Page 17 of When We Were Young
Tears had filled her mother’s eyes, but she didn’t cry. She never cried. “Clara goes to a school for special children, Emily. It has to be that way.”
Emily’s voice got louder. “Please, Mommy.” She stood and looked right at her mother. “I’m special, too. We can be special together.”
But no amount of convincing could change her mother’s mind. Emily was too young to understand whatspecialmeant, or to voice her real concerns. If she wasn’t with Clara at school, who would look out for her? What child would run slow beside her so Clara didn’t get left behind? Who would push her on the swings? Who would help Clara find her way to Neverland?
Since Emily couldn’t be in class with Clara, she made up for it when they got home. If they were best friends before, they were even closer after that. Clara’s school got out later than Emily’s. So by the time the bus dropped Clara off in front of their house, Emily was outside waiting. Blond ponytail dancing behind her as she ran to meet her sister.
Clara’s face would light up and the driver would hand Clara’s crutches to Emily. “You need help?”
“No, sir,” Emily would say. “I’ve got her.” And she would help Clara to the sidewalk. Then she would position the crutches in Clara’s hands and Emily would put her arm around her.
Every single day.
As they made their way back to the house, Emily would ask the same question. “How was your day, Clara?”
“Good.” Clara never talked much. Only a few words at a time. Words that were hard to understand. And her smile wasn’t quite normal. But it was the best one Emily had ever seen.
Clara would usually work to say the next words. “How... your day?”
And Emily would light up because finally, finally all was right with the world. She and Clara were together again. “It’s perfect now,” Emily would say.
That’s how the days and months and seasons went.
Right up until their father left home.
Emily was ten when one day after school she found her parents yelling at each other on the front porch. Even now Emily could remember how she felt. She had been walking home from the bus stop and the sound of her father’s angry words had stopped her cold. His car was parked along the curb, the engine running, door open. Like he was going somewhere.
“I can’t do this, Judy. I can’t.” He threw his hands up. “I have someone else. It’s over.”
He had someone else? What did that mean? Who else could he possibly want other than Emily’s mother and Emily and Clara?
Her dad turned to leave and at the same time he caught Emily’s eyes. And like Emily, he stopped. For a moment etched in her mind ever since then, her daddy stared at her. His eyes seemed to say he was sorry and guilty and frustrated. Also that he loved her. But no words came.
Instead he grabbed a duffel bag from the grass, climbed in his car and drove away. “Daddy?” Emily yelled after him. She was old enough to not cry about everything. But she couldn’t stop the tears that day. She ran after his car for the entire block before she tripped and fell to the sidewalk. “Daddy.” She reached out toward his car as it moved farther away from her. “Daddy, don’t go!”
But the car didn’t turn around and her father never came back. She didn’t see him again for eight years. And by then it was too late for the two of them. Too late for her to trust him or love him or want time with him. It didn’t take Emily long to realize that at least one reason their daddy left home was Clara. Because he didn’t know how to help her or love her, and because of something even uglier.
He didn’t want to be a father to someone with cerebral palsy.
If Emily had been protective of Clara before their dad left home, it was nothing to how she became around her sister after that. One good thing came of their father’s leaving. They could no longer afford Clara’s special school. There was a class for kids like Clara at Emily’s school. Not with the services and instruction and therapy of the other school. But it was better than nothing.
That’s what their mother had said. The new class for Clara was better than nothing.
Emily disagreed. She thought it was the best thing in the world. She insisted on riding with Clara on the special-needs bus, so their mother got permission for her to do just that. Once Emily overheard her teacher talking to her mother.
“Mrs. Andrews, Emily really should ride the regular bus, with students like her.”
Her mother stood a little straighter, her eyes suddenly hard. “Clara is like Emily. More than you know.”
A smile spread across Emily’s face. She had never loved her mother more. And so Emily was allowed to keep riding Clara’s bus with the kids who weren’t quite like other kids. Emily felt like she belonged. After all, she didn’t have a daddy, and plus the nicest students at school were the ones on that bus.
Clara most of all.
Emily set the porch swing into motion again and crossed her arms. The night was colder now. Thunder rumbled in the distance as the memories kept coming.
Every Sunday the three of them would go to church. Emily and Clara and their mama. Church was a small building with mostly older people. They would sit together and Emily would help Clara turn the hymnal pages. Clara would do her best to sing along. Sometimes her voice would be too loud and usually she wasn’t on key.
But she was happy. They were happy.
