On Zion's Hill

  “Mooomm.”

  “I’m counting Johnny.”

  “But Mom, you promised!”

  “Johneeee! I’m gonna count to five. If you haven’t told this nice young lady what flavor you want, we’re leaving.”

  “One. ..Two…. Can’t you see all those people waiting in line behind us?”

  “But I want maple walnut.”

  “Three…Four…”

  “OK. OK.” He looks up at Angie, “I guess I’ll have chocolate and vanilla mixed. Can you mix chocolate and vanilla on one scoop? That’s all Mom’ll let me have tonight. One scoop. Can you mix’em?”

  “Do you want that on a cone or in a cup?”

  “What kinda cones you got?” Angie holds up the flat waffle bottom and pointy bottom sugar cones. “Mom, which one should I get? Huh? The flat bottom or the pointy bottom? Which one, huh?”

  “Get a cup, Johnny. That’ll be neater and you won’t drip all over your white shirt. If you keep it clean, you can wear it Sunday with that bow tie your Granny got you.”

  “But I want a cone. Mom; you said I can choose.”

  Angie taps her foot, grins her smile, and murmurs, “It’s going to be a long evening.”

  “Will you fix Johnny a single scoop of vanilla and chocolate on…what kind of cone, Johnny?” He points to the pointy cone. “On one of those sugar cones. Thank you.”

  Angie has to take back her nasty thoughts about the impatience of Christians. Those standing in line this evening exhibit the patience of Job. Not even one snarly look and not one snide remark. She thanks the Lord and asks forgiveness. She truly senses His presence helping her calm down as she continues waiting on each kid customer as kindly as she knows is right.

  She hardly notices an hour has passed before the line of youngsters and their parents thins and the tweens make up the bulk of her customers. It’ll be a while before the older teens and singles notice the younger ones have left. They make up the next wave of trying customers.

  On busy nights like this, Angie wishes they had two windows. Grownups without children have lined up in front of Stella. Stella’s just as busy at her area of the window at Angie’s right. Many look over indulgently at the little ones and with relief that they, too, have a choice… not to be in the line behind customers like Johnny. But building a larger, two window ice cream stand is a goal for the future. Tonight, one window and two dippers.

  Once the lines peter out, Stella and Angie drop their scoops in the rinse water now nearly as thick as buttermilk. They’ve had no time to dump the jars in the bucket below the counter and refill them with fresh water. They do that now and then reach into the cooler and pull out Mason jars of cool water. They drink deeply and then wipe their arms. Both are sticky from more than perspiration from the work.

  “Hey, miss. Can we get some service, here? I want a double maricopa!” demands a teenager, her hand on her hip as though she’s been waiting more than half a minute.

  She can see Angie and Stella are busy, but Miss Priss wants to show off for her friends. Angie finds she’s got to paste on a smile again. She’d been feeling pretty good about her change in attitude. Looks like it isn’t really changed, just floating an inch below the surface. It’s bobbing its head above the crest of her emotions, and Angie doesn’t have time to deal with it now. So she fakes it.

  “Sure, honey. What do you want? We’re out of maricopa, though.”

  “No maricopa! I been waiting all day to get me some maricopa. I coulda got me some this afternoon, but noooo. I waited and look what happened?” she postures. “Well, I guess I’ll have me summa that bubble gum. You haven’t sold out of that too, have you? You got any of that left?”

  “Yes, we have bubble gum. You want a cone or a cup? We have these two kinds of cones,” Angie points. The girl decides on the waffle cone, and so begins the next wave of customers. Just as Angie hands her the two scoops and reaches out for the payment, she spots Ken and the woman with him.

  That Lady in Navy, clinging to him like fungus on a tree trunk, leans in close, saying something in his ear. Angie can’t hear, but can imagine. Well! They certainly look chummy. And she thought he wasn’t interested in a serious relationship. They don’t look all that casual from here.

  KEN AND THIA STOP AT ONE OF THE BENCHES and sit down on the edge as though they’ll only be there a couple of minutes.

  Thia whines, “Ken, I thought he’d be here. He said he was coming tonight. That’s why I got all dressed up. My heel was nearly raw from those shoes I wore all day at work today. I wouldn’t have worn these new heels if he wasn’t coming.” Ken just nods.

  “Ken,” she implores and rationalizes, “Do you think something’s the matter? He doesn’t usually stand me up. He must have had to work late. He’s been getting lots of overtime this summer.”

  Ken nods. He’d been through this with Thia before when, just to impress some guy, she’s worn clothes that were not really comfortable.

  “Maybe he tried to call and couldn’t get through. Mom was on the phone all evening talking to Sister Grimsby about Women’s Day. From what I could hear when I was brushing my teeth, Sister Grimsby served in the prayer room and lots of ladies came in for prayer.”

  Ken glared at Thia’s implication that the Sisters are gossipers. She catches the silent question.

  “Oh, no. I don’t think they were betraying any confidences or anything, just talking about the general need for prayer. You know how they get when they feel the Lord is laying folks on their hearts to pray.”

  Ken nods, again. Thia won’t stop talking until she talks through her angst.

  “Melvin is such a sweetheart, Ken,” she croons. “You know he brought me a rose the last time he came. A yellow one. Isn’t that special? I know yellow flowers usually just mean friendship, but Melvin and I are even more than special friends. Most guys get red roses or something like that. But not Melvin. “

  Ken shakes his head and sits back on the bench while Thia talks herself out of this funk.

  “Most guys don’t know that red flowers stand for passionate love. Melvin’s too much of a gentleman to be that bold right now. He really does sweet things. Don’t you think that’s nice, Ken?”

  “Sure. Melvin’s real thoughtful.”

  “He’ll probably stop and get me something this evening. He’ll know I’m pretty upset that he didn’t come. I know he’s probably got a good reason. He’s not the kind of guy to stand up a girl. He knew I could get a ride with you, anyway.”

  “You’re right, Thia,” Ken agrees. “Melvin’s quite a guy. I don’t believe he stood you up either.”

  Thia, pretty much over her snit, slides back on the bench, and using the toe of her left shoe, flicks off the strap of her right shoe. She leans back and pulls Ken closer. He slides over, puts his arm across the back of the bench and pats her on the shoulder.

  “Melvin’ll probably be at the trailer when we get back or will at least have called. It’ll be OK.” He leans down and kisses her forehead. After all, she is his little sister, and they’ve not had much time together this summer…what with their jobs and all.

  ANGIE WATCHES ALL THIS across the shoulders of the customers she serves at the stand. Of course, she can’t hear anything, so she makes assumptions. Not only does he bring another woman with him to the campground, but he flaunts her right in her face. He doesn’t even have the decency to sneak off somewhere out of sight! Well, that’s that! They’re sharing so much personal space. And according to what Angie’d learned in her Psych class last year, they must be a couple.

  ABOUT THIS TIME, KEN IS FED UP. Thia’s started grousing again. “Thia, why don’t I take you on home? You’re tired anyway, and you have to help mom with the canning tomorrow. Let’s get you a cup of ice cream, and we’ll head on home,” he offers, leaning forward to stand up. “I promised Mother that I’d go up to the garden and finish getting the rest of those green beans for her to put up for the winter. I think there’s enough for one more batch before I leave for
school. Anyway, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

  “Ah, Ken. I just want to go home. I’m not in the mood for ice cream tonight. If I was, I’d want some maricopa. They’re all out. I just heard one of those girls say so when the group walked by. If they don’t have any maricopa, I’ll take a pass.” Thia grabs the bench seat and stands up, only to slip down onto his lap.

  “OOOOOweeeee,” she giggles when Ken catches her around her waist and tickles her like he used to do when they were kids. “Stop it, Ken! This is embarrassing. She stands up again. “Ow!” She’s bumped her sore heel and plops down again.

  Angie sees them. She throws over to Stella, “Don’t they have any respect for Zion’s Hill? Can’t they save such indecent behavior for a less public place! My goodness! And I thought he was so mature and all. Well, this is really too much!” Stella’s busy and doesn’t answer.

  Ken and Thia finally get themselves up and begin walking to the car. Ken looks towards the stand and sees Angie. Their eyes meet. He heads that way. Thia drags on his arm. He turns, tells her to wait and looks back at Angie.

  Her icy stare freezes him in his tracks. He stops. Stands. Stares back and questions with his shoulders and upturned palm. Angie clenches her jaw, scowls at him, and abruptly turns to her next customer.

  “Come on, Ken. Let’s go. Melvin’s not gonna wait long. You can introduce me to Angie tomorrow or Saturday. I wanna go on home now.”

  Ken shrugs his shoulders, gives up, and grabs Thia’s hand to assist her walking in those painful high heels. She stumbles, and Ken reaches around her shoulder to keep her from falling. Puzzled at Angie’s freeze gun glare, Ken turns and props up his sister, and they gingerly walk back to the car for the drive back to their trailer. At least Thia has someone who will be glad to see her.

  Angie flicks her shoulder as though to shake Ken out of her life. She goes back to scooping ice cream and wondering why she cares that Ken doesn’t even come over and say hello.

  We’re almost friends aren’t we? What pleasant afternoons they’ve had. Comfortable. Conversational. Congenial. Now look at him. She’s convinced.

  “We had had good times Tuesday and Wednesday.” Comfortable. Conversational. Congenial. Why Angie’s so cool this evening. He’s confabulated.

  Friday

  9 - At the Trailer

  KEN HAS SLEPT POORLY and feels grumpy. He cannot, for the life of him, figure out why that Angela Jeanette seemed so angry. She obviously is upset about something. But what? He shivers remembering the scowl she’d shot across to him. He was just going to introduce her to his sister, but Angie’s icicle darts froze him in his tracks. Women! Who needs them?

  Last night, Thia had been in a tiff, too, jaws all torqued when she learned that Melvin had neither stopped by nor called to explain why he hadn’t come up to the campgrounds. The trailer throbbed with her moodiness the rest of the night. Thankfully, their parents, turning in for the night, hadn’t stayed out in the kitchen area for long.

  Neither did Thia. She stomped down the narrow hallway to her cupboard of a room and swished open her curtain of a door. Clattering shoes and banging drawers testified to her fury. However, one call of “Thiaaa!” from her dad curbed the thrashing around back there. But it didn’t dissipate the disappointment eking from that end of the trailer.

  THIA IS NOT USED TO BEING STOOD UP. She’s always been popular with the guys at church and in high school. Most in her group have tried to date her at one time or the other. Some had even wagered on it. Not with money, but with words. Who’d get her to go out them more than once? She’s always been picky. Rather high maintenance too.

  Melvin doesn’t seem to mind, though. They’ve grown up together. Been in the same Sunday School class since elementary school. He has always liked her, but kept his distance until this past year.

  Though a soft-spoken teddy bear, Melvin has a spine of iron. The other guys don’t much mess with him, now they see he’s made his move. Like a magnet, Thia’s gravitated toward Melvin, and the others guys have just given up. She’s even stopped accepting their calls.

  Now she’s wondering if that had been a good move. Melvin didn’t show up, didn’t stop by, and didn’t call. Ken feels sorrier for Melvin than for Thia. When Thia’s upset, she sends out waves of mad in concentric circles, splashing all who come near her. Maybe Melvin knows this and is keeping his distance. From the tossing and turning he’d heard through the night, Thia’s gotten about as much as sleep as he has.

  HAVING SLEPT VERY LITTLE, Ken decides to get up anyway and go jogging. He rolls off the plank of a bed, returns his bedroom space to its kitchen format, and folds the bedclothes to store in the banquette next to the window. After his years in the Air Force, Ken’s accustomed to living in cramped quarters, but he’s never learned to like it. Here, he has to be up and out of the kitchen before anyone in the family needs the space to fix breakfast or pack a lunch.

  Being home this summer means no privacy. No door he can close. The bathroom doesn’t even work for that. It’s just too small. He grumps, “Hardly enough space to rinse my face after a shave. Every time I bend down I bang my butt against the door.”

  Everyone else in the family at least has a corner to call his or her own. All Ken has is a foot of hanging space in the coat closet, a bin under kitchen banquette, and half a shelf in the bathroom medicine cabinet. True, he’s never had all that many clothes, and he could store his school stuff in a bag on the floor of the closet. Still, there just has never been enough indoor space. No place to kick back and relax. So he’s stayed away until mealtime or bedtime.

  Before he’d left for the Air Force, he’d be playing ball, practicing with the vocal group he sang with, or doing homework at the library. Thank God for the gym and the library. On weekends, he’d spend Saturdays with his real dad’s mother, Gram, and after church on Sundays, with his mother’s mother, Mom Bessie.

  They both had room for him at their places. They’d fix his favorite foods, let him eat as much as he wanted and then they left him alone. Mom Bessie’s house was busier, but he had space where he could sit and watch the Westerns on TV with Bubba, his grandfather.

  Sometimes he’d help Gram with chores around her house. Ken doesn’t even remember her husband. It had always been Gram and Ken. She didn’t even mind when he plinked on her piano. He never learned to play anything all the way through. But it certainly was nice to have a place to play in private.

  His parents had divorced before Ken started kindergarten, and he seldom saw his real dad who lived just across the state line in Ohio. He’d gotten another family, too, and they didn’t have much room in their place either. Ken used to visit in the summer, but never felt at home there. Never.

  Ken’s not sure why he feels alone so much of the time. He lives with his mother, sister, and stepfather, but has always wondered if he really is a member of their family. Their family. Never really his family. Sure, his step-dad has always taken care of Ken’s basic needs for food, clothing, and shelter, but Ken has always known that he is not his real dad.

  Then, while Ken was in the Air Force, his real dad died. So this summer Ken can’t even go spend time with him either. Sometimes he just feels bereft, adrift, fatherless. He’s read about God, the Father. But he can’t understand why Christians get so choked up about that relationship with God. It’s not one of the characteristics of God that really resonates with Ken. Probably because he hasn’t had that warm an experience with either earthly father.

  “Thank you, God,” Ken prays as he gets moving this morning, “for understanding and loving me even though I don’t always understand You. When it’s time, please teach me to be a good father. I want my children to have a good one. I know I’ll love them. I want them to be able to feel it and welcome it.”

  Ken has folded his bedclothes into as neat and tight a bundle as he can, crams them into the left side of the storage bin, and from the right side, pulls out a set of clean underwear, his running shorts and a faded Air Force tee sh
irt. His good shirts and slacks hang military style in his twelve inches of the coat closet. His one pair of dress shoes sits on the floor where he used to store his school bag.

  Ken hears his parents moving around in their cubby hole of a bedroom signaling they’ll be out soon. They’ll want to get into the bathroom and kitchen. They’ll have a couple hours to themselves if he hurries up and gets out of there.

  It’s usually nine or ten o’clock before Thia stirs from her curtained space at the back of the trailer. She seldom is sleeping that long; she just doesn’t emerge till she hears everyone’s been in and out of the bathroom. It’s her way of staying out of the way. But today she’s got to work the early shift.

  The three of them, mother, dad, and Thia, have all fallen into a pattern that works for them, and his being home for the summer has thrown a wrench in the works. But he’s needed a place to stay while he worked this summer. There had been no problem at the beginning of the summer. For those first two months, he’d worked twelve shifts, and then evenings at the gym or the library. Things weren’t so tense then. He usually was the first up and out every day.

  Then, in August, during the two weeks as a youth counselor, he’d been living up on Zion’s Hill in the cabin with his group of young rascals. Being back here this week is proving to be more of a challenge that he’d imagined. But he just has to finish off this week, and then he’ll be back at school.

  Ken completes his morning ritual, stores his toiletries on his half shelf of the medicine cabinet, and hangs his towel and wash cloth on the hooks his stepfather has mounted on the wall. Still the towel usually falls onto the floor two or three times a day as the family members bump around in this yard and a half square space.

  “I can’t imagine how I put up with it before I left for basic training,” he tells the mirror, and then glances down to make certain the sink is clean. Most of his buddies found the barracks crowded and impersonal. Ken found them spacious – a welcome expanse after bunking four years in the kitchen of his family’s trailer. His sneakers are outside. Finished inside, he heads out to get them; he’s going to have to go run off his puzzlement. Maybe the fresh air will wake him up and clarify his thoughts. Yes, and a good run. That should do it.