever really saw Mr.
Snyder or his boy B.D. Sometimes the drawn green shade on the front door moved,
sending the imaginative children scurrying.
Every child who
had passed this way had his own gruesome description of the face peering out
from that window. Opal, herself, had never seen it, but even if she had she was
not confident enough to trust her own eyes over those of so many who seemed
sure of what they saw. Her mother said it not likely that anyone was at the
door because Mr. Snyder was bedfast with some bad sickness and BD was too busy
taking care of him to take notice. Besides BD was too bashful to be peeking out
of windows, especially at a bunch of nosy youngens. Aunt Rachel, on the other hand, ventured that
it was BD at the window. She further warned that he might be dangerous, and the youngens had better give the house wide
berth.
When she came to
the stream running through "Snyder Pass" she stopped to dangle her
feet in the cool water. It felt good on her sore toe, the one she stubbed the
day before yesterday on the root of a tree in the woods. Daddy said the toe
nail would likely fall off; her mother said it would get festered if she did
not keep it clean. A crawdad crawled lazily backward toward her dangling feet.
She jerked her feet from the water and sat for a while watching. When the
crawdad disappeared under the edge of tall overhanging grass she decided she
had dawdled long enough. If she took too long her mother would never let her go
again.
With her sack of
eggs clutched to her side she went on. A squirrel scurrying up a tree caught
her attention, and gawking at it she stubbed her already sore toe. Her sack of eggs fell to the ground. She did
not have to open the bag to know they were broken.
Tears welled up
immediately and rolled down her cheeks. Tears for her newly hurt and bleeding
toe. Tears for her smashed eggs. Tears for what her mother would say. Tears for
having lost the chance to ever again go the store alone
Ignoring her re-injured
toe she ran as fast as she could through the woods, onto the road to her
grandmother's house. When she arrived Grandma was sitting in her usual
position, in her rocking chair on the front porch. With sobs worthy of her
audience Opal fell against her grandmother's arms.
"Why child,
whatever is the matter?"
"I broke the
eggs, and now I can't get the thread, and I hurt my toe. Mommie's goin' to skin me alive and my toe hurts so
bad."
"Now slow
down a might. Let me see if I got this. Marthie sent you all by yourself to
Fred's for some thread?"
"And give me
three eggs to trade for it, but I stubbed my sore toe-- see how bad it's
bleeding." She held up her toe for Grandma's inspection.
Grandma looked
briefly at the toe, and assessing the real problem she put her shaky arm around
Opal. "And you broke your eggs."
"My toe hurts
so bad. And Mommie's goin' to skin me,
and she won't never let me go the store by myself agin."
Grandma got up
slowly and leaning on her cane she hobbled across the porch and down the steps.
"I reckon it ain't all that bad. I figure maybe we can make it
right."
"But my toe
hurts real bad."
Grandma leaned
down and gently touched the toe which had stopped bleeding. "It ain't too
bad. All you done was knock off a scab. I don't see as how the toe is your
biggest problem right now. Do you? It
seems to me the biggest problem is your eggs. Now you come with me."
Together they went to the henhouse where Grandma gathered four eggs.
"Here," she said. "Them first three is for the thread and this
one's for candy. Now don't you go stopping at the Davenports. You know what
Cordell's like. I swear I don't rightly know what's goin' to become of that youngen."
Grandma tousled Opals hair. "Law child, you got more rats in your hair.
You comb it out when you get home, and I reckon we won't have to tell Marthie
about these eggs."
Fred's store was a
long skinny building, dark from no windows along the shelved sides. On the back wall next to a small dirty window
was the thread and next to it the yard goods. The red checkered bolt Opal
wanted for a dress was still there, but she was not at all sure she would ever
get it. Her mother said as long as they had enough matching feed sacks there
was no need to go spending good money for material. Besides her cousin was
always handing down her leftovers, and how many dresses did one girl
need?"
A big black stove
stood in the middle of the store. Around it, even in the summer, was a ring of
cane bottomed chairs and a green spotted tub filled with sand. Cigarette stubs
stuck out of the sand and it was all brown and foul smelling from the tobacco
juice. But this day the store was empty.
Fred came from a
back room. In one hand he carried a knife; in the other and apple with a coiled
peel hanging all the way to the floor. "Howdy Opal." Looking around
he added, "You here all by yourself?"
"Yeah, Mommie
sent me."
"Your Ma
ailin'?"
"No she's
workin'." Opal gingerly handed her eggs to Fred. She sighed heavily secure
in the knowledge that if the eggs were dropped now it would not be her fault.
"Mommie said send her some thread to patch Daddy's overalls."
Fred not too
gingerly opened the bag, or so it seemed to Opal. "And the other egg is
for candy, I reckon. What kind you want?"
The jars of candy
rowed up on the counter posed an enormous problem. Finally she decided on licorice sticks, three
for an egg. For a long time she held them in her hand. Then one she gobbled
down, and held the other two as the priceless possession they were.
On the way home
she walked confidently past the Davenports. Cordell, two years older than she
and big for his age, was playing at the edge of the road. When he approached
her she quickly tucked her two extra licorice sticks in the sack with the
thread.
Cordell gave her a
searching look, the kind he gave the little kids at school when he was bullying
them. "What's in the sack, Opal?"
"Thread,"
she said and tried to pass him only to have him step directly in front of her.
"I just
bet! Lemma see. I bet you got candy in
there." He grabbed at the sack.
"It's just
thread for patchin' Daddy's overalls. If you don't stop it, I'm goin' to call
you Ma." He snatched at the sack again. Opal screamed, "Bertie--
Bertie, make Cordell leave me alone."
Cordell ran off
calling over his shoulder, "Opal's a chicken, and a ugly scaredy cat to
boot."
Past Grandma's
house, up the road toward the Atkins place she ran. Jeannette and Janann were playing jump rope
in the Harrison yard. Jeannette called to her. "Hey Opal, where're you
goin'? Can you play?"
"I gotta
hurry home. Mommie let me go to the store by myself to git thread for patchin'
Daddy's overalls."
"Did you get
any candy? What's in the sack?" Jeannette, with Janann behind her, ran
into the road.
"Just thread.
I done told you Mommie's gonna patch Daddy's overalls."
"Jump with us
just once. It won't take but a minute," Janann pleaded.
"Just
once." Opal said as she clutched her paper sack to her side.
"The ABC
game. Okay? Apples, peaches, peanut butter, tell us the 'nitials of your
lover," the girls chanted as they threw the rope for Opal. She jumped well and got through the whole
alphabet. But on the second go she
missed on C.
"Cordell,"
Jeannette squealed. "Opal loves Cordell. The rope don't lie. Opal loves Cordell."
Opal stuck out her
tongue. "I hate Cordell. He's mean and dumb and a bully. And besides that
he's ugly."
"Come on
Opal, let us see what you have in the sack." Janann said. "I bet you got some candy in
there."
"No I ain't.
I told you it was thread, and if I get it all dirty Mommie's going to skin me
alive. I gotta go."
Chewing on her
second licorice as she went down the road, through the woods on the
"Snyder Pass", past the broken
eggs which were being attacked by ants, over the stream, past Aunt Rachel's, to the foot of the hill up to her house. She stopped once to remove the remaining
licorice stick from the sack and drop it her dress pocket. It would not do if
Kaye knew she had candy. Not only would Kaye want some of the candy but she
would run right to Mama and tell her. Opal secure in the feeling that she had
hidden her candy and her mishap with the eggs walked slowly up the hill.
Her mother was
sitting stringing beans under the big maple tree in the front yard looking out
over the forested hills in the distance. "I got it Mommie. I got
it." She handed the well crumpled
sack to her mother.
"That's just
fine, Opal." her mother said on inspecting the thread. "You done real
good. You didn't have no trouble gettin' past the Snyder's or Cordell, did
you?"
"No, I didn't
have no trouble at all. Fred asked after
you. He thought you might be ailin', but
I told him you was just workin.'"
"I'm mighty
proud of you, Opal. You're a big help to me. Next time I need you to git me
something from the store you can take an extra egg for candy."
Opal ran off to
her playhouse. Exhausted she dropped
onto her bedspring and leaf bed and began to eat her last licorice. It was
indeed a fine day.
