Leslie Connor - Crunch

I SAW IT LIKE THIS: A SINGLE WORKER AT SOME faraway oil refinery with his head tilted down, peering into a pipe, waiting for one more drop that never came. Doesnt mean it was really like that. It probably wasnt. But thats what I saw in my minds eye the night our parents called to say that their trip had been extended. Indefinitely.

It was a five-sibling footrace for the phone, and I won.

Dad? Dad, is that you? I waited and listened.

Sure is, Dewey. Can you hear me all right?

Pretty well, I said. But the signal wasnt great, and my pulse was thumping in my ears.

My older sister, Lil, pushed close to me. We shared the receiver.

Everyone doing okay? Dad asked.

Were all right, I said.

And how about the situation ? he asked. Whats the view from the home front?

Red flags are up at every fuel pump for miles, I said. I lost my breath on the words. No gas. No diesel. They say its the same everywhere. Is that true, Dad? Theres no fuel?

His answer came slowly. It appears to be so, he said. Pumps are dry clear across the country.

Lil leaned away from the phone and whispered, Shoot! We both knew what was coming next.

Im just so sorry, Dad said. Mom and I are still caught up here practically in Canada. Ive got a stack of ration cards, but at the moment, theyre not worth a roll of toilet tissue.

I tried to give him a laugh, but nothing came out. Dad will joke even in tough situations. But he was sincere about that apology. They had thought twice about having Mom go. But this was the anniversary trip. Number twenty. None of us had wanted them to miss it.

Dads main job is making deliveries all up and down the coast of New England. He drives an eighteen-foot box truck with a roll-up rear door. He can maneuver it in and out of all the nooks and crannies in the seashore towns. Hes an independentmakes up his own route and schedule. Each July Mom rides with him for a few days to celebrate their wedding anniversary. Its not a fancy trip. I sometimes think of it as the Week That Mom Goes to Work with Dad. But Mom loves the scenery, and she says that its only right that she support Dad in his lifelong search for the best basket of fish-and-chips in New England.

It used to be theyd get someone to stay with us kids. But this year, Lil was eighteen, I was fourteen, and Vince was thirteen. Angus and Eva, our twins, were only five. But to Mom that meant they were no longer babies. With all of us Marriss kids being the embodiment of responsibility (Lil came up with that one), it was decided that we could manage on our own. And we could. And we were. So far.

Whats the news from the Bike Barn, Dewey? Dad asked.

Its busy, I said.

Okay. Not exactly news . The Marriss Bike Barn had been humming all summer. We do repairs. Hard times at the gas pumps had meant good times for the bike biz. People were relying on pedal powerbig-time. If there was news, it was that we were busier now than Dad had ever seen it. But I couldnt quite bring myself to tell him that.

Vince and I have it covered, I said. My brother faked a cheery smile, then let his face collapse into a gory frown. I couldnt blame him. I was the one whod talked Dad into letting me run the shop while he and Mom were away. And I was the one whod roped Vince into it with me.

Dew, just be careful you dont get overwhelmed, Dad said.

I didnt say anything. There was a pause on the line. Lil pressed closer to mepractically climbing up my ankles. I shuffled sideways.

Dad went on. Now, Lils class starts tomorrow. She should still go. Thats paramount. No reason you guys cant make that work, especially with Angus and Eva in Sea Camp all morning.

Lil turned away again. This time, she fired a euphoric Yesss! toward the ceiling.

Im afraid were not going to get an overnight solution to this fuel thing, Dad said. But mark my words, life will move on. Youll see it. And if something doesnt break within a few days, I suppose well try to get Mom down to a train. Somehow. Not sure how well get her out of the hinterlands Now he was thinking out loud. Ill have to stay with the truck. I guess were in a game of wait and see.

Lil took the phone from me with a twist of her wrist. Dad, dont sweat this, she said. Ill only be in class until one oclock. Then Im home. Mom should stay with you. Besides, how long can it go on? And Dad, how long have I been doing this?

She meant how long had she been taking care of younger kids. The answer: a long time. She was already thirteen by the time Angus and Eva were born. (I think those two just figure they have two moms.)

Our parents gave Lil some instructions and fired off the reminder that they expected us all to take care of one another. I heard that loud and clear from my place beside Lils shoulder. After they hung up, the five of us stood in the kitchen for several seconds without saying anything. Lil and Vince and I knew wed have to somehow play it happy for Angus and Eva. This wasnt fun news for anybody, but try telling a pair of five-year-olds that you dont know when their mommy and daddy are coming home.

I-I just really wanted them to come home now , Angus said. He blinked back tears.

W-well, how many more days? Eva wanted to know. She was trying hard to suck it up too.

Lil squatted down, arms wide. Okay, come here, she said. She gathered them in. I know you miss them. But you have Vince and Dew and me. Were going to keep on taking good care of you. And when there is enough fuel again, Mom and Dad will come straight home to us. This is just some bad luck. Nobody could have known.

But part of me was thinking that we should have known. Or somebody should have. Fuel reserves had been low all winter and theyd stayed that way through the spring. The news had been full of storieseverything from people giving up their gas guzzlers and lawn mowers to high prices and ration cards. There had been long lists of all the goods and services that were slowed because of the fuel shortage.

But now, in this second week in a hot July, suddenly shortage wasnt the right word anymore. Shortage would mean there wasnt enough . Instead, there wasnt any .

Vince hit the nail on the head. (He usually does.)

This, he said, is a crunch .

EARLY THE NEXT MORNING, LIL JAMMED A BOX of drawing charcoal and two sketchbooks in her backpack, which was already stuffed with art supplies. Angus and Eva looked on. They were a little bleary and not so happy to see Lilthe next best thing to Mompack up and leave. Wed distracted them enough to avoid major meltdownsat least so far. (Lil had allowed double desserts and late bedtimes, and I think shed slept in their room.) But Angus and Eva did keep asking, So now when will Mom and Dad come home? When can they get the tank filled up? We couldnt supply the answer, and Lil didnt try. She stuck to telling them what she did know.

Todays really nothing new. You guys will be at Sea Camp again. Just like last week . Dewey will take you. Vince will pick you up. Just like She waited.

last week, Angus said.

Right. And everything else today will be just like yesterday. Except that Im going to Elm City for the morning.

All week long, I added.

R-right, Lil said. She gave me an eye roll to let me know I wasnt helping. She focused on the twins again. What I mean is, we all know what we are doing. And we all have chores. Just like yesterday. Angus and Eva, you will take care of the henhouse. Just like

yesterday , Angus finished, and he managed a tiny smile.

Vince tuned up. And I will milk our goats. And I will pasteurize our goats milk. Then I will be a slave in our bike shop. He pressed the words at me. Just. Like. Yesterday.

Lil snorted a laugh. Then she just cracked up.