Читать книгу The Moment Keeper - Buffy Andrews - Страница 16

Olivia bites into an apple and her eyebrows jump to the top of her forehead. She pulls the apple away to look at it.

“Mom,” she yells. “My tooth’s in the apple.”

Elizabeth sets down the basket of laundry. “So it’s finally come out. That tooth has been dangling for days.”

Olivia grabs some tissue and dabs the blood. She hands her mom the apple.

“Emma got a dollar for her tooth last week,” Olivia says. “Wonder what the tooth fairy will bring me.”

Elizabeth pulls the tiny tooth out of the apple. “Guess you’ll have to put your tooth under your pillow tonight and see.”

Olivia jumps up and down. “I have that special pillow Daddy bought me. It has a pocket for the tooth.”

Elizabeth smiles. “I forgot about that. You’ll have to show Daddy when he gets home.”

By the time I lost my first tooth, Matt wasn’t living with us anymore. Despite Grandma’s efforts to get him help, he sank deeper and deeper into a drunken abyss.

Sometimes, I’d catch Grandma looking through old photos of Matt when he was a baby. She even showed me a lock of hair from his first haircut and a baby-food jar filled with his baby teeth. Grandma did the same for me. She kept a curl from my first haircut in a plastic baggie and she covered a baby-food jar with pink construction paper and wrote “Sarah’s teeth” with a black marker on the side. I lost my first tooth at school.

“Look, Rachel,” I said, pinching one of my bottom teeth with my thumb and index finger and wiggling it. “Grandma said it will come out soon.”

“Want me to pull it?” Rachel asked. “My dad pulled mine and got it out.”

I shook my head. I wasn’t brave enough.

“It doesn’t hurt,” Rachel said. “I’ll do it quick. Promise.”

For a second or two, I considered Rachel’s offer but the bell rang and we had to go back to our classroom. Recess was over.

I kind of forgot about my loose tooth until I took a bite of my peanut butter and jelly sandwich at lunch and something crunched in my mouth. I spit out the chewed blob of sandwich and found my tooth inside it.

“You did it.” Rachel clapped.

Rachel was always my biggest cheerleader. No matter how bad something was, she’d always find something good in it.

Tom opens the car door for Olivia and bows as she slips into the back seat. It’s daddy-daughter date night and they’re headed to dinner and the ballet.

“When I grow up I want to be a ballerina,” Olivia says.

“You’d make a beautiful ballerina. It takes a lot of practice, though.”

“Miss Dawn says that we should practice every day, and I do.”

Tom nods.

“Emma does karate. Why does she do that and not ballet?”

Tom smiles. “Because it’s what she likes. Just like you like chocolate cake and Mommy likes vanilla. It’s good when people like different things. If everyone liked the same thing, the world wouldn’t be as interesting.”

“But what if someone likes chocolate and vanilla?”

“That’s OK, too. But sometimes you can only have one and you need to decide which one it will be.”

“Why can’t I have both?”

“We don’t always get what we want, Libby. You’re little and most of the things you have to decide are little like you. But when you get to be a big girl, the decisions will be harder to make. Sometimes you can have chocolate, sometimes you can have vanilla and sometimes, if you’re lucky, you can have both.”

I can see the wheels turning inside Olivia’s head. She doesn’t entirely understand, but I know that with age comes wisdom. I pray that the little girl I am keeping moments for will always get whatever flavor cake she wants.

I looked at the pink sign with green lettering on the school door. “Daddy-Daughter Dance.”

“Are you going?” Tracey Carmichael asked.

Tracey was in my first-grade class.

I shook my head.

“Why not? It’ll be fun.”

“I don’t have a dad.”

Tyler Butler overheard me and walked over. “You do too have a dad. I’ve seen him. He rides a motorcycle and has tattoos on his arms and a red bandana on his head. My mom said he’s a biker.”

“He’s not my dad.”

“Then who is he?”

“His name’s Matt.”

I walked away from Tracey and Tyler. I didn’t want to talk to them anymore. When I got home, Grandma asked me what was wrong. She said she could tell I was upset about something because I was extra quiet and I didn’t want my usual afterschool snack of Oreos and apple juice.

A tear slipped from my eye, followed by another. Within seconds, it became a deluge. It was as if the tears had been holed up all day just waiting for the right moment to bust loose. “There’s a dance for daddies and daughters and I don’t have a daddy and everyone else does.”

Grandma bent down and wrapped her saggy arms around me and kissed me on the forehead. “I’m sorry, Sarah. I wish things were different. But we don’t always get the things that we want.”

“Like the time I wanted chocolate-chip ice cream and there was only that yucky kind?”

“Exactly,” Grandma said. “Sometimes yucky’s all there is and you have to make the best of it.”

“Like you putting chocolate syrup on it?”

Grandma nodded. “It made it taste better, didn’t it?”

I smiled. “Yeah. It tasted better.”