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The Ten Year Wait
At last it had arrived. Tomorrow would
be Charity’s tenth birthday and her patience would finally be rewarded. Every other
child over age six in their row house neighborhood had a bicycle. When
Charity’s brother Dameon turned ten, two years ago, only she understood the
tears of relief when he saw his first bike. No longer did he have to run beside
his friends when they went to the park or sit quietly as the other boys
exaggerated their back-alley feats. He quickly became the champion liar. The girls didn’t care about tricks. They
often spent their afternoons decorating their spokes, and trading stickers for
their frames. Jenny triumphed when she added tassels to her seat and
handlebars. Charity listened and watched, waiting for the time when her grand
ideas would outstrip even tassels. She
lay sweating in the June night. The cicadas were quiet now, and she opened her
window. The kitchen window was also open. “I
don’t know about this, Sheba,” she heard her father say. “You
don’t know girls, do you!” her mother scolded. “It’s like the one I got at her
age, an she’ll be the envy of the neighborhood.” Charity dozed fitfully, hoping that
banana seats had been fashionable 20 years ago. The sunrise had faded when the scent of
coffee cake assured Charity that it wouldn’t be much longer. She must go
downstairs last, so that the family could receive her with their birthday wishes. Dameon’s grin matched hers as she
descended. The coffee cake was her favorite, but she had barely tasted it when
Dameon presented her with huge, metallic handlebar tassels. Her father frowned.
“I
think it’s time!” her mother’s eyes sparkled. She went to the parlor and
returned with a box that was too small for a bike. The ten-year-old tore it
open, hoping it was a decoy. A red velvet and lace Sunday dress lay within. “I
sewed it myself,” Sheba said. Charity’s
father frowned. Sheba’s smile faded. Dameon slammed the alley door behind
himself. “Thank you.” Charity’s voice seemed to
echo in a long, dark tunnel. |
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