Playmates
by Jean Leigh
Ruthie sat on the front porch waiting for the children to appear. Sometimes she just sat
on the steps and watched; but sometimes she started walking over to them, to try and join
in. They would point at her and giggle. It didn’t matter--she just wanted them to play
with her. They always ran away, though.
She would go back and sit down and wait for them, and they always came back.
She couldn’t see the sense of their games but it looked like they were having fun.
“Maybe if I bring them something to eat,” she thought one evening after supper.
“Cookies--”
Her mother had just baked some that morning: oatmeal-raisin, Ruthie's favorite. She went
into the house and took four cookies from the cookie-jar without asking, wrapped them in a napkin,
and went back outside to sit and wait.
The four children came back after a while and instead of going over to them, she held
out the cookies still wrapped in the napkin. One of them looked over and saw her and
stopped the game to whisper with the others. They all looked now. They just stood there
looking.
She didn’t know what to do, but didn’t want to move; they might run away again.
One of the children started to come over, but another pulled him back. They whispered
some more, then they all beckoned to her.
She was so happy! Maybe they would let her play. She got up and started toward
them, but as she got closer to them they ran from her. She stopped and was about to turn
around and go back to the porch when one of them beckoned again. They would stop and
beckon to her every few steps and she kept following them.
She couldn’t play long; it was beginning to get dark. She wondered where they were
going and hoped it wasn’t much farther. She remembered the cookies and when one of
them turned around again to see if she was following, she held out the little bundle and
smiled.
The child didn’t smile back, but kept ahead of her and beckoned again for her to keep up
with them. She was getting tired; they were a long way from her house and she didn’t
even know where she was anymore.
She stopped and just stood there and the children looked around and they started
looking cross and then they stood real close together in a bunch and seemed to be talking
softly to each other. Suddenly one started running toward her and she began to walk
backwards, away from the child. She didn’t want to play anymore; she just wanted to go
back home. She turned to run away and didn’t know which way to run. She dropped the
little bundle of cookies and started running back the way she thought they had come.
She could hear all of them running now; their feet sounded kind of swishy in the grass
and the sound was getting closer. They didn’t say a word, just kept coming after her.
Now she was crying and she was getting out of breath. She kept hearing the swishing
feet and ran as fast as she could, but the swishing kept up with her.
She was crying loudly now, her breath was wet and salty in her throat and the tears were
coming so fast she couldn’t see where she was going. She started calling “Momma!” and
the swishing was right in her ear and she stumbled and fell and someone was saying softly,
“I’m right here”, and she was crying so hard she was shaking, then she woke
up...
She was on the front porch, and Momma was leaning over her.
“You fell asleep out here--let’s go in and get ready for bed.”
Then she remembered the cookies she’d dropped. “Momma I lost your napkin,” she
said.
Momma just looked at her. “What are you talking about?”
“The cookies--I wrapped some in the napkin to give to the children.”
Momma laughed. "Well, I hope they enjoy them,” she said and shook her head a little.
“Next time you want to sit out on the porch, I’m sitting out here with you.
Children--cookies--what an imagination!”
Momma picked her up and carried her into the house and instead of putting her in her
little wheelchair just inside the door, she carried her on into the bedroom to get her
ready for bed.
Next day Poppa found the napkin and he brought it in the house at lunchtime. There
was a muddy footprint on it and the cookies were still in it, all broken and crawling with
ants.
“How did this get into the bean field, I wonder? Strange looking footprint--wonder
what kind of critter made it?”
Momma looked at it, then turned around real slow to look at her...
Ruthie said, "Can I go sit on the porch, Momma? Maybe the children will come back.
I'll just watch--I won't go with them this time, I promise."
Momma didn't say anything. She went into Ruthie's bedroom and came back carrying
one of Ruthie's brown lace-up shoes. She held it out to Poppa. Her voice sounded funny
when she said,
"There are seed heads caught in the laces, Wes."
Poppa looked at Ruthie and she wondered if he was mad at her. He just said,
"I'll take you out to the porch, Ruthie. Your momma and me are just going to have
another cup of coffee."
Ruthie knew they were cross with her, though. She shouldn't have gone with the
children, but sometimes her legs would do what she wanted...
Art: "Christina's World" by Andrew Wyeth; Museum of Modern Art, New York.
Scan by Mark Harden
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