Eileen Loveman Daily Posting

This is the story of George and Bob who were brothers.

 

One was older than the other.

 

But I forget which one.

 

It was Tuesday morning, and George was walking to school.

 

The snow was falling lightly around him, but he was prepared for the feel of the wetness of the snow as it landed on his nose and shoulders. His wool hat was secured around his ears underneath the hood of his coat, tied tightly under his neck by Mommy. She had pulled it snug just after handing him his book bag and lunch box.

 

George was walking the route to Samuel Jackson Elementary School by himself this morning. All his siblings were sick with the flu and, as usual, he felt fine.

 

"Thank goodness!" said Mommy as she poured the cereal into his breakfast bowl.

"You never get sick, George!" and she gave him a kiss on the cheek. She turned to go back upstairs with a tray full of other half full cereal bowls and glasses of juice, to deliver them to the sick ones, coughing and hacking and feverish.

 

Mommy, whose real name was Madeline, never got sick either. He supposed he got his strong anti sick germs from her.

 

As he crunched among the last leaves of Fall on the sidewalk, he thought about what it would be like if it were just him. He kinda liked walking by himself this morning, no one yelling "Hurry up, George!" like his brothers Bob & Frank, or "Wait up, will ya?" like his sister Francine.

 

As a matter of fact, he liked that Francine wasn't around bugging him at all. He was really getting sick of her lately, she always seemed to be bugging him about something! "Play with me, George?, Can I come too George?, What's that, George?, What are doing now George?" and on and on an on!

 

She was driving him crazy!

 

"Why does she have to be like that?" he said out loud to himself.

Two squirrels that had been munching on fallen chestnuts lifted their heads as if to begin a conversation. George decided he didn't want to be seen talking to squirrels because it just looked too, well, squirrely.

 

Why can't she be more like me? he continued in his mind. Always yapping about something!  

 

Coming to the end of the street, he turned the corner and headed towards the big building further down on his right hand side of the road. Yellow school buses were lined up like giant caterpillars, one behind the other, their bumpers touching the bus ahead of it. George imagined them connected together like a train, the first one starting up and pulling the rest behind it.

 

The school building was old, built when Mommy was little. It had been there a long time. She loved going to Parent-Teacher conferences, because it gave her a chance to look at the old classrooms, and sometimes she would get all teary eyed remembering when she was a little girl. Sometimes George wished she would just stay home. He didn't like to see her get all mushy and teary eyed.

 

Getting closer to the entrance of Samuel Jackson Elementary School, he saw some of his buddies. Charlie and Ralph and Joe were all standing outside waiting for the doors to open. They were kept locked until the last possible moment, and then swung open like a whales mouth, enveloping all the kids who were cold and waiting to get inside for the school breakfast.

 

His friend Joe was one of the kids who ate breakfast there every morning. George wondered if he ate breakfast on the weekends, when school was closed.

 

"Good morning, George", he heard a deep voice behind him.

It was Mr. Bartlett, the principal. All the kids liked Mr. Bartlett, even though they called him Mr. Pear behind his back.

 

George turned around to face the tall man. He was really tall, about 6'2 inches. He, too, had gone to Samuel Jackson when he was a kid, played basketball in the same gym as George and his buddies. He had also gone to school the same time as his mother, only he was one year ahead of her.

 

"How's your mother, George?" He asked him, smiling widely.

His white teeth were big and shiny, just like him. His face shone with the moisture of the snowflakes, melting on his neat bearded face as he spoke.

 

"Fine, Mr. Pea..., eh Mr. Bartlett" and he coughed into his hand, trying to make it look like he had a frog in his throat. Mr. Bartlett just smiled.

 

"Everybody is home, sick with bad colds" he added, trying to sound more grownup than he felt.

 

"Even little Francine?" he asked shaking his head

 

"Yeah, she's got it the worst!" and he kinda smiled when he said it.

 

"Hmmm." The principal noticed the fact the boy was taking delight in his sister's illness.

 

He knelt down on one knee and began tieing his shoe; it was not yet time to begin wearing boots.

 

"Let me tell you something about sisters, George" and he motioned for the bundled up boy to come closer.

George wondered if he was going to talk to him very long, it was getting colder and he wanted to get inside. And he definitely didn't want to talk about his sister.

 

"Sisters are a pain, but you'll miss them when they're gone", his head still down as he tied the last knot of his shoelace.

"You miss them when they're not around and you'll wish you had one more day."

 

One more day for what, George though to himself.  Torture?

 

The principal looked up at George and gave him a wink.

"You best remember that."

 

The school bell rang then, shrill and loud like usual, and the doors opened wide to allow the sea of bodies push their way inside.  George nodded as the man stood up, and started instructions to the swarm of bodies to go slow, single file.

The day went by as usual, with nothing particularly different, except for the fact he didn't have anyone to sit and eat his lunch with.

 

Charlie, Ralph and Joe had gone home sick earlier in the day, just after taking the math test. George got an 89.

 

At dinner that night, Mommy served macaroni and cheese.

 

She piled a big glop of it on his dish as they sat at the kitchen table. She had already washed the dishes from earlier in the evening, having fed all the sick ones more tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches. They were all asleep, their fevers broken and resting peacefully.

 

Everything had been picked up and put away before taking the casserole dish out of the oven. Mommy liked a clean kitchen. The house was quiet, no t.v. or music in the background, how Mommy liked sometimes. The kitchen was nice and warm from the heat of the oven.

 

"So what did you do today, dear?" she asked him sweetly as she ate a forkful of the yellowy macaroni.

 

"Got an 89 on my math test" he said matter of factly. And Mr. Pear talked to me alittle....."

 

"Don't call him that!" she laughed, throwing a dish towel playfully at his face.

"Lord knows, we called him Pear face as kids", she said suddenly pensive.

"What that man had to deal with at such a young age......" and her gaze drifted off for a moment, remembering a simpler time and place. The pace of the day was beginning to catch up with her, and she rubbed her eyes with her fists, not wanting her son to see them begin to well up with tired tears.

 

"Huh?" George asked, shoveling another pile of macaroni into his mouth.

 

"Oh, it was just so sad," she said barely a whisper.

"His sister Christina, got polio, but the doctors didn't find it until she was barely able to move. It hit her very quickly; so sad. He was devastated. She was his only sister."

 

Mommy got up to get a napkin from the napkin holder on the counter. She blew her nose, and tossed the rumpled up tissue into the trash. She turned around, back against the sink and folded her arms across her chest; she didn't know how mothers beared losing a child. She knew her heart would break in two if she lost any of her children.

 

George looked at Mommy, remembering what Mr. Bartlett had said to him. He hadn't notice how sad the tall man looked when he was telling him what he did.

 

Sisters can be a pain in the neck, but you miss them when they are gone.

 

"Gone" George thought. He thought the man meant she had moved away.

 

"Mr. Bartlett's sister was gone and she wasn't coming back....You'll wish you had one more day. You best remember that."

 

After dinner, George helped Mommy with their dishes, placing them on the shelf as she dried them from the dish rack.  He felt more grown up than ever, being alone with Mommy for this short time. 

 

But he knew that he wouldn't want it to always be this way.  He missed playing with everyone, making funny faces at the boys, throwing green beans at his sister when she wasn't looking.  She laughed when she found out it was him who threw them.  Francine always laughed at his jokes, even when his brothers didn't.  Francine always laughed and he knew she did because she loved him.  

 

You best remember that. 

 

That's the story of George and Bob who were brothers.

 

One was older than the other.

 

But I forget which one.