Page 1 of Maybe Some Other Time
Chapter one
“ I really don’t wanna go.” Utensils clattered against the plate as Robbie gave up eating his breakfast halfway through a bite of toast and eggs. “I don’t feel good!”
Thelma abandoned her slab of Wonder Bread and mayonnaise, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel as she approached the Formica table.
“Let’s see.” Sighing, she held the back of her hand against her son’s forehead.
Robbie slumped against his chair, feet swinging back and forth beneath the table as he tacitly accepted his mother’s touch.
Yet the reality was on his reddened cheeks before Thelma announced, “I don’t feel any fever. You’re going to school.”
He kicked up a fuss as she turned back around to finish making lunch for her family.
Thelma ignored him. The more Robbie threw his little fits, the faster he burned himself out.
Yet every time he smacked his feet against the bottom of the Formica table, Thelma slapped her butter knife against another piece of white bread.
Soon, it became a musical game to take her mind off her motherly instincts that told her, “Oh, just let him stay home today. Let him watch Captain Kangaroo and The Price is Right with you.” But this wouldn’t be Robbie’s first time playing up some malady to get out of second grade.
He and his teacher, Miss Whitaker, had been at odds since the start of the school year.
Besides… Thelma gazed out the kitchen window, looking past the backyard, the fence, and the neighbor’s house as she remembered what she wanted to do that day. She needed both kids out of the house. All. Day. Sandy’s coming over.
“Mama!” Her daughter, Debbie, screeched from her chair at the table. “He’s loud!”
Thelma had to abandon her chore again to tend to Debbie, who had no patience for her big brother’s tantrums. Robbie continued to make his whiny case that he wanted to stay home. Between both kids, it would be a miracle if everyone got out of the door on time.
“What’s all this commotion?” Footsteps thundered down the stairs as Bill magically hustled through the kitchen while tying his tie.
He stopped in front of the fridge to grab the milk.
Much to his wife’s chagrin, he poured the last of it into a large glass and took it with him to the table.
I was going to use that! The milkman had been sick the day before, with no replacement to substitute at the last minute.
This left most of Hemlock Street without their daily bottles of milk.
Thelma had poured a careful amount for both of her children, foregoing any for herself.
By the looks of it, the milk still wasn’t at the door that day. “Don’t you kids do anything but gripe?”
Debbie always laughed at anything her daddy said, but Robbie wasn’t sharing any smiles today.
Thelma approached with a cup of fresh coffee for her husband, but Bill was already halfway through his giant glass of milk.
Thelma took the coffee back to the counter and drank it while putting together Robbie’s lunch.
“He keeps saying he doesn’t feel well and doesn’t want to go to school.” Thelma projected her voice so she could be heard over the rabble at the table. “He doesn’t have a fever!”
“What’s this about not going to school? How else do you learn how to read?”
“I can already read,” Robbie mumbled when everyone else quieted down. “I’m the best reader in my class.”
Thelma grinned. “At least that’s true. It’s the one nice thing Miss Whitaker said at your last conference.”
“Dare I ask what else she said, then?”
We’ve been over this a dozen times. Yet Bill was a busy man who left most of the rearing and scheduling at school to the homemaker.
As long as the kids behaved enough to stay out of disciplinary action and got good enough grades, he left them in his wife’s care.
That had been the deal when Thelma first gave birth nine months after the honeymoon, and when she was twenty, it had made her feel like she was in control of her children’s destinies.
Then she got Robbie. And Debbie. The more her kids showed her their personalities, the more she realized how little control she truly had.
“You know it by now.” Thelma dexterously wrapped up the sandwiches before shoving them into their respective bags.
“Too hyperactive. Doesn’t listen or follow instructions.
” She glanced over her shoulder, meeting her son’s gaze that claimed Thelma was a regular Benedict Arnold.
“Is quite smart, but doesn’t apply himself enough. Easily distracted.”
“I was told the same thing when I was his age.” Bill gestured to his breakfast as he dug in. “He’ll be fine. I turned out fine.”
Thelma had a feeling that their son’s issues at school manifested differently from what Bill went through in the ‘30s. For one thing, they could beat your rear, Bill. While corporal punishment wasn’t unheard of in Robbie’s school, the principal had sent home an announcement at the start of the school year that it was only used in “extreme” circumstances.
Not like when Thelma and Bill were in school.
Thelma still had an invisible scar on her hand from when rulers rapped her knuckles.
She changed her butter knife from her left hand to her right just from thinking about it. Being ambidextrous is a sign of intelligence. She had heard that on The Today Show and kept it to heart ever since.
Someone knocked at exactly 7:50. As Helen Reynolds helped herself through the unlocked door, the kids erupted in protests that they now had to go to school.
Bill said hello to Helen, who in turn said her polite pleasantries while waiting for Thelma to acknowledge the neighborhood school pickup.
Helen’s boy James was on the porch, swinging his bag in circles and pretending to be a fighter pilot he must have seen on television.
“Here.” Thelma thrust the bagged lunch into Robbie’s arms as he reluctantly got up from the table. “Make sure you eat all of it this time. Otherwise, it will be your dinner.”
He shrugged.
“Did you hear me, Robert? We don’t waste food in this house.”
“Listen to your mother,” Bill unhelpfully said. “She works hard on making that food. Be appreciative.”
“Yes…” Robbie muttered.
“What was that, son?”
He lifted his head, sniffing. “Yes, sir.”
Thelma handed off the bagged lunch. Before Robbie ran off to wait with James on the porch, though, she ruffled her son’s hair and said, “If you eat your lunch, I’ll make Sloppy Joes for dinner. Okay?”
It was the only slight smile she got out of him before he took off. She didn’t admonish him about running in the house.
“Seems he’s feeling fine to me.” Bill left his milk glass on the table as he got up and inspected the lunch his wife had made him. “Boys are like that, though. I used to lie about being sick all the time to get out of math and reading.”
Thelma ignored the mess on the table to ensure her daughter Debbie had a firm grip on her lunch before heading toward Helen, who extended her gloved hand for the little girl to take. “Thanks so much, Helen. I appreciate you taking Debbie to nursery school today.”
“Not a problem.” The older woman nodded in farewell to Bill, who looked at his watch and loudly noted the time. “Looks like you have your hands full with chores today, anyway.”
Thelma kissed her daughter on the cheek and waved goodbye as they headed out the door.
Helen would stop at half the doors on the street before corralling every kid to Sunny Vale Nursery School and Grover Cleveland Elementary.
The nursery school didn’t like it when non-parents dropped the kids off, but everyone knew Helen.
Her husband was the contractor who worked on their recent remodel.
“Big plans today?” Bill asked as Thelma began the post-breakfast cleanup.
“I should be asking you that.” She piled dishes in the sink and focused on putting the bread and mayo away. They had just run out of lunch meat. Note to self: get some later. “Don’t you have a big project due soon?”
“It’s mostly Chuck taking care of things these days.” He referred to his coworker at the city planning office. Last Thelma heard, Bill and Chuck were overseeing a road expansion project over on Santa Lucia Boulevard. “I make some dashing observations, he implements them, and we both get credit.”
“Don’t let him do too much work.”
Bill nudged her with his arm. “I’ve got Friday afternoon off. They’re closing the office to update the air conditioner. What say you and I go have a picnic for lunch? Like old times.”
Thelma contemplated the rush of water as it fell from the faucet. “Sounds nice.”
“Been a while since we had some time for ourselves. You know, without the kids.”
Lest she be overwhelmed by the conflicting feelings rising in her heart, Thelma brushed him off with another terse, “Sounds nice,” before handing him his lunch.
“Come on, Thel…”
“You’ll be late for work if you keep standing here flirting with me.”
“Flirting with my wife?” He stepped away, still facing her as she blushed and pretended to be more interested in washing the breakfast dishes. “What is this world coming to?”
He was gone shortly after, and Thelma was left in a quiet house with nothing but her thoughts to keep her company.
As the water poured from the faucet again, she braced herself against the sink, neither looking out the kitchen window nor focusing on the task at hand.
When the mild panic passed, she resumed her chores. She wanted them all done by lunch.
“Three dollars!” Thelma nearly tripped over the vacuum cord when she was distracted by the TV. “It’s three dollars!”