Borrowed Children

Borrowed Children by George Ella Lyon Page A

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Authors: George Ella Lyon
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having your clothes on and being dressed. She’s dressed: black chemise, red shoes, red beads, and fingernails red as fire. And her cast-off clothes will be for getting dressed, too. In Goose Rock you put your clothes on.
    She sits down at her dressing table.
    â€œOh, Amanda, I forgot to take your coat. Just hang it on the bedpost.”
    I do, and she gets to work, licking an eyebrow pencil, leaning intently toward herself. I sort out the delicate dresses, feeling like a chowhouse dish beside china. These aren’t for me—a yellow crepe scoop-necked shimmy, a lavender square-cut shift.
    â€œAt least try the red one.”
    I untangle it and find buttons smaller than baby teeth, a straight skirt, a flounce to let you walk. Can you see me headed up the dirt road to school in this?
    But she’s saying to try it on—
    â€œNo, you ninny, you have to take your clothes off first!”
    I feel more naked standing here in my slip than bathing in the kitchen at home. I try to hurry, but the dress sticks at my shoulders, my hipbones. Finally I get it on, pull it straight.
    Aunt Laura watches from the mirror.
    â€œNot bad,” she says. “Come let me see.”
    She tilts her head and studies me. Her red mouth curls.
    â€œI used to look just like you.”
    â€œYou did not.” That pops out before I can stop it.
    â€œI did too. I was tall and skinny, what they call a carpenter’s dream.”
    â€œPardon?”
    â€œFlat as a board. And I slumped to apologize for taking up space.”
    â€œYour face never looked like mine.”
    â€œNo, yours is stronger. And your eyes are like amber. The dress isn’t right but the color is. Amanda—”
    I hate being inspected by someone so pretty. “What?”
    â€œDid you ever have a doll?”
    â€œI had Beverly.”
    â€œAnd clothes for her.”
    â€œAll that Mama had time to make.”
    â€œNo matter what you put on her she looked the same, right?”
    I nod. I didn’t come over here to talk about dolls.
    â€œBut people aren’t like that. They change. The doll is all on the outside.”
    I wait for her to get to the point.
    â€œSo the outside has to be perfect. But what people have on the inside changes how they look. Of course, hairstyle helps and makeup—”
    â€œWhat you’re saying is I’m not pretty but I’m nice.”
    She laughs.
    â€œYou’re stubborn, I’ll say that. Like Mother and me and Rena.”
    â€œIs that bad?”
    â€œI’d say it’s good, the world being what it is. But that’s another story. I’m ready. You get your clothes on and let’s see what we can see.”

21
    I feel so lucky to be going out with Aunt Laura. I don’t know where—maybe a play or a concert. You can’t even go to a picture show in Goose Rock. Besides, I want to see something on a stage. I want to sit in the dark and see something—
    â€œAmanda!”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œThis is the streetcar stop.”
    â€œSorry.”
    â€œYou were a million miles away. Homesick, I’ll bet.”
    I don’t say anything.
    â€œYou can’t tell me you don’t miss Duck Roost.”
    The Number Eight car rattles up and we get in. We have to sit in front, right behind the driver.
    â€œIt’s Goose Rock. And no, I don’t. I miss Willie sometimes and maybe Helen.”
    â€œAnd your little place by the hearth?”
    â€œYou missed Mama pretty bad when she started courting Daddy.”
    â€œTrust Mother to bring that up.”
    â€œIt’s all right to miss people.”
    â€œNot for me, Amanda. I’ve got to have them.”
    â€œBut Mama’s still your sister.”
    â€œShe’s no more mine than a toy that’s rolled out of reach.
    Cress is my sister now.”
    â€œUncle Cress?”
    â€œAnd brother and father and mother, and babies and Holy Confessor.”
    â€œBut Omie and

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