The Choir He Wanted, The LIfe He Had

Tuesday, October 3, 1934

"Is this yours?"

Someone had placed a piece of paper in front of me. It was the picture of Ralph and me that I had drawn yesterday, but it had been taped together. When I looked up and saw Ralph standing in front of me, I wasn't surprised.

"Where did you get that?" I asked.

"I saw you throw it away," Ralph replied.

"Oh," I said. As I took the paper, Ralph sat down across from me.

"Thank you, by the way," he said.

"For what?" I said.

"For giving your shirt to me," Ralph said. "Mummy didn't say anything about it. I don't think she even knew."

"Your welcome," I said. After a moment of silence, I added, "I really am sorry. I was rude yesterday. You were right: I wasn't thinking about what I was saying. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Ralph said. I could tell that he was lying.

"It's not okay, is it?" I asked. Ralph sighed.

"You'd never understand," he said. "I don't want to talk about it."

I pushed the drawing he had given me across the table and said,

"I don't want this."

"Take it," Ralph said, pushing it to me.

"I don't deserve it," I said, pushing it back to him.

"I'm not mad at you," Ralph said. He reached into his pocket and took something out of it. When he set it on the table I saw it was a picture of a man holding a young boy. As he pushed the picture over to me, he said,

"Mummy gave this to me. It's me and Daddy. I was two."

I picked up the picture and studied it for several minutes, then handed it back to him.

"I might see him again in a few months," he said. "At Christmas. He usually comes home then."

He didn't put the picture away. He put it on the table in front of him and stared at it. After a while, he looked up at me and asked,

"What does your father do again?"

"He's a doctor," I said.

"Does he work at the hospital?"

"No. He's a..." I tried to remember the word my father had used to describe his work. Something about pee... "pee-da-trition?"

"You mean a pediatrician?" Ralph asked, laughing. "Like, a doctor for kids?"

"How did you know that?" I asked. Ralph shrugged.

"I just did, I guess," he said. He paused for a moment, then said, "I like your daddy. He's nice."

"Yeah," I said. "I like him too. I wish I could meet your daddy."

"Me too," Ralph said. "Maybe this December. Hopefully."

Ralph looked at the picture again. I waited for him to say something, but he didn't. Not wanting him to be sad, I changed the subject.

"Do you like to sing?" I asked. Ralph looked up.

"I don't know," he said. "Maybe sometimes. What about you?"

"I love singing!" I said excitedly. "I sing all the time! It's so fun!"

"Are you the one who said you wanted to sing when you grew up?" Ralph asked. I blushed slightly and laughed nervously.

"Yeah," I said, "But it's stupid."