Dark Horse

The Importance of Wool Sweaters

"Eileen wants you to babysit on Friday," my dad says causally as he reads the newspaper. I see my red pen marks on it, reminding my dad not to throw it out before I read the crime column. I love who-done-it mysteries.
"Why?" I whine, just a little bit. "Jason's eleven. Isn't he old enough to watch himself?"
"He's ten," my dad corrects, "and he's not old enough to watch over a one year-old and plus, you owe your aunt."
"How?"
"Jason's party. Does that ring a bell?"
Oh damn it! That was the reason I had to leave my date with Mason early.
"I guess. When?"
"Six to nine."
"How much is she paying?"
"You owe her!"
"Okay, okay. I'll do it."
If I have to...

     The phone rings and I almost overturn the table as I lunge for it. Mom and Dad look at each other with that I-told-you-something-was-up look.
"Hello?"
"Yeah, hi. This is Mason."
"Yeah, well, I kinda assumed so because if said Mason Lorne on the caller ID and because no one else calls our home phone."
"I've come to the conclusion that I would be a horrible prank-caller."
"Yeah, the caller ID and football game going on in background is a dead giveaway."
"Pretty tough game tonight," he says in an announcer voice, "Notre Dame vs. Ohio State. A dead tie. All one of these teams need is a lucky break to win."
"Sounds extremely boring."
"Oh, it is. I just have nothing better to do."
"So you called me?"
"I would love to hear my girlfriend's voice all the time."
Girlfriend?
When did this happen?
"Girlfriend? Don't we have to go on dates and stuff to be considered boyfriend and girlfriend?"
"Yes," he says, clearing his throat, "which brings me to my next point. Would you, Sophie whatever-your-middle-name-"
"Rose."
"Awww...that's pretty. A family name?"
"Nope. My parents just love the Titanic."
"Interesting..."
"What were you going to say?"
"What? Oh yeah. You distract me very easily." That made me smile.
"Anyway," he continues, "I was wondering if you, Sophie Rose Elkhart would like to accompany me on a date to a movie?"
"What movie?"
"Can't you just say 'yes' or 'no'?"
"Depends on the movie."
"Fine. It's Annie. 8:30, Friday night."
"Didn't Annie come out in, like, the 1970s?"
"1982."
"Whatever."
"Can't you just say 'yes' already?"
"Yes."

I'm reading The Book Thief for the seventeenth time when my mom walks in later that night.
"You know, it's good to see you happy again."
"I guess," I'm at my favorite chapter. Champagne and Accordions.
"Why don't you invite Mason over sometime? I didn't really get a chance to talk with him while his family was over."
"He's nothing like his mom, if that's what you're asking."
"No, I'm not worried about him. I'm jealous of him."
"Why?"
She smiled sadly. "Because he brought you happiness I could never give you. And I envy that. Maybe I'm just a bad mom, but I know I'm glad to see you smiling again."
I hug her. Her wool sweater scratches up against my cheek. I remember she got it in Montana. I love that sweater. It's big and bulky and always smells like her.
"No, mom," I say, "you're the best mom ever."

I remember when I was little, I loved playing Ring-Around-the-Rosie. I would demand we play it over and over again. I think I especially liked the falling down part. The part where you laugh and you brush yourself off and get back up again. Turns out, the older you get, the harder it is to pretend like brushing yourself off and getting right back up is as easy as it looks.
But guess what?
You do it anyway.

Ring around the rosie
A pocket full of posies
Ashes, ashes
We all fall down