Page 52 of The Cannon
“Let’s table this for later when we can concentrate,” I say.
She leans over and turns my face to hers.
“I’m so happy for you, Sawyer. I can hardly believe it. She’s obviously looking for you too.”
* * *
The rideto the theater was a little awkward at first. I recognized the silence and remembered I was the same way back then. Closed off. First of all, it’s a new experience. Secondly, these kids don’t know what to expect.
I just kept talking. Bristol jumped in whenever I needed to take a breath and had run out of small talk.
I’ve got my eye on the smallest dark-haired boy, Jude. He’s ten but looks younger. Mostly he looks down and has hardly said two sentences since meeting at the church.
Both answers were prompted by my questions. I hate that I see something familiar behind his eyes. Like he’s seen too much, heard too much. I know. I wore that look.
The two girls, Eva and Mollie know each other. The twelve-year-olds haven’t stopped talking. And even though the boys wish they’d pay less attention to them, they’re laughing.
Looks like the two oldest boys are getting on. Twelve-year-old red-headed Richard already established he plays baseball and basketball at his neighborhood park. He told eleven-year-old Robert to just show up next Saturday at one and they could shoot some hoops.
Jude’s silence is making him invisible. Bristol sees it too. To that end we’re trying to include him in the conversations.
Now that we’re here things will improve.
The Memphis Children’s Theater looks newly built. The heart of downtown seems a prime location. The matinee crowd mills around the entry, and the smiles on the faces of kids and adults alike warms me. As soon as we pull up the excitement inside our van rises.
“Cool! Is that what we’re seeing?” Richard says reading the marquee.
“Yep.The Addams Family. Sound good?”
Four voices sound their approval and one nod.
“I’ll text you when we’re ready to be picked up, George.”
“Alright. I’ll be parked nearby.”
“Okay, everybody out. Stay together on the sidewalk,” Bristol says.
She leads the caravan out the van and next to the playbill board displayed at the box office. The rest follow, and as we exit I lay a hand on Jude’s shoulder. He shakes it off.Okay, I hear you.
“I’m so excited!” Mollie says with a high-pitched call.
“Me too! I didn’t know there were plays this cool,” Eva adds.
“Everybody accounted for?” Bristol counts the heads.
“I’ve got your tickets.”
I pass them out to each child.
“Make sure you hold on to them. Let’s go inside.”
Walking into the theater is a new experience for us all. Children are obviously part of every faction of the theater. First thing, a kid checks our tickets. Our groups’ eyes are wide, not sure where to look first. The colors? The lights? The costumed characters wandering the lobby?
I see a barely teenaged Mortitia Addams navigating the room in her tight black dress with the long train. A pitch-black wig, white face and purple nails sell the look.
“There’s Uncle Fester!” Robert points to the other side of the room.
A boy wearing a bald cap and a padded bodysuit talks with a group of giggling youngsters. His dark circles under his eyes don’t scare the kids even though they’re young. They look about seven and eight and the adult accompanying them is laughing at something they said.
