Sydell I. Voeller - Dummy and Me

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That stupid old feeling was haunting meagain. I knew it was time to strike head-on. Flopping down on mybed, I closed my eyes and for the hundredth time called forth apicture in my mind. There I was in the school cafeteria with abunch of kids clustered around me, talking and joking like it wasthe easiest thing Id ever done.

My hair was no longer a mousy washed-outbrown, but strands of curls fell, like the commercials say, withrich auburn highlights. My too-large nose was perfectly formed withjust a hint of a ski-jump tip like Sally Murdocks, the mostpopular girl in the tenth grade class. I wore cool looking clotheswith the latest designer labelsnot the stuff Id bought at GoodWill. But the best part of all, I knew exactly what to say atexactly the right times. Even Jason Middleton, the class clown,laughed at my jokes. I had a major crush on him! The visionsuddenly vanished. Negative vibes, the eternal culprit. It happenedevery time. As soon as Id managed to concentrate on even a hint ofmy innermost dreams, there were those vibes, reminding me it wasall impossible. My hopes faded as quickly as snowflakes striking asun-warmed windowpane. During the past week Id been reading thisbook about improving ones self-confidence. In it, the author saidthat you had to imagine yourself the way you wanted to be, tellyourself youd already accomplished your goal, and then live as ifyou really believed it. Pretty soon youd discover you were closerto your dream than you ever imagined possible.

I sighed, then shook my head. Id tried ittime and time again. Was it really possible for a fifteen-year-oldlike me?

Oh, its not that I lacked friends totally.Tammy Haddon and Id been best friends ever since second grade. AndDelia Zeigler, my locker partner, sometimes joined Tammy and mewhen we walked to school.

Yet now at Meadow View High School, I wantedto stretch my wings and really belong to a special crowd.

The sound of my dads angry voice jerked mefrom my thoughts. Dede, how many times have I told you to startdinner before I get home?

Springing up from the bed, I groaned.Coming, Dad!

A couple of years ago, Mom divorced Dad andtook off for New York City to become an actress. They had alwaysbeen so different. My father was contented to keep working at thecannery where hed landed a job the day hed graduated from highschool. But my mother, whod majored in drama and graduated fromcollege with honors, was a dreamer.

I know Mom loved my older brother, Bryon, andme. Ill never forget the look on her face that horrible day shetold us good-bye, nor my own helpless feelings raging inside. Howcould she just walk off and desert us?

Still, she was restless, just like hergrandfather, a famous ventriloquist in the fifties who traveledwith the vaudeville. I could never change her restlessness.

I hurried out to the kitchen, nearly bumpinginto my father. Sorry, I guess the time got away from me.

Deanna, Deanna, he scolded, shaking hisbald head. The time always gets away from you. What were youdoing? Lying in that room of yours and day-dreaming again?

Sort of. I reached into the lower cupboardand grabbed a handful of potatoes. How could I ever explain to himabout my latest attempts at positive action?

I suppose your brother is working down atthe greasy spoon again.

Dad, it isnt a greasy spoon. ItsMcDonalds. You know, a cherished American institution likemotherhood and apple pie. Id borrowed those words from acommercial on TV.

He glanced up from the front page of TheOregon Reporter. Though his gray eyes looked weary, I couldtell my dramatic proclamation had caught him by surprise. Or was itwhat I said, not how I said it? I wondered a split second later.Why had I mentioned motherhood and cherished institutions? I wasonly trying to get my point across, not open old wounds.

Little do you know about motherhood, Dadgrumbled. Certainly nothing your mother ever taught you.

I sighed, saying nothing. It seemed he wasalways complaining about her.

Before she left, Mom had longed to go to theEast Coast. Dad insisted on staying in Oregon. They fought about itconstantly.

Yet secretly I couldnt blame him forcomplaining. Why couldnt she have been contented with herteachers aide job at Blakely Elementary? Wasnt it enough todirect the annual school play and audition for roles at thecommunity theater?

Dad snapped open a can of beer. Better watchthat day-dreaming, Dede. Youll end up just like your mother.

So? There are worse things than being adreamer.

I refused to tolerate his criticism anylonger and rallied to Moms defense. Funny how mixed up inside youcould feel about someone you love. But Dad would never understandthat. He was much too wrapped up in earning a living and hangingout at the Elks Club on weekends to care about me.

Dad clunked his lunch box down on thecounter. Did you get an e-mail from your mother today? heasked.

I told him I had.

Whats she up to now?

Shes still stuck in that little roominghouse, but shes hoping to find something better soon.

I yearned to be with her, yet I knew it wasimpossible. She could never afford to keep Bryon and me on hermeager income. Dad didnt have extra money to send either.

You can read the e-mail if you like, Iadded.

Later. He dismissed my offer with ashrug.

I glanced up at the clock on the wall. Idbetter hurry if I was going to get this dinner out on time.

I hate cooking, I muttered to myself. Whydid Mom leave and dump it all on me? Now that Bryon had turnedseventeen and taken a part-time job at McDonalds after school, itwas worse. At least he used to do the laundry in the evenings, butnot anymore. That chore had been dumped on me too.

What did you say, Dede? Dads words gave mea start. I hadnt meant for him to hear.

Nothing, I answered. I shoved the potatoesinto the microwave. No over-time tonight?

Nope. The swing shift crew is finallyshaping up, so I wont need to fill in for them. Good thing theyhired two more men after Jarvis and Kettlemen quit.

The wrinkles in his forehead faded a littleand I saw a hint of a smile on his lips. He rarely smiled anymoreafter the divorce. Id watched him grow from a peppy, happy man toa bitter old one. Wed all suffered silently in one way or another,but I couldnt help thinking Id suffered the most.

Bryons getting a raise next week, I toldmy father. They told him within the next year, he might work hisway up to evening manager. I opened a box of Hamburger Helper anddumped it into the skillet of sizzling ground beef. The tangysmells of dehydrated onion rose up about me.

I waited for his reply, but when he didntanswer, I continued, Bryons doing a great job there. Remember,you were the one who told him it was time he helped out with thefamily finances. I figured that should get a rise out of him.