I’m only half way down the block and I can already hear the children’s laughter. The plastic wheels of their battery powered mini cars scraping along the pavement. The rusty squeak of my Nana’s swing. The splashing water of “Lake Elaine”. I step over the rotting garbage in the street and avoid the Quarts Moon colored house on the left. I’ve never seen a dog there in the 20 years I’ve been passing it, yet the stench of these mysterious animals shit could make even the most steel stomach churn.
As I approach the yard I can feel the corners of my mouth begin to twitch, working their way into a smile despite the melancholy mood I hadn’t been able to shake all morning. I pass the first gate and head for the second. I always go in the second gate. No one has noticed me yet but as I reach out my left hand and lift the old whiny latch my cover is blown.
Matty’s head snaps around, his piercing gaze rests upon me for an instant, like a guard dog scoping out an intruder. He leaps up from the ground. His whole body goes stiff; muddy hands curl into fists, feet planted firmly, arms and legs rigid. He throws his head back and yelps, “Toe!! Ally!! BEANS HERE!!!” His voice echoes through the yard with authority. As he brushes some dirt out of his eyes I hear Ally’s screech and the scrapping plastic of the little car come to a dead stop. Tony’s making his Tarzan-like roar as he emerges from the grape harbor.
Matt attacks first. His dirt covered body slams into mine as he reaches his hands up. In one fluid motion I scoop him from the ground, spin in one complete circle, plop him back down and continue making my way into the yard. By this time I don’t even remember what had made me so upset earlier and the grin on my face cannot be restrained.
Tony has emerged from the grape harbor. He’s about ten feet in front of me now. “Key-Yah!” he screams at the top of his lungs while making some type of karate chop motion. He’s running full force at me with his fists out, ready for battle. I grab both of his hands with my own, my long fingers completely engrossing his tiny knuckles. I let him force me backwards a few steps before knocking him over into the grass on our right. He lands flat on his back, arms and legs spread, and smiles. “Darnit! I almost had her!”
I hear the pitter-patter of my little Ally-gators feet and turn to the direction from which they are coming. I see her blonde head bobbing, her tiny bowed-legs carrying her as fast as possible down the asphalt, her arms open wide and her smile even wider. I drop to one knee and open my own arms. Her arms wrap around my neck, just barely long enough to get a good grip, her warm cheek presses against mine. I stand up, gripping her tight. She rolls her head so that our foreheads are pressed together. Her blue eyes stare into mine. We stay like this for a few moments before her grip loosens and she puts her hands on my shoulders. “Hi Coco Bean,” she says slowly through her restrained smile with a hint of shyness. “Hi Allison.” I reply back. She rests her head on my shoulder, letting her arms hang down.
I make my way over to the swing. Tammy, or T-T as I used to call her, is sitting in a white plastic chair on my right. My Poppa is sitting to the left. As I take my seat his head jolts up, startled by the sudden presence of another person. Even with his new state-of-the-art hearing aids he remains oblivious to the sounds and commotion going on around him.
The side door to the house slams shut. Before I have time to turn around and see who it is I hear her comforting voice. “Is that my baby I heard?” My Nana is standing at the top of the stairs juggling three cups of ‘coffee milk’ and a diet Pepsi. The boys run up to gather their drinks. She struggles getting down the four stairs.
She shuffles over in her dirty pink slippers and takes a seat next to me on the swing. Her hair has lost its youthful color over the years and taken on a shade of grey instead. The majority of her teeth are missing. The ones that have managed to hang in are stained a light brown from her Pepsi diet. Her skin has been replaced by brown leather. Its cracked, ashy, and emanates heat. Her legs don’t seem to be a pair but rather look as though they belong to two separate bodies. The left is muscular and healthy while the right is half-starved and shriveling into itself. The pink polish on her abnormally long finger nails has chipped away, leaving only a few specks here and there.
Allison sits up from my shoulder and reaches for the remaining serving of coffee-milk. “Not until you give me back my baby girl,” says Nana, pulling the cup just out of reach. The small child snaps back to my body, tightening her grip once more. She shakes her head slightly before burying her face between my upper arm and torso. My Nana hands her the drink and reminds the girl that I’m hers but will let it slide this time.
The seats are located under a crab apple tree. The ground at my feet no longer retains the grass it once grew but rather is just dried up dirt. The property is split into three sections by the two parallel driveways. The three-story house towers over the rest of the land. All of the seats are facing outward to the street except for T-T’s. She is facing the opposite direction, sipping on a super sized ice-coffee from Dunkin’ Donuts. A diet Coke, empty, at her feet.
The two boys have finished their drinks and are now fully energized with caffeine. Matt pulls out a wagon from under the porch and begins walking through the yard loading it with each truck he comes upon. Tony appears behind his mom holding his bathing suit. As she begins to help him dress she looks over at me, and says through laughter, “eh looks like Beans on duty.”
There is shouting coming from down the street. It’s loud. Really loud. Neighbors begin appearing on their porches. Some of the younger males take off running, if it could even be called that, towards the noise. The ‘run’ is more of a skip-shuffle due to the fact that if they lift their feet too high their fresh kicks would slip right off, as would their pants if one hand wasn’t holding them in place. The shouting is joined by miscellaneous banter from the on-lookers. It doesn’t take long for the sirens to get in earshot, growing louder and louder until two cruisers fly past. The detailing reads “Springfield Police – South Division.” Three more pass. The crowd growing larger, still.
A sharp pain in my left foot vibrates up my leg and through my entire body. I look down to see Matt’s wagon, now absolutely filled with toys, is parked directly on top of my white sneaker. Tony is dressed in his swimming attire, complete with arm floaties. Allison is gulping down the last sip of the creamy color liquid. All completely unfazed by the violence in the street.
I spend a few hours on the pool deck, watching Tony work on his “dive”, which actually means he stands on the second stair, holds onto the railing, and allows himself to go under water for a split second. I clap every time. Matt goes out of his way to soak me head to toe. On accident, of course. And Allison repeatedly reminds me that she is a fishy, insisting she’s not cold through purple lips and chattering teeth.
At 5 o’clock it is time to return home. I pick up my keys and cell phone, put my shoes back on, and hover in front of the swing for a few seconds. “Hey guys, I think Beans headed home.” T-T says with a solemn tone, announcing my departure to the children. My smile goes flat, I bite my lip, and nod my head. Matt is the closest so I go for him first. Kneeling down to his level, I wrap my arms around him and pull him close. He places a hand on each shoulder, pecks me on the cheek, and whispers “Bye Court.” Tony has taken my place on the swing. I walk over bend down as if going for a hug, just as I am about to close in I pull back and ruffle his hair in my fingers, “Ha! Ha! I gotcha again!” His eyes light up and he chuckles a bit. I kiss him on the forehead. Allison is last. She is sitting in her mothers lap, sucking her thumb, tears welling up in her eyes. I ask her for a hug and she nods her head yes but makes no effort to come to me. T-T pushes her out of her lap and the girl slowly walks over. I pick her up and hug her long, rocking her back and forth. I put her down and wave goodbye.
I return to the gate from which I entered, open the squeaky latch once more, and close it behind me. As I reach the end of the property I look back over my shoulder. The house is set aflame by the setting sun. The plastic tires are scraping against the pavement once more. The children have resumed play. T-T has cracked another Coke. Pop is making dinner. They go on with their lives. However my Nana is there. Leaning against the metal gate, the flashing lights of the police cars coloring violence across her face. She is watching over me, making sure I am safe. She is looking at me as if I am one of her own children, like Tammy, or grandchildren like Matt, Tony, & Allison. She has too much love in her eyes for me to really just be a child from two blocks over, all grown up, whose mother paid her to change diapers. I wave, turn back around, and avoid the Quarts Moon colored house.