The A Girls Archive

A journey is not epic unless the travelers are heroes.

Alice, the eldest, has not yet decided which college she will honor with her unmarred grade point and painfully groomed, terribly proper presence. Her one true love is a young man named Bill, and one day they will marry and produce children. Alice knows their names already though Bill will not propose for several months as planned. Currently, she is insanely far out of her expected element and in a denial so deep that she may unbutton her shirt one button too many.

Alma, the middle child, should still be in high school and has made sure that the attendance records do reflect that even though she has been sitting in courses on topics of her choosing elsewhere. The range of these topics have seen her in the company of gas station sages, college professors, barmaids, a small militia made up of veterans, and her boyfriend Mark’s posse of self proclaimed geeks who call themselves The Kings of 3 AM to name a few.  She’s usually well planned and subtle but has been overcome by the lust for new gadgetry.

April is the baby and she pronounces that “babay” when she’s brazenly flirting with whichever guy wins and keeps her affection. So far the longest a man has kept her full attention has been two weeks and she cannot remember his name. She was married once in a fit of hormonal rebellion but insists that marriage takes work and practice. Practice that she is usually ready to perform and does so very well. The reputation that precedes her withers in comparison to the reputation she leaves behind.  On a normal day she’s proud of herself. On a chaotic day, she’s blissful. Right now though, she is so appalled at the language being used by someone who is not herself that she has been struck dumb.

Agatha is the mother of three daughters. Though having sons was still the more favorable mode of family planning when they were born, her husband, the father, joyously named his daughters in honor of his wife by choosing their A names. Agatha survived a decade of sock hops and another of hippie shakes and still another of disco dancing and not without a few hidden stories and talents of her own. She has a tattoo that reads “Wild Child” on her lower back that only the father has ever seen as he is the one who put it there. At the moment her attempts at bonding with her nearly grown daughters has lead her to naming, the abdication of the mother role and not a little bit of peril.

And now, back to A Girls’ Escape: Part Three.

“Get in the damn car.” Neither the Mother’s use of profanity nor the fact that the wagon’s front end had come to a rapid stop in the middle of the sidewalk peaked Alma’s curiosity about the proffered ride. Far from the case. However, just as she was mid pivot toward the back alley – back yard route, she saw April in the back seat painting her toenails.

“Where are we going? And if you get that stuff on me I will light you on fire, April.” Alma asked and threatened while opening the front passenger door.

“Shut the door. Shut your mouth. And count my money.” The mother tossed her purse in Alma’s lap taking some amusement in the slackness of her sweet smart alec’s jaw.

“I want to hear numbers! Big numbers!” April shouted as the wagon sped off toward their home. Ignoring April, Alma stayed quiet and dug through the mother’s wallet looking behind every picture for hidden twenty dollar bills. She’d found four by the time they pulled in the driveway.

“Get in the damn car, Alice.” The mother’s second use of the phrase had less of a trying-to-scare- the-pee-out-of-you tone to it, and Alma chuckled a little to see Alice’s terrified expression.

“Now! You tighter than tight, stingy piece of perfect princess prickly ass b…”

“Do not make me take off my shoe.” The mother stopped April’s tirade with the only threat she was ever known to make good on: The back seat shoe stinger. The mother’s near perfect aim and the unreasonable amount of speed she could get on a shoe toss at close range was legendary. April became silent and went back to painting her toes.

Alice quietly got into the back seat sitting as far away from her sisters as possible. “Doesn’t this wagon have a trundle seat thingy in the back? Can’t April sit back there? She has wet nail polish out!” Alice whined through the sound of the car kicking up gravel.

“Okay, we’re at two hundred bucks in hidden twenties.” Alma finally broke the monotony of the road noise on the westbound highway. “Look in the zipper pocket inside the purse and then look in the gold lipstick tubes that I know each of you has on you right now. And then check behind the dog’s picture.”

“Seriously, Max gets a c-note and we all get twenties. So bs.” Alma noted finding a hundred dollar bill behind the picture of their deceased family pet, and all three girls shifted around in their seats to find their lipstick funds. Alice passed her tube to Alma politely but April threw hers at the back of Alma’s head. “Fire. I will light you on fire, April.” Alma growled gathering the tubes in her lap.

“Do not test her further, infidel.” Alice chimed in and there came so pregnant a silence in response to Alice’s being the unlikely first to find a sense of humor that when April laughed, snot flew from her nose onto a drying toenail.

“We are going to the beach. We’re going to have a great time and when we get home you are going to tell the father how great the beach was and how much we all love each other. In detail.” The mother said this as she took the off ramp that did not lead to any beach access roads. The laughing became louder.

“I can completely understand why you only have ten dollars in your fund, April. Those whiles and all, but what I cannot understand is why you, Alice, would only have a fiver! You know better than that.” Alma shouted back to her sisters over the sound of the engine.

“And yours?” The mother asked.

“Oh she got seventy six in there. It’s tighter’n she is.  There’s a few i.o.u’s too. And one’s from .” April stopped mid sentence realizing she’d given herself away.

“I HAD a full hundred in here, skank thief.” Alma sighed.

“Why would she steal a skank?” Alice asked.

“So she wouldn’t be lonely.” The mother added the punchline and April was too pleased at the mother’s change in demeanor to be upset that the low blow, strictly reserved for the inner circle, had been delivered by one she considered far too old to be cool.

“We have a little under four fifty in total. Now where are we going and should I remind you that I have memorized not only the police, fire and news tip lines for the two county area, but that I am also on a first name basis with the main secretary at children’s services?” Alma in a sudden fit of calm said to the wind shield, refusing to be intimidated by the new changed and revved-up mother.

“Frieda! I love Frieda! We were having a smoke at the foot ball game last week and … shit. Hey, can we call some kind of stand still on punishments on this beach trip cause if not, I can’t tell you like three quarters of the shit. Shit. Can we swear too? I need some negotiating room here.”

“I got six traffic laws and one giant lie to the father in my pocket. What about you Alice?” Alma began the negotiations with a full on three daughter press. “I have two empty bottles of Riunite Lambrusco shoved in the outside trash at 3 AM last weekend,” Alice sang forward into her mother’s ear.

“Yes, Alice, and the effects of that wine have not worn off, nor are they likely to in the event that this beach trip is outed.” The mother countered.

“What? Are you still drunk?!” Alice screamed and April punched her. “No. She’s saying that the father got his good’n plenty going due to her being all buzzy like a bee back then. Or is it a bird? Are girls the birds and guys the bees? Is that why I heard an England guy saying “bird” to a woman on the channel that shows boobs?”

“I have no idea what you are talking about. Who the hell is this Frieda?” The mother asked all of her daughters.

Road noise being the only reply, mother made out her accord carefully. “Fine. You will all be given immunity from prosecution for the duration of this trip except in instances where life or limb could be at stake.”

“Aw shit then. I still can’t talk and I know for a fact Alma can’t.” April said.

“That is most certainly true. Alma is classified as a potential event crises by police in town.” Alice added.

“And your Bill’s violent protection has not escaped their interest either, Alice. He can get  pretty raw if someone messes with you.” Alma noted.

“Yeah, we’re all pretty set on the trigger, so you’re going to have to come up with better than some life and or limb bullshit.” April concluded displaying both palms punctuate their collective bottom line.

“So I am to assume that the only way we will be able to have a discussion is to wholly abdicate my role as your mother?” The mother asked.

Alice, primly, Alma gruffly and April full on head waggy nodded the affirmative.

“Hot damn. Buckle in bitches. We’re going to Disneyland!” The mother hollered as she pressed the accelerator.

April leaned over to ask Alice, “Isn’t Disneyland like a gabillion miles away?” Alice rolled up her window and patted her hair into place, “I’m going to go with metaphor on this one.” Both girls looked to Alma who, though there was no possibility she could have heard the conversation over the revving engine, shouted, “Yep! Metaphor!”

“You need to talk to someone.” Alice gave her recommendation to April with a thunk to the back of April’s bobbing head.

“I can’t hear your nonsense!” April hollered to the world and pointed at the head phones partially askew on her ears.

Alice stopped in her tracks ready to head the two steps back to April to exhibit very unladylike behavior. Alma, slyly peering up from a comic book, noted how Alice’s hands were clenched into fists. “Alice, if you hit her with a fist like that you will break your thumb. Your thumb goes on the outside of the fingers, not against the palm of your hand.”

“Of course you would know, Alma. Isn’t that a wonderful thing to know? How to punch someone. How to be violent.” Alice, like herself but amplified, stared a hole into Alma’s forehead.

“Well, Alice, to be honest it has come in handy and not a few times in your defense. So knock it off. What’s your problem?” Alma shut her comic book making it clear that the last question was an offer as well as a rebuke.

“She needs help. She’s out of control.” Alice raised her voice answering Alma but directing her volume at the back of April’s head.

“Do you have a specific reason why or is it the usual? Really Alice, I need details if I am going to help in any way.”

At that Alice stomped from the room yelling after her, “Who asked you for your help?! You’d just make things worse!”

Alma eased out of her chair and sat down on the floor next to a head bobbing April. “I see you have borrowed her shoes. I assume without asking, but that’s not enough to question your mental state is it? I mean they are pretty ugly but come on.”

April ignored the invitation to commiserate and began to hum and move her shoulders to a beat.

“What is up with you two? Wait. Why do I care?” Alma pressed her hands against the floor ready to give up and then she noticed the floor. More precisely she noticed the lack of anything on the floor.

“April, those headphones aren’t connected to anything?” Alma asked and was ignored. April kept on humming. As Alma stood trying to suss out what was going on and trying to figure out why she was even interested, the mother yelled down from the top of the stairs, “April! Get you butt up here this minute!”

April ignored the demand and began to sway to what seemed like it may have been a jazz or blues tune.

“She is not listening to anything!” Alma answered for April with unintended rebellion.

A furious thumping grew more imperative as it came closer. The mother appeared over the banister to the living room where two of her daughters were bobbing their heads. ‘What the… April! Where is all of my make up? What have you done? Answer me!”

April, without looking over to the mother threw the headphones to the ground and made a run for the door. Alma instinctively put a foot out.

“Sorry Ape. Habit.” She held a hand out to her sister who had fallen and lay splayed face down on the carpet. “Screw you, Alma!” April cried and real tears started to come from her. Alma could tell they were real because April’s face had turned berry red.

“Okay. I have no idea what is going on here, but I am out of this. It’s an every day disaster with you people.” Alma slapped her hands to her thighs and walked outside to sit on the front steps and look at ants.

Alice, who’d taken up residence for toe examination on the far east end of the porch sighed loudly.

“I’m not going to ask, so you can stop your sighing.” Alma said.

“She’s crazy. She almost got me fired. There are four girls coming over to beat her up and she has two bottles of vodka in her closet. And a funnel.” Alice continued her toe examination and began to push the cuticles back from the nails.

Alma turning to see Alice noted, “So is it just me or is toe picking in public just about the grossest thing a person can do?”

“She stole three pounds of fudge and smeared it all over my boss’ son’s car. She threw a jumbo cherry slush at the witches who always push that stroller around town. And she broke stuff. Stuff she can’t hope to repay. I don’t know if my boss called the police or not. He just asked me to leave for the day and take care of her.” Alice stopped picking at her toes and began to cry, “Why are all of my sisters so embarrassing? What did I do to deserve this?”

“You know his name?” Alma began ticking off a list of the usual suspects in her head.

“No boy this time. She’s just nuts.” Alice whined and threw her hands down to her sides.

Alma pushed herself up and brushed off her back side making ready to investigate but the mother stood in the doorway. Then she turned silently back to the living room and shut the door. “I suppose I am to assume there will be no closure.” Alma said.

“Who cares about your closure. I don’t. You can stop talking to me now.” Alice replied.

“I was talking to myself. Better company.” Alma shot back and made her way down the front steps from the porch.

“I’m glad you like it. Knowing you, it’s all you’ll have for a very long time.” Alice said it just loud enough to make Alma quicken her pace to the sidewalk.

In four separate places a single thought merged in the wind, “I have got to get out of this place.”

“What the hell is going on with you?” April’s concern was evident before she even spoke as she had kicked Alma in the side of the head.

“I was looking at a turtle and if you ever do that again I will rip your damned leg off. Now, what in the sam hill are you talking about.”

“I heard that you were going out with Ricky this weekend.” April folded her arms as if this information was enough to cause a boot to the head.

“Yeah I am. He asked and I thought it was a decent idea. What’s your problem?”

“For starters he is a loser. He is not good enough for you. He is boring. He is an ass and he is not worth your time. If you marry him I will kick you in the face. God will hurt you if you breed with him. I cannot believe how low your standards are. You cannot date that jerk.” April continued to hold her arms around her body and shifted in her shoes.

“Listen Ape, I have my reasons and he is not all that bad.” Alma gave up looking for the turtle and stood upright.

“But he is boring. Give me that at least.” Alma nodded at April, “I’ll give you that.”

Alice pulled up at the end of the walk and the girls loaded into the car. “I hear you’re going out with Ricky this weekend. His daddy’s the one with the explosives in the basement right?”

Alma looked out of the back passenger window, “Yeah.”

“Well damn Alma. Why didn’t you say so to start?” April put a hand back to Alma in a gesture of pure love, “I would never have kicked you in the head if I knew you were going to blow stuff up. I am sorry, Alma.”

“S’okay. I blowing up your last ex-boyfriend’s boat.” All three girls nodded understanding as wind from the road messed their hair.

“Technically, it’s a dingy not a boat. And why are you going to blow it up anyway?” April asked Alma about her intentions a few days after accepting the inevitable.

“I know what it is and I am blowing it up because I need to make some noise off shore and some light too. Got fireworks to go on top and a timing mechanism that’s outta sight. Just have to figure out how to get it out on the lake and swim back to shore before she blows. Any ideas?”

April considered this, “Have you asked Alice? I think she’ll know.”

Alma rolled her eyes until it hurt, “She’s angry with me for that bug incident.”

“I’ll do it. Be right back.” April ran up the stairs to Alice’s fortress and ignoring all set and written rules jumped into her room without knocking.

“What up meanie? Hey, got a problem for you . . .”

Alice turned a page in her romance novel and without looking up said, “You get another boat and tow the one you’re going to leave.”

“Oh yeah, great thinkin’ meanie.” April headed out but not without feeling the brunt of a penny loafer to her shoulder.

Later at the corner ice cream shop, Alma and old Besty sat to chat over chocolate sodas.

“So why do you need my brother’s canoe?” Betsy sipped her ice cream soda completely oblivious to the reason it was bought for her.

Alma bit her lip and redirected the conversation, “So Betsy, you have plans for the fourth?”

“Yeah! We’re going to my uncle’s in Idaho and . . .” Alma stopped listening and waited until words ceased leaking out of Betsy to ask one last question.

Upon returning home Alma set out to sharpen her tools. “Why you getting the lock picks ready? Oh come on, just let me help. I’m bored.” April had finished a large glass of red pop and was quite energized. “It’s the fourth right? A little stereotypical isn’t it?”

“Plausible deniability.” Alma said and both girls got to cleaning the set.

Alice came downstairs to refresh her tea and the girls looked up at her concerned. “Uhm, can you be more obvious?”

Alma, by way of distraction, piped up, “We need a wagon. Kiss some boy April and get a wagon. We have to get the canoe to the water.”

Both girls looked at Alice expecting a zinger for April to whine over but none came.

“Come on Alice. That’s right up your alley and an easy one too.” Alma encouraged the normalcy of their sibling rivalry and April, forever giving of herself in so many ways added, “Yeah! Where’s my whore joke?”

Alice took her tea and headed back for the stairs, “Just not myself yet I guess. I suppose I don’t want to know what you two are really up to anyway hunh? Dingy for fireworks my bum.”

After she’d gone Alma and April shared a look and a nod. No better pep talk had ever crossed their paths.

“You still have those brass knuckles, Alma?”

“Yep. Top drawer of my desk.”

“If you can see, can you tell me which girl you think it was?’ The uniformed officer was gentle with the boy and tried to keep from wincing when he looked at his young mangled face.

“Yeah I can see. I don’t know which one of them it was, but I know it was one of them.” The boy was surly and fresh bandaged from the emergency room.

“How do you know it was one of them?” The officer asked and the boy explained, “I was at the golf course with that stuck-up one last month and she wouldn’t put out. I tried hard too. Dick tease. Shoulda took the slut. And then last night that one told me that if I ever even looked at any of them again she would squeeze my boys until they exploded. Then when I got up to see the fireworks, one of them attacked me from behind and sucker punched me to the ground. Then they did this to me. Nobody heard me yellin’. I wrestled away when one had me in a scissor hold and I bit her leg good. Otherwise we’d be here for murder.”

Alma laughed and blurted, “That is so funny. You would be in the morgue if you had been murdered silly.”

Alice slapped Alma’s arm and asked the officer, “Can we just show you our legs to check for bite marks? That way this loser can be satisfied that he was not humiliated by any of us? We’re all wearing skirts it will be easy and you will have our full cooperation. The mother has her permanent consent for body searches on file here too. That’s common knowledge.”

While the officer considered this the boy looked across the table to the three girls. Alice seemed upset and nervous. Alma was examining the officer’s trousers as if they were from outer space. And then he paused on April who had been giving him the stink eye and holding up her middle finger to him the entire time with out flinching.

“Officer? Is she allowed to flip me off like that?” The boy nodded to April who added another hand to the performance and leaned forward bearing her teeth at him.

“Ah . . . That’s a good idea Alice. Let’s see those bite marks, if there are any, and this will be done. Tiffany can you take these girls to the next room and check them out!” Thinking this the easy way out of a potentially newspaper worthy confrontation the officer motioned for the girls to follow is colleague to the next room.

After Tiffany had relayed her findings the officer was relieved, “I am so sorry to have put you through this girls. You can go now.” The officer looked back at the boy and shrugged, “If you can find me the bite marks that match your story I will be there for you, Paul.”

Outside Alice’s poker face and fast thinking impressed her sisters who were both fighting smiles awkwardly. “Really April, when one is interrogated one should at least wear one’s own underwear. And really I never thought you’d date a guy who’d wear briefs.” April shrugged, “I was in a hurry. Man, that officer had a nice weapon.”

Alma, a little confused due to a rather high dose of antibiotics and some blood loss said, “But he didn’t have a gun. I checked for a gun just in case . . . Oh you’re being perverted again. I getcha. Ha. Can you believe that wuss ass thought he bit me in the leg?”

“Where are you going?” Alice wasn’t usually so nosey but as Alma had just topped her backpacking with a baggie full of matches at three am, she thought it would be prudent to inquire.

“None of your business, Alice.” Alma whispered with a tone of warning that made Alice guess as to the reason for her supposed departure.

“Are you leaving because that nerdy boy doesn’t like you? That’s so stupid, Alma. Boys shouldn’t affect anything you think, say or do.” In hushed tones Alice recited her own rules for dealing with men as if they were common knowledge.

“First, that nerdy boy is my friend and we are going out this weekend. Second, with your relationship logic it makes sense why your Bill was down at The Lemontree getting drunk last night.”

April in a loud stage whisper called up to the bedroom window where the two girls were standing, “Now!”

The backpack hit the drive and April caught it on the first bounce, ran to a motorcycle at the end of the driveway, hopped on back and was gone in the night.

“Who the hell was that scumball she ran away with?” Alice pulled Alma to look her in the face.

“Watch your language, Alice. You are talking about your first new brother-in-law. Granted, he will probably be one of many, but let’s be nice.” Alma left the room knowing Alice would fly after her.

During the time it took to avoid creeky stairs and make their way down to the back porch to talk out of parental ear shot, Alice did some figuring.

On the porch they both observed the starry sky as if it were an altar, “Did you pack that fake tube of lipstick with money in it?” Alice finally asked.

“Three of ‘em.”

“Shh. The father just found out.” Alice had her ear to the pocket doors of the dining room on the other side of which the mother was telling the father that his youngest girl had run off and gotten married. The doors slid open and cracked into their sockets like never before and . . . “Alma! Get in here!”

Alma put on her best solemn face and plodded to the kitchen table where she stood staring at her feet while Alice made herself inconspicuous and grinned.

“Well?” The father had an understanding with just about everyone and everything that permitted him to communicate using single words and grunts most of the time.

“She was dead set on it. If we tried to stop her, we would have failed and she would have done something even more stupid. I trust her intellect more than her judgment. He is cute but he is boring and she will be back soon. Also, you can have it annulled. I looked it up at the library. She needs your permission to cross state lines so even if she can get married there, it’s not valid. May I suggest that she pay the court fees for the annulment?” Alma dictated as quickly as possible so that the focus would be on problem solving and not on grounding.

“When?” The father seemed to grow less perturbed at each syllable.

“Given April’s need for excitement and her constant contact with her friends, I would say that as soon as something good happens here and she hears about it, she’ll be back without him.”

“Plan?”

“Uhm. Can I also suggest that she pay for the research and development fees for this whole debacle?”

“Alma!”

“Okay. Alice and Bill could break up and Bill could be seen hitting on Mary Ellen Moluse. April hates her and it would be a good revenge opportunity. She will not be able to resist.”

Alice finally stopped grinning and jumped in, “Why the heck do I have to suffer? It’s not fair! Oh, he won’t do it anyway. You’ll have to think of another way.”

Just then the phone rang shocking the mother who had been silently sitting by it all the while. “Yes? Okay.” The mother held out the phone to the father and nodded.

The father listened for a second and then hung up the phone and grabbed his keys from the table with business like acuity. “Alma and Alice get in the van. We are going to get your sister.”

An hour later the three girls sat on a curb outside of a soda fountain in a small town just across state lines. The father came out of the shop and deposited one milkshake in each of his daughters’ hands as if he was depositing safety itself.

As he joined them he commented before taking a sip of his own shake, “Bill’s fast.”

Alice snapped her head in the father’s direction but was stayed by April’s timely and very accurate observation, “Yeah. He has got to love Alice something fierce if he would hit on that bag of donkey crap just to get her sister back home. You should marry him. It’s really fun!”

Alma shoved April’s shake to her face to silence her and thereby accrued what would be the largest favor debt to date.

“So she asked me, ‘Aren’t you the mother of those odd girls with the A names?’ Can you believe that?” The mother had no intention of listening to an answer so she continued even though the father made as if to speak and then ceded the dinner table yet again. The tirade lasted throughout the shoe-leather bottom round and the box potatoes many of which escaped moisture altogether in the mixing.

“I figured I should do something about it, just in case. So I called Michelle Horvath and she said the girls could come over and spend some time with their family.” All clinking of plates stopped and since the meat required a significant amount of sawing with dulled blades this sudden silence took the father aback.

“Hon? Have you thought this through? Are you going to send them all? Isn’t that . . .” The father was cut off again and did not seem to mind.

“Oh no. I figured just April and Alma could go. Alice could pass as normal to look at her. It’s the other two who have no idea what the outside world thinks when it encounters them. For crying out loud, Alma has already tried to shave her head because. . .what was it . . .’hair is nonsense,’ and April cannot . . . well, just look at her.”

The father turned his eyes to the other end of the dinner table at his daughters two of whom were glaring at the mother and clutching cutlery. April was wearing a swim cap covered in crayon daisies and pierced all over with barrettes and bows. Alma had on a dive mask and a snorkel was hanging dead against her cheek. Alice was reading a romance novel and could not be bothered once she heard of her reprieve from the visitation to normalcy.

Having not completely swallowed her mouthful of potato flakes Alma’s remark came decorated with a puff of whitish dust, “Oh good. I thought for a minute there you had gone blind and did not realize we were sitting here, you know, in earshot? My mistake.”

The father quickly shoved an enormous piece of beef into his mouth and sat back for a very long chew. “You will be going to the Horvath’s tomorrow after lunch. They will be providing dinner and you will be searched before you leave.” The mother smiled a nonsmile at Alma as she laid down the law.

“We don’t have much time to plan Ape.” Alma whispered amid April’s plush toy cell block in post dinner commiseration.

“Do you think they are allowed to say ‘shit’ at the Horvath’s house?” April was genuinely curious and began to make list of words to ask the Horvaths about and continued, “Well, I know they have to say ‘damn.’ Everyone says that. And ‘dumbass’ too.”

“She said they would be providing dinner. You know, this might be interesting. I wonder if they have sharp knives.” And both Alma and April began to feel as if this new experience might not be all bad.

“You are so toast.” Alice said from the doorway as a final judgment after hearing her sisters ponder the possibilities, “The Horvaths are normal people. Their kids are normal. A normal girl and a normal boy. They do normal things. You’ll be lucky to come out of it alive.”

Alma put her hand to her chin and mentally sized up the challenge, “We’re going to get to see how normal people react. Hmm.”

April’s eyes became huge in her prepubescent skull, “A boy will be there. Hmm.”

“So, April and Alma, how would you like some cookies!?” Mrs. Horvath’s question was nearly drowned out in the station wagon by her children who screamed with glee at the mention of cookies.

“Now Matthew and Renee, be gentle with our guests ears please. You act as if I never give you cookies.” Staring at Mrs. Horvath from the passenger seat, Alma was entranced with the interaction and she decided to be very proper. “Am I to assume from your offsprings’ reaction that the cookies of which you speak are delicious?”

“Uh. Well, Alma, you will have to be the judge of that. Here we are!” The station wagon seemed to position itself behind a powerboat as if to mount it. Renee and Matthew unbuckled and were out of the car and into the house before April and Alma had moved. “A boat,” they said in hypnotic unison.

April leaned forward and whispered to Alma, “Do you think her cookies are going to be like the mother’s? How are we going to get out of this Alma!?” The Christmas tray hockey puck platters had clearly left and impression.

“Let’s give it a try. I cannot tell if this mother is like ours or not.” The girls got out of the car and thanked Mrs. Horvath for holding the front door for them.

“Cook Es! Cook Es! Cook Es!” Was chanted and accompanied by fists pounding a table in the distance. Still just beyond the threshold, April grabbed Alma’s hand. With great wariness the two took seats at the table and waited silently as the chanting continued. A plate was plunked down and four little hands, none of which came from the girls, grabbed at the treats.

“Oh now you two! Be polite and let your guests have some first!” Renee and Matthew looked with scorn at their guests and threw the cookies back onto the plate as mandated. The girls hesitated. April was waiting for Alma and vice versa. “Oh come on! Just eat a cookie!” Matthew whined in frustration and this made April smile. She took a cookie and a bite.

Alma studied her intently. “What are you waiting for?” Renee asked Alma. “I want to see if she will die.” Alma responded with surgical seriousness. When April did not die or choke or break a tooth, Alma took her first bite into an honest to goodness homemade wonder. “These are fucking outstanding!” She shouted between chews not realizing her faux pas until it was too late.

Renee, Mattthew and Mrs. Horvath all stopped moving. April took the opportunity to grab several more cookies and shove them in her pants pockets. “I guess you guys don’t say the ‘fuck’ here? How about ‘shit?’ Do you say that? I was telling Alma last night that you must say ‘damn,’ ‘hell,’ ‘ass’. . .” When it was clear that April was about to embark on a journey that could put horrifying ideas into her son’s head, Mrs. Horvath interceded, “No April, we do not use curse words in this house. Do you do that over at your house?”

To the observers April and Alma shared only a tiny glance. To the girls a tacit agreement to lie like stadium sized rugs was made. Alma began, “Oh yeah. We don’t like it but they say everything at our house. I am sorry for my slip. It’s just that these cookies are so good, I lost track. The cookies we have eaten are the kind that hurt.” Everyone looked to April for verification, “Yeah, the last one the mother made me eat cut my damn gums. . . Sorry. Slipped. You are an amazing baker, Mrs. Horvath.” Alma was aghast and thrilled at April’s new advances in fabrication and flattery.

As if summoned by some unwritten trumpeting, Mrs. Horvath went into her kitchen and reappeared beside Alma with a plastic baggie, “You will take as many home as you like girls. Now children, you can go to the play room while I make dinner.”

The four meandered down a hallway like tiny drunken sailors. Renee lead them to the play room and Matthew followed behind. He paused for a moment and pulled at April’s arm, “That was a load of shit wasn’t it?” April smiled prettily in response and continued into the room.

This time, in the face of more gadgetry than either girl had ever seen in one place, Alma grabbed April’s hand and said what would become a standard pre-evaluation for years to come, “Oh this is going to be good.”