Young Writers Society

Chapter 2 – July 30th 2000

There weren’t enough words in the English language, or French vocabulary for that matter, to sufficiently capture the idea of exactly how much Allison despised wearing a dress; especially so for visiting a graveyard. She didn’t feel protected. Jeans were much better for nearly every situation. Allison was convinced that her father would be a hundred percent supportive of her decision to wear a beautiful pair of white jeans at her wedding. She wouldn’t worry about that for a long time though, until she was really old, like twenty or twenty-five. Of course, there was no way of knowing that for sure.

“Say goodbye to daddy Allison,” her mom said softly brushing her blonde bangs out of her eyes for the thousandth time. Mary Arowynn had driven up to Toronto annually with her daughter for the last three years. She had hoped last July would have been the last time, but her daughter needed her father.

Allison kept her hazel eyes forward as she whispered“, bye daddy.” Kissing the top of the grave, the little girl turned and walked back down the hill with her mother. The walk down was always much longer than the one coming up.

---

Sitting in the tacky but warm hotel lobby, Mary watched her daughter push her food around her plate. It wasn’t that Mary hated Canada, but for the fourteen hours it took to drive up North so her daughter could stare at a grave; this place was the epicenter of all things wrong with the world. This was the place that took away all of Mary’s words and credibility to assure her daughter that everything was going to be alright.

“Mom?”

“Yes, Alli?”

“I’m ready to go now.”

“Okay. You want to watch a movie back in the room tonight?”

“I mean, I’m ready to leave Canada now.”

“Well Wild One, it’s late and-” Mary looked down at her child still starring at her plate. She was right. It was time to leave. “Okay Allison, let’s get our bags.”

---

Typically, Mary would plan to hit all the tourist stops between Missouri and Toronto, hopefully building up a buffer zone of happy thoughts before visiting her husband. Maybe it was more for Mary’s own good, not just Allison’s. She had married young, which had as much to do with Allison as it did falling for the man she loved. Captain Robert F. Arowynn was selfless, kind, and above all recklessly courageous; never afraid to sacrifice his own well being for others in any situation, be it trivial or life changing. For that reason alone, Mary understood why Allison begged to make the journey back home each year.

Dawn was coming up as they passed the sign that welcomed them to Dayton, Ohio. They were here last year, Mary remembered. She took Allison to the United States Air Force Museum of Flight, almost instantly regretting that decision as Allison swore to become a pilot as soon as she was ‘tall enough.’ A long argument followed, with a lengthy apology from Mary immediately after. In the end, Mary couldn’t blame her daughter for trying to emulate her father. It was the reckless courage woven into her genes; a trait that made Mary both terrified and incredibly proud of her daughter.

In the passenger seat, fast asleep, Allison kept pulling the woven blanket tighter up to her neck while her feet continually kicked the blanket out from under her. The young girl may not have fully grasped it yet, but her mother knew, and fought that very same war everyday. For Mary, it was her feet that normally won the battle.

Only a few hundred miles to go; but it was always a few more miles to go.

---

“Is this straight enough mom?” Allison asked, muffled by the painters mask around her face. Mary took the Styrofoam ceiling tile from her daughter and inspected the edges.

“Looks clean Alli, keep it up.”

Allison smiled and climbed back up the ladder. Carefully she maneuvered the rectangle about the size of her body up into the ceiling grid, and let it slide down into place. “Good girl,” her mother told her. “Be careful with that box cutter now.”

“I am mom.”

“Close the blade when you climb up.”

“I did mom.”

“Allison,” Mary said with a sharp drop on the last syllable.

As tempting as it was, Allison didn’t want to fight today. After all, this was the best part of summer; the young girl was in fact happiest when she and her mother worked odd jobs in the humid time between spring and school. When they first moved down to The States, her mother was told they needed special papers to get work. Allison thought that was ridiculous, as did her mother. The papers seemed not to matter anyway because not only did her mother work, but she worked dozens of jobs all the time.

“There are advantages to being a woman,” Mary would tell her daughter. Allison took this to mean that girls are smarter than boys. Once, while accompanying her mom on a job interview, she watched from the lobby of a musty office building as her mom sat before a man built like a walrus. Her mother sat up straight, legs crossed and spoke softly listing the many reasons why she was qualified for whatever it was the walrus did. The man across from her didn’t say a word. His mouth simply hung open like he was about to devour a seal pup. This happened with most men her mother spoke to, and Allison was certain it was because men were dumb.

“How you holdin’ up in here Mary?” came a gruff voice waltzing in to the empty office space: it was a new walrus in work slacks and blue collared shirt, kicking debris out of the way with his boot, and leaning back against the unfinished wall by Mary.

“Nearly finished Tom.”

“You do amazing work Mary, Bill wasn’t lying ‘bout that.”

“Well, Bill does enjoy rattling on about me.”

“That he does. Speaking of rattling on, I think it’s about time to discuss your raise… in private I think.”

Allison watched this new walrus adjust his belt. He wore the same hungry grin that all the other men had smeared over their face.

“Allison, why don’t you go down to the work room and get our stuff ready.”

Climbing down the ladder, Allison heard her mother’s voice tremble as she spoke. Her mother’s voice never trembled. As the young girl and stranger passed by one another, his belly bobbed up and down while he laughed out“, run along now kid, we’ll be quick.”

Allison whipped around“, who you think you are given’ me orders?”

“I play my cards right, you might be callin’ me daddy real soon little one.”

Clearly that was the wrong card to play as every vein in Allison’s body was immediately transfused from blood to rage. Throwing her box cutter with all her might, Allison still missed by a wide margin, but it was still enough to distract Tom, turning around to meet a bombardment of tiny fists pounding away at his gut.

Mary reached out for her child, but Tom got to Allison first“; that is uncalled for little one.” Tom laughed pushing Allison back. Losing her balance, the girl tumbled over a pile of ceiling tiles, crashing into the ten-gallon trashcan.

Tom got one more chuckle out of his gut before Mary rammed her knee into it. Taking the thick man’s wrist, Marry then twists his arm up, around, and finally into a position that warranted a sharp popping sound. He cries. Mary whispered“, lay a hand on my daughter again and I will twist off a part of you that your hand will really miss.”

Still reeling in pain, Tom stays down on the ground while Mary quickly scoops up a stunned Allison; they leave their unfinished work behind.

---

The ride home from Earth City Industrial Park back to St. Charles was quiet. The freeway was empty, but Allison kept her eyes out the window, listening to the rattle of the old engine and the smell of oil carried on the thick air from the thunderstorm rolling in. She watched the muddy Missouri River beneath them as they crossed the big steal bridge. Everything around here seemed to be stuck, just like the river and the casino boat that was a boat but never went anywhere. It must be her fault, Allison thought.

“Sorry we lost our job,” Allison whispered to the window.

Mary pulled the car over on to the shoulder. Parking break set, and blinkers on.

“Allison, look at me.”

Allison turned around, keeping her eyes shut. She knew her mom didn’t tolerate girls that cried. She had to be tough, but often just ended up getting in trouble for being too tough. It wasn’t fair that men got to be tough and dumb, but girls couldn’t be tough and smart. “Are we going to be poor now?”

“Alli, we were never poor.”

“Why do they call us poor then?”

“Who are they?”

“Everyone at school says that we’re poor, and now we lost our job, and it’s my fault, and we’ll stay poor.”

“Allison,” spoke Mary running a hand through her daughter’s hair“, what did I tell you were the most valuable things in the world to a girl?”

“My brain, my guts, and my heart,” she coughed out, holding back tears.

“Do you have those things?”

“Yeah…”

“Then are you poor?” Mary asked while Allison continued trying to squirm out from her mother’s arm.

“No, I’m not poor.”

“That’s right. Anybody tells you otherwise are missing brains, understood?”

“Yes mom.”

Satisfied, Mary releases the parking break and put the truck back in gear, ready to head back to home. Tomorrow another job from another seedy man would be waiting.