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it on my own merit. Even in junior high when I got a better
grade, there was always someone who would inevitably bring up,
'Oh, you know, she's the senator's daughter. Of course. Of
course.' I guess they figured the teacher wanted an administrative
spot in the school system. As if that ever mattered to Papa
anyway. As if his daughter's opinion would make a difference."

"Children can be cruel. You shouldn't have let that bother
you."

"Children nothing. Don't forget who's sitting downstairs."
"I know it's been hard on you, but it's not easy for him
either. He only wants what's best for you."
"I know. I know. And it's hard for him to show affection.
'But it made him a man.' Aunt Lizzie dragging poor little him
around by his ear when he didn't finish feeding her chickens
before breakfast."
"And you're just like her."

"Well, she's probably why he has trouble hearing sometimes."
"And why he has problems listening."
Mama's tiny voice finally took command of the silence.
"You were too busy and too excited to have noticed, but
during all your speaking contests in high school, he followed
you like a cat. He never wanted you to know because he thought
that it would make you nervous, trying to measure up to him.
That day you spoke in the legislative building for the state
competition, half the people there knew your father and had
worked with him for years. They just couldn't figure what he
was doing there. It didn't occur to them that he might have
a child young enough to be in the competition. And when they
announced you as the winner, he left. I remember you came
running up and you looked pretty perturbed that he wasn't there.
We finally found him out in the foyer, 'politicking' as you call
it."

"Yeah. Every time I turn around .. ."
"He was crying. He left the room because he was too proud
to have you see."

After a long time, the bed creaked. Then the floorboards.
The hall light sliced the room as the door opened.

"I hope you'll be more patient."

More than once I went to the woods with Papa to plant pine
trees. I liked to run up the mountains they dug out of the
ditch next to the field every spring. Papa would take such long
steps. I ducked the briers cause they always scratched me. But
they never hurt Papa and he never ducked. I had to run ahead
to choose that place that he would push that big red shovel into
the mud. I always held the little tree so straight when he
moved dirt back with his foot. I'd check on last year's trees
and see if the squirrels had chewed on the bottom branches. Once,
on the way back, I hopped on this one great big old tree stump.
I made a fine speech, telling all those little trees that when
they got big, they should vote for my Papa. He was real quiet
until we got near the bigger trees at the edge of the woods.
He joked about Mama scolding him for being late to dinner. I
had to run cause he was walking so fast through those big trees.
I'll bet he must have known the way since way back whenever.

Margaret Elizabeth Malkus

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