Unexpected Turns

Tomorrow, Tomorrow

August 17, 1942

"You're birthday is coming up," mom says with a wide smile, "I'm so excited, I can't believe you're going to become 17 years old. Oh, my baby is growing up. You're going to be out of high school soon, finding a nice young man, getting married. How exciting."

"Mom, you're being a bit too hyper," I reply sitting next to her on the couch, knitting.

"Well maybe I am, but at least you're learning to knit so that you could make that young man a nice sweater. Isn't that right, hon?" she asks while teaching me to knit correctly.

"I'm making this for Jerry. I think I'll be able to get used to this knitting thing by the time of his birthday. Right now, it looks like a pillow case," I say struggling with the yarn and needles.

Dad walks into the living room with his baseball hat and glove, "Hey, kid. Wanna play?" he asks.

I look at mom who nods for approval to let me go.

"Thank you sweetheart, I'll make it up to you," he winks at Mom.

She blushes, "Oh, Ted."

"Gross Dad, don't say or do that around me, please. I might be almost an adult but I'm still not use to my parents doing that."

He laughs and ruffles the top of my hair, and I comb my fingers through it to fix it with a sigh.

-

After I get my baseball hat and bat and glove, we play a little bit of catch first.

"So how is it going with Jerry?" he asks, tossing the ball to me.

"Really?" I toss it back.

"I want to know about my daughter's life is that so bad?" He tosses it to me again.

"We're fine, and Mom and you?" I joke.

"Fine. "

"How's Dick?"

"Fine. Frank?"

He laughs, "doing fine. What happened to you?"

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"I mean, you use to tell me everything, and now you're very secretive. I'm your dad who gives you advice on life, you always come to me to talk."

"I don't need advice right now. Maybe, I will later and then I'll ask."

he shrugs, "can't I know anything?"

"Okay," I pause for a moment holding the ball in my hand, then I toss it back, "Dick finally opened up more."

"Oh yeah, what has he told you?"

"Can't say, I promised both of them not to tell anyone. And whenever I tell you something like this you always tell mom and, not to be impolite or anything but-"

"You're mother is gossip queen," he interrupts, "and that's why I never tell her anything, so that was a lie you just said. It's one of the things I find repulsive about her too, you know."

"Dad," I gasp, "You shouldn't say that about your own wife."

"And you shouldn't say things about how your mom has bad traits," he taunts me by sticking out his tongue, "And by the way, saying 'not to be impolite or anything' means that you are about to be impolite."

I shrug.

"It's never good to say anything mean about another, okay Mary?" he lectures, "see when you least expect that you need advice, I give it. That's how good I am," he brags.