Running Bear

runningbearI didn’t think mom and dad were fair! They had taken me to the theater plenty of times before and I had no concept of ratings, so all I could think of was their meanness. I loved the movie theater, the movies and all that came with them, even though by today’s standards the Naval Base Movie House would have rated $1 Theater at best. It was damp, had sticky floors and a tinny sound system, and bats – live bats – at the ceiling that would sweep down after mosquitoes in the butter flavored air. But ratings didn’t matter to me and now I was mad and wanted to get even, so I called my friend Tina a few doors down.

Before I dialed, I ran into the room I shared with my big brother and threw some things in a battered blue overnight case, a cast off from my sisters. I threw in some underwear and socks, a few t-shirts, and jeans. I was already wearing my favorite red boots and I could carry the bear. I gingerly carried the case with me down the hall, treading lightly on the linoleum lest my siblings overhear, and set it with care next to the telephone table that I always felt too much like a school desk for my comfort.

I sat down gently and dialed the phone.

One ring.
I craned to see who was around.

Two rings.
I could feel a hot redness creeping up my neck.

Three rings.
I wasn’t sure that I could do this.

Four…
I clutched the bear.

Thank God Tina answered.

I cupped my hand around the receiver and whispered my plan into the phone. I was going to live at her house. I was running away.

I told her it was Okay because my parents were only a few doors down and I could go to school with her. Nobody would miss me, I could help cook or clean to earn my keep, and I would even share the bear. Surely this sacrifice would seal the deal. My plea was well thought out and earnest.

Tina, who normally jumped at the chance for a sleepover, suddenly sounded hesitant. She needed to ask her parents. She let go of the phone.

The few moments of confidence I felt as I wooed my “would be” roommate dissipated as quickly as steam. I knew Tina’s father. I was a little afraid of Tina’s father. He had a bald head, a mustache and was, to me at least, a tall and imposing figure. I could hear him talking faintly through the phone line and it didn’t sound friendly. I held the bear a little tighter as I scanned the parts of the house I could see to make sure that I was still clandestine. By the time Tina came back on the line, I had become aware of my breathing, amplified by the mouthpiece and damp around my nose. The hair on my neck where my braids met was becoming ringlets as my nerves outran the air conditioner. She took so long! Then she broke the news.

Apologetically she explained that I couldn’t come over. Her parents would tell and she would get in trouble. She was really sorry, but I had to stay home. I felt the last of my foolish hot air expire like last week’s helium. Her father said no and I deflated. I hadn’t even had a chance. I told Tina goodbye and hung up, dejected and defeated, awash in humiliation and shame.

What was I to do? I was beaten. The power I once had to get what I wanted had disappeared with my diapers, even though the desire for it had not, and six-year-old tantrums aren’t tolerated. I was the overthrown despot, done in by age. I realized that being six years old wasn’t all it was cracked up to be and I was going to miss a lot of movies. No longer concerned with staying undercover, I tucked the bear under one arm, dragged the case back to the bedroom and shut the door. One by one I put the clothes back in my dresser and then put the case in the closet on top of the toy box. The bear, he stayed with me. He stayed with me as I cried and dried my childish tears.

Sometimes it takes a revelation, no, a revolution, to learn who we are. I never, ever tried to run away again. The next week, my mom and dad took me to the movies.

runningbearutImage info

Manipulated with Photoshop.  Distributed under license here

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