Shaped By a Day

Contributed by Nina Perez on 11/02/10

As we had every summer for as long as I could remember, the summer that I was eleven my family and I spent one full day at Coney Island. My most vivid childhood memories include those magical days of racing down the boardwalk, eating Nathan’s Hot Dogs on the beach, and sharing cotton candy with my brother and sister. I would remember that summer’s trip for the rest of my life because it was filled with those simple moments of pleasure only a child could appreciate. The fact that it would also turn out to be the last day my family could be considered that, a family, was just a coincidence.

While most kids in our neighborhood would spend that day playing Skelly and Freeze Tag in the heat until their parents came home, my brother Todd, sister Tammy, and I would spend that day with our parents. It was rare for my father to take a day off from work, but he did so for these trips. He said it was to avoid the crowds on the weekend, but I suspect he knew that going in the middle of the week made the day more special for us. It allowed us to march down the steps of our brownstone and be, as Tammy put it, “all show-offy” as we piled into the brown Oldsmobile parked at the curb.

“Make sure you ride the Cyclone!”

“Bring me back some cotton candy!”

It was the last time any of the other kids would look at us with envy.

***

Todd, the youngest at nine, always climbed in the car first. He liked to sit behind our mother who rarely drove. She didn’t like traffic and making left turns made her nervous. Tammy was thirteen and liked to sit in the middle. This was before people took wearing seatbelts seriously, and she’d spend the whole ride leaning forward, intently watching my father as he drove. Back then she liked to boast to anyone that would listen – and a few that wouldn’t – that she could drive if she had to.

“Daddy could have a heart attack at any moment and I’d know what to do. I could take over and drive us to the hospital.”

“What about Mom? Why couldn’t she drive?” Todd’s motives for asking were equal parts loyalty to our mother and the desire to shut Tammy up.

“She’d be too busy freaking out. Her husband just had a heart attack!”

“She wouldn’t freak out and you can’t drive.”

“Shut up!”

“Enough.” One word from my father and the bickering stopped. “You can both relax. I don’t plan on having a heart attack any time soon. Isn’t that right, Princess?” My father turned his head and waited for my confirmation.

I’d been listening to the argument from my usual spot; directly behind the driver’s seat with my arms wrapped around the headrest and my hands resting upon my father’s chest. His heartbeat felt steady and strong and it brought me comfort.

“That’s right. Daddy’s not going anywhere.”

Looking back now, it was odd that our mother remained quiet during the whole exchange. She was usually the first to put a stop to our arguments. She said yelling was bad for her nerves. But that time, she said nothing. Her blue eyes were hidden behind dark sunglasses, but even if I could see them it would be impossible to tell what she was thinking. Her eyes never betrayed her feelings. After my prediction she simply turned her head and looked out the window. I wonder if it’s because she knew then that I was wrong.

***

That summer, Tammy was finally tall enough to ride the Cyclone. Our father was delighted to have company, having ridden the ride alone every year prior. Mother, Todd and I avoided roller coasters. The bumper cars were more our speed and that’s what we did while they risked life and limb.

Todd wasn’t big enough to handle his own car so he rode shotgun with my mother who seemed to make up for the fact that she rarely drove real cars by slamming into anything she could with reckless abandon. She howled with glee and her dark ponytail bounced wildly every time her car made contact with another. When she laughed, she threw her head back and looked like a Jackie O. Pez dispenser. Instead of candy, she released laughter like music notes that made me want to dance. I remember wishing that my father were there to see her like that; joyful, loud, and beautiful.

***

We’d exhausted ourselves on rides and carnival games and stuffed ourselves with salty hot dogs, crinkle fries doused in ketchup, and sweet lemonade. The rest of our day would be spent on the beach where we’d pick seashells, build lopsided sand castles, and race along the shore.

“How ‘bout a tickle, Pickle?”

Tammy shot our father a look that said she’d rather have lemon juice squirted on paper cuts. He wasn’t fooled. None of us were. Tammy pretended that she was too old to be called Pickle and definitely too grown up for tickles, but that didn’t stop her from giggling like mad when our father ignored her protests.

He had a nickname for each of us. Tammy’s newborn hospital photo showed a pink baby face all scrunched up like she’d just bitten into something sour. Todd was Chief because that’s what Grandpa had called our father when he was a boy. And according to my parents, from the moment I could walk, I was drawn to any and everything girly; the shinier, frillier, lacier, the better.

“Your turn, Princess.”

I knew the rules and took off down the beach. He knew them too and gave chase.

“No, Daddy, no!”

I was easy to catch because I didn’t really want to get away. We lived for the attention and love of our father’s fingertips tickling our ribs and armpits. I rolled in the sand, my hands making a half-hearted attempt to swat away his.

“Charles, come on! I’ll have to wash her hair now.”

The tickling stopped and we both turned towards my mother’s voice. She sat on a blanket, a few feet away, helping Todd separate the bottle caps, gum wrappers, and other trash from his bag of seashells. We’d gone picking a half hour before, and my mother knew from experience that Todd couldn’t be trusted to fill his bag with shells only. One summer, he brought home a dead crab.

Gone was the carefree woman that rode the bumper cars three times in a row. In her place was our mother. My father sighed and helped me up. We walked back to the spot by the rocks where we set up our blanket and umbrella.

“Come on, Chief, let’s get some taffy.”

I watched my father and brother walk away holding hands. It wasn’t until many years later that I realized he’d gone out of his way to spend time alone with each of us that day.

“Want me to paint your toenails?” Tammy had just finished her own and turned to me. Our mother had rolled onto her stomach and opened a Jackie Collins novel.

“Sure.”

I slipped off the gold slippers Tammy called ugly, but I loved because they were princess-like, and sat them on the nearby rocks.

***

“Carry me to the car?”

“Sure thing, Princess.”

We were all packed up and ready to go. The sun was setting and a chill was drifting off the ocean.

“She’s big enough to walk,” Tammy said.

“I don’t want to mess up my polish.”

“It’s dry by now, doofus.”

“Still.”

“Better safe than sorry,” my father winked as he swept me into his arms. “Where are your shoes, Princess?”

“In the bag.”

The lie left my lips easily. I hadn’t planned on lying, yet there it was. By the time we hit the Belt Parkway, I’d already come up with a defense. I’d claimed that I thought the slippers were in the bag. My mother would be furious. She’d yell about being responsible and the fact that money didn’t grow on trees. My father would tell her it wasn’t a big deal, and that if it made her feel better, we’d go back and get them the next day. Since we’d already made the trip, why not stay for another go on the bumper cars, another ride on the Cyclone, and another day on the beach?

Of course, it didn’t work out that way.

“She said the shoes were in the bag, Elaine.”

“You’re the adult, Charles. You should have checked. Do you know how much those shoes cost? Of course you don’t. You don’t pay attention to anything that goes on around here.”

Tammy crossed the room that we shared and turned up the radio. It didn’t drown out the yelling. Todd entered without knocking and crawled onto my bed. He rocked back and forth as he often did when they fought.

“Why’d you leave your stupid shoes?”

They were both looking at me for an explanation, but I didn’t have one. The plan that sounded downright brilliant an hour ago now seemed stupid. All I could do was shrug.

Our father moved out a week later and for years I blamed myself. I think Tammy and Todd did as well. We were too young to realize that a move like that took time and planning. We were too young to understand that one day of tickles in the sand wasn’t enough to keep a family together.