Page 19

CHAPTER 19

A LOVED LITTLE GIRL

One Minute

Five more minutes.

The usual ask once the alarm blares

Its monstrous cry to leave the dreams for a reality less sweet.

Five more minutes…

It seems too much when I’d settle for one.

One to relive the love, the warmth, the joy of being a child well loved.

One to hear sweet voices dripping with nectar to nourish my heart.

One to see my likeness in glossy golden orbs filled with warmth no fire can replicate.

One minute to live a life I’ll never have but yearn for after waking.

— JANINE MCFARLANE

Creative Gifts

D ark clouds obscured the sky long before the sun set and the moon took refuge behind the dark canopy. Rain was inevitable, but for the passengers of the BMW X5, the weather wasn’t their immediate concern.

“Daddy,” the little Black girl sitting in the car seat behind the driver called out. “There’s a weird noise.”

The man turned down the radio he and his wife were singing along to and listened for the noise his daughter warned him about. An odd sound from a wheel came and went. While trying to identify the exact location, he jerked the steering wheel.

“Dammit,” he cursed.

“Honey? Something wrong?” his wife asked.

“I’m not sure. The car’s not riding as smoothly as it should. I thought it was because the road was just bad, but now with the sound Yolanda heard, I’m not so sure.”

“Well, if it isn’t the road, what else could it be?” Her tension filled the car, and the man rushed to reassure her.

“It’s probably the tire. I could have driven over a nail or something that’s causing a slow leak. Don’t worry, there’s a gas station about five miles ahead. If I’m right, I’ve got what we need to get back on the road and on the way home in no time.”

“I hope that’s what it is. I don’t like the look of the weather and wouldn’t like to be stranded this far away from home.”

The husband reached across the gearshift to cup his wife’s knee and give her a reassuring squeeze.

Soon, the neon light from the gas station served as a beacon, drawing them to the relative safety of a public structure.

“Mommy, I’m thirsty,” the little girl with the afro puffs said when the car stopped near the convenience store in front of the gas pumps.

Other than their car, there was a panel van at the pump, but the driver was absent.

“What’re you gonna give me to pay for a drink?”

The little girl paused to think, then a big smile spread her lips wide, exposing her chipped front tooth. “A googolplex of hugs.”

“A googolplex? That sounds like a lot of hugs.”

“Objectively, a googolplex is the largest denomination of numbers within bounds the human mind can understand. Although physically impossible to complete in a lifetime, I contend Mommy’s time is worth it.”

“Hey! Don’t I rate at least one hug? I drive you around wherever you need to go,” the father said, feigning outrage and ignoring his daughter’s demonstration of her genius.

The little girl giggled, then whispered, “You get a sextillion kisses.”

“That’s more like it,” he said.

The mom rolled her eyes and unbuckled her seat belt. “Sounds like favoritism to me. You always get the good stuff.”

He leaned over to her ear. “And I always give you the even better stuff.”

She playfully pushed him away with a laugh and a shake of her head. “Do you need anything, honey?”

“Just some sugar before you go.”

The little girl in the back seat watched in awe as her parents lovingly kissed each other. Only the harsh honk from the dad accidentally leaning against the steering wheel caused them to jump apart.

The mother wiped the traces of her lipstick from his mouth.

“Hurry back, now,” he said.

“Yes, mommy. Hurry back. It’s already past my bedtime. I need my beauty sleep if I want to be fresh as spring for my first day at my new school.”

“Where does she get that?” he asked.

“Don’t ask me, that’s your daughter.” The mom left the car before another smart comment from father or daughter stopped her.

“Alright pumpkin pop, you want to help daddy fix the car?”

“Okay, but remember my hands are delicate.” The little girl raises her hands that put the lie to her words.

Calluses harden her palms and fingertips from her many outdoor activities. And no matter how many scrubbings her mother subjected her to, a slight discoloration lined the edges of her nails.

“Uh-huh,” the father said and exited the door.

The little girl released the safety belt from her car seat and followed behind her father as he checked each tire. While assessing the last tire on the passenger side, he found the source of the car’s noise and wobbly steering. From the trunk, he removed the tools he needed to pull off the tire.

“Pumpkin pop, you know the little green box I keep in the back row?” At her blank look, he shook his head. “There’s a green box in the back row of the car, can you get it for me? The sooner you do, the sooner you get that beauty sleep you said you needed.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “What currency are you going to pay me?”

“Currency? I’ll give you some currency.” He grabbed his daughter around the waist, raising her above the ground to blow raspberries in her neck.

Her laughter filled the air with joyful sound until he put her down. Her demands for more were met with a gentle shove toward the box her father needed. With heavy steps, she retrieved the package and squatted to watch him work as he removed the nail.

As he applied sealant to the damaged area, a sharp crack rent the air and a deluge of water began to fall. With no protection from the elements, the downpour soon soaked father and daughter.

“Pumpkin pop, go to my door and get the umbrella out of the pocket.”

She rushed to do his bidding. When she had the umbrella in hand, she turned to slam the door and open the umbrella to protect her from getting wetter as she returned to her father.

Before she took two steps, a hand slammed over her nose and mouth and an arm picked her up from the ground. Too stunned to react, she didn’t begin to kick until the person holding her shoved her into the back of the panel van. He was medium height and unremarkable except for the large mole protruding from the side of his nose. The man quickly followed inside to silence her.

After recapturing her, the stranger said to the driver, “You better leave now before the wife remembers what you look like.”

The driver shares a meaningful glance with her abductor. “She never got a good look at me, and the owners of the gas station are cheap, lazy bastards. They never hooked up their camera. Any robber would notice the wires dangling from the back of the devices.” The driver shook his head as he drove off, leaving the umbrella swaying and collecting water while the girl’s father busied himself with repairing the tire, unaware of the crime taking place or that someone had taken his beloved pumpkin pop.