Carola Dibbell - The Only Ones

I never heard of that.

“Oh Ma, you are silly. You do not know anything.”

Well maybe that is true. But I will tell you what I did know. I broke my butt for that toy.

She just goes hopping down the ramp and we went home.

How to sit in chairs. I knew that. How to find my own way home.

Melanie said a magnet belt could help. It’s fall Conference, Ani’s third year at Mill Rock. By now the dock guard lets me through without checking my swipe. It’s not worth the trouble — Ani and me crash the system all the time. Ok, I will find some way to buy a magnet belt. I had heard of a hole in the City Line fence you could squeeze through and do hardy work on the other side. The rates are good. Wait on a line, they will hire you for a day. With the personal Dome setup there, they like a hardy to get on a pulley to deCon the outside. They don’t even ask for Proof you’re hardy, they’re just like, if you die, that’s your problem.

So now I had regular cleaning work in Nassau County, over the City Line. The deCon work dried up. Still this is pretty good. I just have to run all the way to the bus Stop when my work is done, in case this is the one time she got there first.

I also spent a lot of time keeping the Health Profile up-to-date. Sometimes I had to go all the way to South Brother Island. They really want Ani there to be sure she’s who I say she is, but I can talk my way out of it. Sometimes I spend most of a day getting this done and must rush to get back to the Stop in time. Catch my breath. Remember to say very good and all that.

I found a bubble trike I could use to get back and forth in Queens. I never got two-wheelers to work. I cannot bring the trike through the hole to Nassau County but it definitely saved time. I hide it in gar what are the chances">ribage at the City Line wall and hope it is still there when I’m done with my work.

One day I blew a tire and have to leave the trike and run to the Stop by foot in case she gets there first. I look back and see someone stealing the trike. I start running back to the trike. Then I smell the bus and run back to the bus. It is not the bus. I run back to the trike. The trike is gone. It starts to rain. The bus is one hour late. She is never coming home! She’s lost! The bus is lost! When it chugs up, she climbs off in the rain, hands me a book — a, you know, regular book, but the Special kind they give kids who read backward, with words that go both ways. She is proud she could read it and wants me to say how Special she is, like that is something I could never do.

I just opened the book and read, “MOM POP WOW. Very good.” I don’t even know why I did. I guess it’s just what a hard day I had, and I was very sorry.

Because she got very mad. “You do not know how to read!” She says I got one word wrong. “You said COW.”

I told her and I’m telling you, I did not say COW.

We just go home in the rain. But when we are inside and got dried off she will not read. She lost the self-esteem. She will not read at all until I say, oh, I do not know how to read. Then she goes, I will show you how. MOM POP WOW. Well how Special is that. She can read three words. I can read three words. But I am adult. I do not need the self-esteem. So, whatever.

And I will tell you this. It works.

It is her fourth year at Mill Rock school. She is reading forward! She is walking forward, at least that I saw. They tell me if she catches a break, she could do anything. She could be anything.

My dream is she would be a Tech but it’s ok if she is anything. Except me.

How’s she going to feel if she finds out she is?

All the kids are doing great. Don Park got in to a private Dome school, as Diversity, whatever that even is. Others could mainstream soon. Ani could too. She will pass. She will have regular Needs, the whole shebang.

She rides a bus four hours a day. She sits in a chair. She ties her shoe. She reads forward. I mean she is so proud.

Nine years, ten months old. Still alive. So was I.

Sometimes I was a little nervous though.

In two months, Ani will be ten years old. I’m pretty sure she has a different life than I did when Cissy Fardo died in the fire, when I was ten. We been through this before, right? Ani’s not me. Nobody’s Cissy Fardo.

Still, even Rauden was never totally sure how this is going to work.

ii

Ten candles. One extra for luck. Janet Delize made the cake.

The party is in her kitchen, with those green covers over everything. It’s one month after Ani’s real birthday so she could finish the school year, and it’s a very big deal. There are marsh-mallows and hats and as a special treat here comes Mariah Delize who put on a lot of weight. She gave Ani a Purse. Henry couldn’t come. He sent regular money. Man! Where did he find that?

Ok. We’re all around the table. Everyone sings Happy Birthday. Then Ani makes a wish and blows the candles out. I don’t know what she wished. But I know what I wished.

She will stay alive, be regular, and graduate. And one more thing.

I don’t die in a fire. in case she comes back.up g toward the

Everybody cheers.

“Well!” Janet says. “Our little girl is growing up.”

You can see how I was thinking on her tenth birthday. Will I die in a fire like Cissy Fardo? I was so busy thinking about that, it took a while for me to notice everyone else seems to be thinking something too. Janet Delize is giving Ani a look. That is never good.

It’s totally quiet. You could hear the generator hum. The windows are open — you could hear an Endangered somewhere in the sky.

Now Mariah Delize is doing it. She and Janet look at me, then Ani, then me. Then everyone’s doing it.

Except us. Except Ani and me. Sitting at Janet’s table side by side.

Ani is looking at me like, what is this? I shake my head like, whatever. It doesn’t mean anything!

But personally, I was pretty sure it does.

It’s like the looks they used to give when Ani and the others were viables in the tank. Ani/me. Ani/me. In the same room, side by side. And then it hits me what they’re thinking.

Ani is growing up. She’s ten years old. I’m thirty. She’s going to change a lot. Me not so much.

I think they could be thinking, how long could we pass?

After a while, Janet says, “Well! Who’s ready for cake?” Everyone says they are. Pretty soon everyone’s talking again.

Except me. Ani and me.

We generally don’t say much anyhow at the Farm. Ani even less than me. She just jiggles her feet. I mean the whole table jiggles.

Janet goes, “You may be excused, Ani.” Ani is looking at me like, for what? I’m just moving my eyes, go to the TV.

Ani leaves the kitchen and turns on the TV in the Den. The rest of us clean up.

I still can’t leave Ani alone so much at the Farm, Mill Rock is pretty much the only place she doesn’t get nervous if I am out of sight, so while we are cleaning up in Janet’s kitchen, I have to check is Ani ok watching TV in the Den. She is ok but got frosting on her birthday dress so I took her to the toilet to clean the dress and while we’re in there I check how we look in the mirror, could we still pass? We definitely could. She is much smaller and smoother. Even the hair is different.

So, I’m like it’s going to be ok, but this birthday, man! Things just keep happening. A little later I am on the way down Janet’s hall to check again is Ani still ok with the TV when Mariah Delize comes behind me in the hall and whispers, when did I start to ministrate.

So I’m like, oh, I don’t know. Could you excuse me a minute? I want to see is Ani still ok. She is.

But on my way back down the hall, Mariah Delize stops me and whispers, the age you start to ministrate, Ani could start to ministrate.