Itâs not a problem. You want to tell me about it?â
âDaddy wants us to go to Mayfair Park with Mrs. Perthâs son. I donât want to go, but if I say so, I know itâll hurt Daddyâs feelings. We donât goâ¦â I try to think how to finish the sentence. âMany places.â
âYou should then, and enjoy the park. You shouldnât even think about the workshop.â Cosmo is busy putting Mehitabel into the shed. âHey,â he hollers from across the yard, âI got paid today. And whenever I get paid I feel it is obligatory to splurge on a triple cappuccino at the Italian center. So, Miss Barbaraâ¦â As he comes back across the yard, his voice thickens with a silly accent and he rolls his eyes at me. âFma aska you to be my date for da cappuccino. Whaddya say, kid?â
I nod. I may even be smiling. I can buy the hot dogs on the way home.
We sit at a little table in a corner. âNow isnât this like the movies,â Cosmo chuckles. âWe just need the gypsy with his violin.â He says I have to order something, so I go for a large hot chocolate with whipped cream. When the brimming cups are brought to our table, the air is filled with the smells of chocolate and coffee and cinnamon from the sprinkles on top of his cappuccino.
âThis is what makes life worth living,â Cosmo says, nibbling on the foam. He senses my stricken look. âThis is one of the things that makes life worth living,â he corrects himself. âThere are so many.â But his voice sounds tired. âSo you donât get to go out very much with your dad?â He licks the milk moustache off his upper lip.
âHeâs not well⦠not very well, and Livvyâ¦â
âWhat exactly is Livvyâs problem?â
âWell, you knowâ¦â I am surprised we are talking suddenly about Livvy. Cosmo can juggle topics, too. âShe doesnât always get to the bath-room on time.â
âLots of little kids donât.â
âBut itâs worse with Livvy. Sheâs only got one kidney and sometimes she has even more than one accident in a day.â
âAnd you clean her up.â
âMost of the time.â
We drink our drinks quietly for a few minutes, listening to the sound of the late-afternoon traffic getting all mixed up with Italian conversations at the tables around us.
âDaddy thinks itâs because he and Mama were old when Livvy was born. I heard him telling Grandma, and then he cried. Mama was forty-four. Do you think that could be the reason?â
âI donât know.â Cosmo holds his cappuccino cup in both hands. âWhatever the reasons, though,â he moves his cup slightly forward like a kind of pantomime toast Iâve seen him do in skits at the workshop, âI think youâreâ¦â He looks around the room as if there is a word somewhere, and then he smiles. âI think youâre swell.â He is laughing, and Iâm afraid he is going to choke on his cappuccino. âI canât believe I said swell,â he says. âSwell. Some words should never be used. What I meant to articulate, Miss Barbara Stanwyck Kobleimer, is that I think you are caring and tenacious and talented.â
âI donât mind swell,â I say.
Myron Perth drives a potato-chip truck. It says
Crispy Dan the Potato Chip Man
in big red letters on the outside.
âThatâs me,â Myron Perth says. âIâm Crispy Dan. My professional nom-day-ploom.â He wiggles his false teeth at Livvy and makes her laugh.
There is only room in the cab for two other people, Grandma and Mrs. Perth, but Crispy Dan has put a kitchen chair in the back of the panel for Daddy to sit on, and a foam mattress for Livvy and me.
âIâm gonna have to lock the back so you donât all fall out,â Crispy Dan says, âso Iâm assigninâ you, Livya, to be the
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