“Not if I want to keep my job, Bets. We’re bidding on a huge contract and I need this report done on time for the call. . .which will come in a few minutes.”
“What about after the conference call? Can we go then?” Betsy gently massages Dan’s neck and shoulders, humming the jingle advertising of the Delightful Ice Cream Store. She notices more grey in his black hair, especially at the temples and a few more wrinkles around his laugh lines. “Maybe then. Please, hon? I’d really like a cool strawberry ice cream. Mmm. . .delightful. . .just like their ads say. You could use a break too.”
“Where is this place, Bets?” Dan concentrates on his computer screen. “Don't we have ice cream in the freezer?"
"Sure, but it's not home made with fresh fruit.” Betsy waves her hand in the air for effect. “Not the same at all.”
“I want to try this new place I told you about: ‘Delightful Ice Cream.’It just opened up downtown. They make homemade ice cream using fresh fruits named ‘Delightful Strawberry Cream’, ‘Delightful Pineapple Passion’, ‘Delightful Cheery Cherry’, ‘Delightful Blueberry Burst’, ‘Delightful Choc full O Chocolate’,” Betsy says.
“Bets, you could be their marketing director,reciting all the ice cream flavors and humming their catchy jingle.” Just then Dan’s expression changes from annoyance to reluctant persuasion.
“OK,” Dan surrenders. “It’s the ice cream store immediately after the conference call. You’ve convinced me but what about parking? Do they have a parking lot?” He stalls again for more time, eyes glued to the screen.
Betsy brightens. “I don’t think so, but we may get lucky and find a spot.”
“Mmm. Downtown is pretty sparse for parking. I remember the last time I went down to the new hardware store, I ended up driving around for ten minutes waiting for someone to leave and then the space was on the other side of the street. Crossing was a pain in the neck— and dangerous.”
“Oh, we’ll manage. I’ll tell the kids; we’ll be ready in ten minutes.”
“You better make it twenty minutes, these calls usually run longer than intended,” Dan says, but Betsy was already around the corner and springing up the stairs.
“Tracy, Connor, Shelly! Get ready! We’re going for ice cream at the new place downtown!” Betsy rushes down the hall.
“Can’t go,” shouts Connor, “going to shoot hoops. The guys will be here in a few to pick me up.”
“Oh, can’t you go a bit later? I want all of us to try this new place together; like a family outing.”
“Ah, Mom, I’m too old for that stuff.” Connor dismisses the idea, hands on his hips and his almost six foot frame blocking the doorway.
“You’re just fifteen and age shouldn’t interfere with family togetherness,” remarks Betsy. “Come on, Connor,” she cajoles at the same time playfully cuffing his left arm and giving him a hug. He’s getting so tall and broad; she could barely reach his cheek for a kiss. “Wouldn’t you enjoy a nice cool refreshing ice cream, especially today?”
“Can I get the Delightful Razberry Razy?” exclaims a smiling curly blonde Shelly, skipping down the hall towards them, her blue eyes dancing. “My friend Marsha got one last week and she said it was super!” Shelly twirls around in place, squealing and jumping up and down.
“Sure can, kiddo.” Betsy leans down to hug her agreeable eight-year-old. “Anything you want; and your big brother can, too!” Shelly squeals in delight and jumps up on Connor for a piggyback ride. They jog down the hall and out into the back yard, Betsy beaming with maternal pride. Connor is really growing up. Soon he’ll be off to college and on his own. Shelly is so young and innocent, such a joy. Betsy realized how much she misses those precious moments with her family, the togetherness.
She shouts at her oldest daughter’s bedroom door, “Tracy, did you hear? We’re going for ice cream to the new place that just opened up. Tracy, honey, get ready.”
“Not now, Mom, Margie is going to call me. She just got these new neighbors and they have a son who is really hot! I can’t wait to hear all about him. Besides, ice cream is too fattening, especially the home made kind. They use whole milk, and sugar and too many calories. I just can’t eat that stuff, Mom, if I want to fit into my jeans.”
“But it’s OK once in a while,” consoles Betsy. “Don’t you want to cool off with a Delightful Pretty Peachy or Banana Beauty? I’m sure they have low cal. Besides, you have no worries, sweetheart, you look fine in your jeans.”
“Mom… I told you! NO!”
“But I thought the whole family would go. It’s kind of a special treat. Not much fun if we’re all not there to enjoy it,” she pleads, hoping her thirteen year old will change her mind.
“MOM! Stop nagging me! Their ice cream has about a gazillion calories!”
Betsy shrugs in disappointment. Ever since Tracy turned thirteen, she seems so rebellious and irritated. Do all teenagers turn down an offer of home made ice cream? How things have changed. . .oh well, at least Shelly is all for it.
After brushing her hair and stepping gingerly into her new sandals, Betsy yells over her shoulder to Shelly, standing in the doorway. “Want to see if your Dad’s ready?”
“Sure Mom,” exclaims Betsy’s dutiful little daughter. Smiling widely towards her mother and with her task at hand, she rushes down the hall, her blond pony tail bobbing.
Shelly returns in two breathless minutes and blurts out: “Dad said, ‘ten minutes’ ‘n’ meet him in the car with the air conditioning running.”
“OK, sweetie, let’s get some cool water for the dog and I’ll turn off the TV and computer in case that storm comes. After three full days and nights of temperatures near a hundred degrees, we may get that storm they’re predicting. I hope so. . .it is too hot.”
“I’ll close the umbrella and bring in the cushions while I’m out here on the patio,” yells Connor, dribbling the basketball for a neat lay up against the backboard.
“Don’t forget to put the dog inside before he jumps in the car; you know how carsick he gets.”
“Come on Sherlock, in you go.” Connor wrestles the dog inside and locks the door securely. “All done Mom.”
In the car, Betsy starts the motor and turns on the air conditioning to full blast. She and Shelly sing along with KC and the Sunshine Band playing “That’s the way, ahah, ahah, I like it, ahah, ahah.” She imagines a mouthful of smooth strawberry and Shelly pretends to squash some sweet raspberries in her mouth. They clap a high five and smile at each other in anticipation.
Dan finally joins them and raises his eyebrows at Betsy. “It’s only Shelly going?” Betsy just smiles and shakes her head. Slowly they back down the driveway, finally on their way.
At the bottom of the curb, Shelly notices Tracy running to catch up, cell phone at her ear. Hopping in the back seat, she explains, “Connor’s coming too. You can drop him off at the basketball court on the way back. He thought a jolt of ice cream would help his game. I can talk to Margie on my cell and I might get frozen yogurt.”
Betsy smiles, contently. They are all together for this treat. Dan starts singing; “I scream, you scream, we all scream for ICE CREAM!” Everyone joins in. Finally, they are getting into a convivial mood. Betsy sits back, pleased. This will be a fine family outing.
Half way to their destination, stopped at a traffic light, Dan says, “Wait a minute, Betsy, did you bring your wallet? Mine’s in my other pants.”
“What? You must be kidding. My purse is at home on the dining room table!” Betsy gives Dan a sidelong looks-could-kill grimace. A quick check of the compartments and console offer no help. Looking doubtfully towards Connor and Tracy, Betsy asks, “Any of you have money?”
Tracy holds her hands up. “Don’t look at me Mom, my allowance for the next two months is gone!”
Conner says flatly, “I’m broke.”
Shelly has two nickels, a dime and four pennies in her back pocket, including some white lint.
Dan says with authority, “We’ll j
ust turn around, it won’t take long.”
Conner groans, “The guys will be waiting.”
“What if Margie calls?” Tracy fusses, “I can’t talk in here!”
Connor snaps, “You guys talk nonsense anyway. You won’t miss much.”
“Mom, make him stop. He’s always nasty to me and my friends,” blurts Tracy on the verge of tears, punching Connor’s shoulder trying to stop him from messing her hair. Tracy shrieks and tries to push Connor away. Meanwhile, Shelly is caught in the middle of this fight and yells to them, “Behave!”
Dan commands, “Knock it off, you two! Five minutes. That’s all it will take.” Now, on a mission, Dan makes a U turn at the corner to race back home.
Back at the house, Betsy scrambles past the dog, bumps her shin in the doorway and hastily retrieves her purse. They were back on their way in no time, a subdued Connor and Tracy grumbling in the back seat, sitting with their arms folded and staring through their windows. Shelly tries to keep the peace by telling Connor that he might like a Delightful Monster at the Delight. Marsha’s brother got one and said it was awesome. It had chocolate ice cream and nuts with blackberries and lots of chocolate bits. Connor chuckles and ruffles Shelly’s hair in a playful mood.
“Here we are. . .and look, a parking space right out front. I told you we might get lucky,” exclaims Betsy, smiling toward Dan. Everyone scrambles out of the car.
Connor runs ahead up the stairs to open the front door. “It must be stuck,” complains Connor. Dan muscles his way to the handle.
“You’re right, it won’t open,” says Dan, trying to shake loose the lock. “Knock on the door, that’ll get someone’s attention,” he asserts, moving closer to have a look inside. “Hey! No one’s in there!”
“Oh no,” cries a dejected Betsy, pointing to a hand written card, in bold black letters: Closed Due to Power Outage. “I guess the heat wave did cause the power outage they predicted. Dan stamps his foot on the top step, shouting, “Darn, I was so ready for a homemade ice cream.”
Betsy pats his arm. “I know, honey, so am I. That strawberry delight was almost right on the tip of my tongue.” They all look longingly at the doily covered round tables with white chairs and the gleaming polished white counter. Shelly breaks into choking sobs, large teardrops falling down her cheeks. Betsy puts her arm around the slender shoulders of this disappointed little one and hugs her gently.
Heavy dark clouds move in and the brisk wind whips up around them. With heads hanging, the entire family descends the steps and crunches back into the hot car. Hoping to lighten the mood, Dan suggests, “Well, we can always come tomorrow. I want that Blueberry Burst,” he says, smiling at Betsy.
“They’re not open Sunday!” Betsy snaps through clenched teeth. “It’s DOWNTOWN! Everything downtown is closed on Sundays, Danny Boy!” She leans towards Dan’s face, folding her arms tightly over her chest.
“Like,” Dan waves his hands in dismay above the steering wheel, “I’m supposed to know about downtown, Bets!”
“Well, you knew about the hardware store, didn’t you?”
“That’s different!”
Rolling her eyes, Betsy sneers, “Oh, yeah? What’s so different about it, huh? You tell me. I’m waiting!”
Connor slinks down into his seat, adjusts his ear buds, and turns up the volume on his IPOD.
Tracy yells, “Mom, I can’t get Margie on the phone!”
Shelly begins to whimper, “I gotta go to the bathroom!”
“Don’t worry honey, we’ll be home soon,” sooths Dan with great sympathy for his sweet little girl.
“Maybe we can come next weekend, next Saturday,” chirps Dan, still trying.
“I’ll be away at my mother’s, helping her move, remember,” spits Betsy.
“I’m going with Margie’s family to their cottage,” announces Tracy. “And Connor’s got basketball camp.”
Shelly will be at a birthday party all day. Betsy’s heart sank.
“If you hadn’t taken so long with that conference call,” Betsy stews.
“Yeah, and who forgot her purse?” Dan yells; angry at being blamed. “Is it my fault the dang store closed?” Dan pounds the steering wheel for emphasis.
“Keep your voice down,” yells Betsy. “We’re all upset enough already.” Turning her head towards the side window, Betsy stares ahead, smoldering inside. This always happens when I plan a perfectly happy family outing; why do I bother?
They drive along in silence. Large raindrops begin to hit the windshield, increasing in volume, dark clouds roiling overhead. Thunder could be heard rumbling in the distance. The heat wave was finally broken and this storm would bring welcome relief.
“Good thing we brought in the patio furniture,” Shelly says, trying to be cheerful. Staring out of the windows, everyone is lost in their own thoughts, watching the storm clouds darken.
“What a waste of time, I didn’t want to come in the first place. Thanks for nothing, Mom and now my phone won’t work.”
“You never recharge that phone! No wonder it doesn’t work,” Betsy says.
Connor rolls his eyes. “Here we go again.”
Betsy scolds him, “Connor, stay out of it! This doesn’t concern you!”
“What did I do?” He turns to Tracy and smacks the back of her head. “Thanks a lot Traceee! Mom’s mad at me, now!”
“Mom,” cries Tracy, “make him stop!” Just then a bolt of lightning cracks loudly and thunder rumbles. Shelly holds her ears, frightful of the storm. Tracy wraps her arms around her trembling shoulders and Connor pats her head gently and rubs her back.
As soon as Dan parks in the driveway, everyone scrambles into the house trying to avoid the downpour. Dan and Connor head directly to the den to watch a game, Tracy runs to the bathroom to blow dry her hair and Shelly plays her iPOD, silently singing to some tune. Betsy sinks down into the living room sofa and exhales a long sigh.
Rivulets of rain stream down the picture window and the sky grows even darker. Connor passes Betsy in the hall with a bag of chips and a can of coke and comments “Don’t worry about dinner, Mom. Dad and I will get pizza as soon as the rain stops.” Betsy shakes her head “OK” with closed eyes. It’s just like a man to think pizza and a bag of chips will make everything all right. Naturally, Dan would think of his stomach. The storm doesn’t help either. Her bruised ankle starts to throb. Lightning illuminates the sky and more rain pours down. Would it ever end? Police sirens and fire trucks scream in the distance.
Tracy yells down the steps, a towel wrapped around her head. “Hey, Mom, I just talked to Margie and guess what she said? You know the new family who moved in next door?”
“Sure,” Betsy says then she whispers to herself, “The one with the son who’s so hot?”
Tracy continues, “Well, the power went out at their place and they are looking for people to take stuff. Guess what store they own, Mom? Guess! Come on!”
Betsy is in no mood for guessing games. Everything is back to the same old thing. Dan’s on his computer, again. Connor’s watching some game, again. Shelly’s on her iPOD, again, listening to music with her dolls again and Tracy’s in the bathroom and on the phone, AGAIN.
Now Tracy wants to annoy her. “Mom, guess!”
Betsy agrees to play along and mutters to herself, “The hardware store?” She shouts towards Tracy upstairs, “The cell phone recharging store? The ‘don’t worry about my feelings’ store? The ‘family that doesn’t do anything happy together’ store?”
“No. Mom! “It’s that ‘stuff your family into a hot car, forget your purse, turn around and go back, closed on Sunday ice cream store!”
Betsy’s eyes brighten, “Do you mean it’s the Delightful Homemade Ice Cream Store?”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you mom!”
“Will they have Razberry Razy?” Shelly races from her room, running down the stairs and leaping onto the sofa near her mom. Betsy fumbles for her sandals and jumps up to get the car
keys. “Let’s go find out, my delightful little one.”
Marlene Ross has been the director of New Cumberland Library’s Write On group for the past twelve years. She studied Psychology and the Humanities and has traveled extensively in the United States and several countries. She lives in New Cumberland and loves to brag about her six accomplished, talented and very special grandchildren.
MOVING TARGETS
By
Debra A. Varsanyi
Her hands clenched into tight fists as Sarah peered through her apartment window. She watched Nazi soldiers kick a Jewish man and wrap a rope around his waist. Onlookers hollered, “Dirty Jew!” It’s getting worse every day. Will the hatred ever stop?
She flinched when her husband, Richard, touched her cheek. He turned her towards him and brushed her dark curls from her forehead. Worry furrowed her brow.
“Honey, don’t watch,” he said, “I’ll always love and protect you.”
“What if they arrest us? Richard, I want to go to America today! I wish we weren’t in Vienna.”
“Sarah, I’m securing tickets for us. I met with an associate, Joshua, who helps hide and relocate Jews. ”
“I know…you’re doing what you can. But, did you hear the news? The Nazi’s Party decreed Jews must wear yellow Star of David arm bands by next month…we’ll be Moving Targets.”
“Yes, I heard. I wish they would leave us alone. Oh! I almost forgot, my mama’s downstairs waiting for me to bring up her belongings.”
Sarah groaned.
A few minutes later, Esther swung the apartment door open, bustled in and set her purse on the pink Victorian chair that sat resting opposite a brown settee. She settled her small pudgy body into the settee and surveyed the room with impatient eyes.
“Where’s Sarah?” Esther said, banging her cane on the wooden floor.
A Community of Writers Page 16