Writer's Block

Car Ride and an Ice Cream Cone

A thousand signatures, a million tears, the renting of a U-Haul, the packing of a hundred boxes, and a month and a half later, I sat gripping the wheel of my decrepit Buick. My new children - Holy Jesus Christ, I was now a mother - sat behind me. I prayed silently as I pushed down the gas pedal to whatever god was above us to let my rusty, shivering car survive the ride home.

Sophie sat behind me, her huge brown eyes gazing forlornly out the window. Her little brother, Grant, was gurgling happily in his car seat.

I winced as the car jerked, struggling to get up to speed on the highway. My poor car groaned as it strained its way to 55. I hefted a sigh of relief as the car finally shopped shaking. I smiled softly at Sophie through the mirror and wracked my brains for a conversation starter.

"So." Sophie didn't respond. "What are you good at?" I cringed as she didn't respond. I had never been all that great with children beforehand, and I was wondering if this arrangement would fail. Majorly.

I fumbled with the radio dial, wishing that my car wasn't just a pile of rusty metal on wheels. The radio refused to work, hissing and spitting at me. I finally gave up and turned it off.

Silence filled the car once again, and I started feeling nervous. What if I was a horrible mother? I mean, I had never even wanted children.

I glanced back at Sophie once again before blurting out the first thought that popped into my head. "I can speak Spanish!" I mentally slapped myself. What the hell?

"What?" Sophie stared at me in shock.

"I can speak Spanish," I repeated.

Her sorrowful gaze locked onto mine through the rearview mirror. "How much?" Her voice was strong, challenging my comment.

"Un poco," I replied mischeviously.

"What does that mean?" She asked me, voice eager.

"A little." I smiled at her. "Your turn."

"What?" She was confused again.

"What are you good at?"

She though for a few minutes, chewing thoughtfully on her lip. Her eyes lit up as she thought of an idea. "I can read!" She proudly announced.

I smiled softly, entertained. "Oh, really?"

She nodded violently, brown hair tumbling around her face. "Momma says that I'm her favorite reader." In an instant, her face morphed from happiness to pain. "Will I ever see Mama again?"

A heavy stone dropped into my heart. "No, little one, you won't." I blinked back tears. "I'm sorry."

Her eyes turned glassy, and the car fell silent once again.

I drove for a half an hour before a bright sign caught my eye. "La Paz!" It blared. "Ice cream capitol of the world! Next three exits!"

"Hey." I said, glancing back at Sophie. "Want some ice cream?"

Sophie pulled her gaze from the window and cocked her head. "Really?"

"Yeah." I smiled. "So, do you want to?"

Sophie beamed, bouncing in her seat, "Oh, yes please!"

_____________

"You're the best, Auntie Veevee." Sophie said, slurping at her chocolate cone.

We were sitting in a bright ice cream parlor. Grant was squirming on my lap, reaching for my strawberry ice cream with hungry grumbles.

I held it above his pudgy hands and smiled at his sister. "Why, thank you."

Sophie's eyes turned stormy. "Better than Unca' Michael," she mumbled into her ice cream.

I stared sadly at her. "Was he the man you were staying with?"

She bobbed her head. "He's Daddy's brother." She blinked her eyes, thinking deeply. "You're Mommy's sister, right? Like me an' Grant?"

"Yeah," I said, biting into my ice cream. "Ah! Cold!" I nearly dropped the cone as ice cold pain seared through my teeth.

Sophie giggled, rolling her eyes at me. "Silly Auntie. You're not supposed to bite it," she waggled her cone at me. "You're supposed to lick it!" She slurped up a lick loudly, spreading chocolate across her cheeks and nose. "See?"

I laughed loudly, my voice filling the room. Sophie joined in, her tinkling giggle growing into a girlish cackle. Grant started laughing, clapping his hands together delightfully.

Needless to say, we were kicked out of the parlor for being a disturbance.