RUSH
MINDEN, LA
MARCH 1989
”What do you see, buddy?” Ophie says.
Bug. Big bug. I see a bug. It is big and red with black spots. It climbs up my arm. I crawl off the blanket. I want to see where it goes and catch it.
“Squashed,” I says. I show Ophie.
Ophie smiles. “Oh no! You’ve got to be a little more gentle, buddy. Look, look, look! What is that? What’s that crawling in the dirt? You remember that from our reading time?”
”Worm,” I says. “Mister Worm!”
“Very, very good,” Ophie says. “Next week, I’ll go to the library and get some more books. Some nice picture books.”
I point. “Ants!”
”Uh-oh. That ain’t good. They want to taste some our food. We better finish up before they gobble everything up!” Ophie says. “They hungry.”
”Hungry?” I says.
”That’s right buddy,” Ophie says. “They lookin’ for a snack.”
The sun bites, because we are outside, sitting on a blanket. I sit on Ophie’s lap. I see ants crawl. We have cookies and sandwiches. Ophie says it’s picnic. Ophie does not like the house.
Ophie give me sandwich.
“No,” I says.
”Rush,” Ophie says, “you’ve got to get at least some of this down. C’mon buddy. Open wide.”
”Yucky,” I says. “I want spaghetti.”
”But you love ham sandwiches,” Ophie says. “And we had spaghetti last night for dinner. We can’t have spaghetti every day.”
“Again! Again! Spaghetti, spaghetti, spaghetti!” I says. I stand and jump up and down. “I want spaghetti. Ophie, spaghetti!”
Ophie laughs and gives me water. I drink.
I pick up squished bug. Ophie smiles. Ophie says, “It’s called a ladybug, Rush. Can you say, ladybug?”
”Lavvyvug,” I says. “Lavy.” It like jelly.
”No, no, no!” Ophie takes bug. “Don’t eat that.”
I point. “Lavybug.”
Ophie says, “Very good.” Ophie wants me to eat, holds sandwich to my mouth. I chew.
“I want Mommy,” I says.
Ophie picks me up. “Not now, alright? Soon.”
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
“But I want Mommy,” I says.
Ophie says, “Let’s go on the swing.” But I don’t want to go on the swing. I want Mommy.
I want Mommy.
Ophie won’t let me go see Mommy. I have an ouchie inside. Ophie sits on the swing with me. My eyes are mushy. The ouchie hurts. I point.
”When will Mommy come?” I says.
Ophie rubs my face. I don’t like.
”No!” I says. “No!”
”It’s okay, buddy. I’m just wiping your nose.”
”I want Mommy,” I says.
”Don’t cry, don’t cry,” Ophie says. “It’s alright. You will see her soon. But I need you to be patient and wait for Mommy, okay? Mommy has done some very bad things. She’ll join you and I soon.” Ophie holds me tight. “I can tell you a story, Rush. How does that sound?”
“Story?” I shake no. “No!”
”You don’t like stories?” Ophie says.
”No!”
”I think you’ll like this one. I used to read fairy tales growing up. It’s about a fox and a hound.” Ophie says. “A hound is a big dog. That runs very, very fast.”
”Big dog?” I says. “With tail?”
”Yes, a real big one,” Ophie says. Ophie looks shiny. Ophie pushes the ground to move swing. I forget the story. The story is too long.
I can fly. “Higher, Ophie! Higher!”
Ophie stands. Ophie lifts me up high, high in the sky. I float. I laugh. Not scary, Ophie catches me. Ophie smiles. I tell Mommy that I can fly.
“Cookie.” I point to our picnic. “Cookie!”
Ophie says, “You’ve barely touched your sandwich. Let’s finish that first, alright?”
”Cookie, cookie, cookie!” I run. I am quick. I try to fly again, but Ophie picks me up, I float. Ophie holds me. Ophie hugs me.
I fly.
”Hmm,” Ophie says. Ophie holds me upside down. “There’s just one more thing I’ll have to do, I suppose. I’m going to cover you in honey and gobble you all up. Yum, yum, yum.”
I laughs. I hold my hands out. “Ophie!”
Ophie spins me around.
“Cookie Monster!” I sings. “Cookie Monster!”
“You are silly today, aren’t you?” Ophie says. “No more cookies, little guy. I’ve already given you half of one on the way here, Rush.” Ophie tickles me. The ouchie is gone, but Mommy isn’t. “You are my Cookie Monster.”
“Sesame Street!”
Ophie lifts me up. Ophie carries me. Ophie says, “Yes, he eats a lot of cookies. All those cookies would make my tummy hurt.”
I laugh and says, “Cookie?”
Ophie says, “We can watch some Sesame Street when we get back to the house, okay?”
“And Mommy can have my cookie.”
Ophie is quiet. I watch. Ophie has an ouchie, but it’s in Ophie’s eyes. I touch Ophie’s cheek. Ophie is still, because Simon says to be still.
”Cookie.” I says.
Ophie smiles, but has ouchie. Ophie puts hat on my head. “It’s a little big on you, but should keep the sun off your face.”
”Can’t see!” I says, but Ophie pushes it back. Ophie opens water bottle. “Here. Drink.”
Water is good. It’s cold.
“All done,” I says. I hold up my hands.
Ophie hugs me for a long time. Ophie says, “Let’s get back to the car. We’ll see if you are hungry later. How does the playground sound?” Ophie picks up picnic blanket. “And maybe I’ll take you to the ice cream shop downtown. It’s a hot day, after all.”
”Cookie,” I says. Ophie opens the door and puts me in my car seat. I have sweakers. I point. “I give Mommy my cookie.”
Ophie gets in car, closes the door and rolls down the windows. I am a whale and blow my mouth. I swing my legs.
“You want to listen to a song, buddy?” Ophie says. “I’m about to put a cassette in. I have Wheels on the Bus, the Itsy Bitsy Spider—”
”Rubber Duckie!” I says. ”RUBBER DUCKIE!”
Ophie turns and smiles at me. Ophie has big hair from the wind. “Rubber Duckie it is.”
But I still see the ouchie in Ophie’s eyes.