Mary Wolf by Cynthia D. Grant Page B

drinking! Just a few beers.”
    â€œPardon me if I don’t get the distinction.”
    â€œYou mind your own business.”
    â€œIt is my business. You’re scaring the girls.”
    â€œI’m not scared,” Danielle sneered, throwing down her pencil.
    â€œThey’re not scared,” Daddy said. “Come here, Polly. You’re not scared of me, are you?”
    He got her giggling. Erica butted her head against him until he tickled her, too.
    â€œDaddy, do you mind? We’re doing some studying so the girls won’t be so behind in school.”
    â€œFor God’s sake, Mary, will you relax? You sound like an old lady. There’s plenty of time for the girls to catch up. We’re still on summer vacation.”
    Erica’s head was on his knee. She turned toward me and stuck out her tongue.
    â€œI’ll tell you one thing,” I tell Rocky, “I’m not having any kids.”
    We’re leaning against a log on the beach, watching the thick green waves roll in.
    â€œEver?”
    â€œMaybe.”
    â€œDon’t you like your sisters?”
    â€œYeah, but once you have kids, you’re not free anymore.”
    â€œYour parents are free. They go where they want.”
    â€œNo they don’t. They just go.”
    I’m plunking out chords; Mama bought me new strings. Rocky’s cutting up an apple with his pocketknife. He pops a slice into my mouth.
    He says, “I’d like to see my brother. I hope he’s doing okay.”
    â€œYou could call him.”
    â€œNo money.”
    â€œYou could call collect.”
    â€œThey don’t like that,” he says, meaning the foster parents who took them in when their mother left. One day when he and Bobby came home from school, her clothes were gone. She’d left the rest; there wasn’t much to take. It was a shock, Rocky said, but no surprise. He fixed supper for Bobby and they went to bed. They thought she might come back. She had before.
    This time she didn’t, and she didn’t call. After a while, the school found out. They had an uncle in town but he didn’t want them, so the county placed them in a foster home. At least they got to stay together. When he was fourteen, Rocky walked away. He didn’t need to run, he said; no one was coming after him.
    â€œWhy’d you leave?”
    â€œI don’t know.” He hands me another slice of apple. “It wasn’t like they whipped us or anything. It was just kind of nothing. Their duty, you know, and the county gave them money for having us. At Christmas they’d give us these teeny little toys; then we’d sit there and watch their real kids open all these presents. Bikes and things. They always bought us used clothes. The bigger I got, the less I fit in there. Soon as I can, I’ll have Bobby with me.”
    â€œDoes he like it there?”
    â€œHe says he does. The last time I called he only talked a minute; then he wanted to watch TV.”
    â€œKids are weird.” I light a cigarette.
    â€œWhy do you do that?”
    â€œSmoke, you mean? Because I’m a stupid idiot.”
    â€œNo, really.”
    â€œReally. That’s the reason.” I exhale poison, enveloping Rocky and me. I stink.
    â€œSo why do you do it?”
    â€œI’m nervous, I guess. Anyway, it gives me something to do with my hands besides strangle my father.”
    â€œHe seems real nice.”
    â€œHe used to be.”
    â€œPeople change,” Rocky agrees.
    â€œEspecially him.”
    â€œMy mother changed, but not a lot. She always said she didn’t like kids. I don’t know why she had us.”
    â€œJust did, probably.”
    â€œBut after she had me, she must’ve known she didn’t want any more, so why’d she have Bobby?”
    â€œAdults do lots of stupid things. Where’s your father?”
    â€œLos Angeles, I think. He left before Bobby was born. He and my