Railroad Man by Alle Wells Page B

looking at the latest fashions in Flo’s movie magazines. Mother and I sat on the front porch watching the birds. Sadie took charge of five-year-old Dottie. Dottie wanted to climb the trellis that ran up the side of Mother’s back porch. Mother’s prized Clematis weaved its way in and out of the slats.
    Sadie ran toward Dottie and snapped, “No, no. Dottie, get down from there. You’ll hurt yourself and break Gamma’s flowers.”
    Dottie climbed higher and refused to come down.
    “ No! I want to climb tree.”
    “ It’s not a tree, Dottie, it will fall on you. Get down or I’m coming over there to get you.”
    The fragile lattice began to crack. The part holding Dottie broke off. Sadie reached out, caught the back of Dottie’s dress and pulled her out from under the lattice before it hit the floor. Dottie cried and threw a tantrum. Wiggling out of Sadie’s hold, she ran in the house to find Flo. Sadie looked frazzled when she reached the front steps and told us the story.
    “ Mickey, you’d better take a switch to that child and teach her to mind. If you don’t, she’s going to hurt herself.”
    Feeling satisfied after a good meal, I passed Sadie’s comment off as coming from an old maid who had been around too many children.
    “ Oh, let her be. She’s just curious is all.”
    ***
    Flo was a stargazer. She loved movies and the people in them. She stopped at the newsstand on Wednesdays and stocked up on every movie magazine she could find. Flo had a three-legged table in the bathroom as high as the big claw foot tub. She kept her magazines stacked on the table next to a floor lamp. After putting Dottie to bed, she’d lie in a bubble bath and read her magazines.
    It was the hottest Saturday afternoon I can remember. Flo fanned herself on the porch. I sat across from her, admiring her figure in a pair of shorts, matching halter top, and sandals. I thought that Flo had to be one of the best dressed women in Atlanta as much as it cost to clothe her. When I looked at her sexy legs that day, my mind wasn’t on money. She became more beautiful over the years, or maybe her beauty had grown on me. Sophia had been right; I’d learned to love her. Our love for Dottie bonded us and made us a family.
    Dottie begged Flo, “I wanna swim, Mommy. Wanna swim.”
    Swimming to Dottie was splashing around and walking on her hands and knees in the big claw foot tub.
    “ Well, Honey, it sure is hot enough to swim.”
    Flo picked up Dottie even though the child’s legs nearly touched the ground. Dottie stuck her thumb in her mouth and leaned her full weight on her mother’s tiny shoulders. Flo was a good mother. I couldn’t have expected more from her. She kept Dottie safe and happy. I held the screen door open for them.
    “ You want a Tru-Ade?” I asked Flo.
    She looked at me over her shoulder. “Sure, an orange one.”
    I walked to the icebox and popped the caps off the sodas on the wall opener. On the way back, I leaned on the door frame and watched Flo wrestle Dottie’s clothes off.
    Dottie whined, “I want Fluffy.”
    “ No, Baby, you can’t get Fluffy wet.”
    Dottie reached for Flo’s magazines. “I want book.”
    Flo said, “No, Dottie. Don’t touch Mommy’s books.”
    Dottie jiggled the pole lamp and looked up at the ends of the gold fringe swaying back and forth on the red velvet lamp shade.
    “ I want Miss Light.”
    Flo pulled the chain under the lamp shade “All right, I’ll turn on Miss Light. But don’t touch my books.”
    Flo grabbed Dottie’s arms and swung her over the side of the tub.
    “ Wheee! Go swimming. Mommy and Daddy will be right outside.”
    Dottie started to splash around. I gave Flo the soda. We stood in the doorway and watched Dottie for a couple of minutes, then went back to the porch. Flo and I sat in white Adirondack chairs on the porch and watched two burly men carry furniture into the house next to us.
    “ Who are those people, Mick?”
    I took a swig of the Tru-Ade.