Buffy Andrews - The Moment Keeper

“All yours,” Tom says.

Olivia drops her backpack and climbs onto the seat and starts to pedal.

“Wait,” Tom yells. “You never ever get on a bike without this.”

He holds up a pink sparkly helmet and puts it on Olivia, adjusting the straps to make sure it fits tightly.

“Promise me you’ll always wear a helmet,” Tom says. “I just had a patient the other day who was hurt because he didn’t wear a helmet.”

Olivia knows from the tone of her daddy’s voice that he is serious and means what he says. She doesn’t often hear that tone, but when she does she knows she must pay attention.

“I promise,” says Olivia, pedaling in a circle around the patio.

“Emma rides without wheels,” Olivia says.

“We’ll take the training wheels off when you think you’re ready to ride without them,” Tom explains.

Olivia follows Tom to the front of the house and he walks while she rides on the sidewalk down to the stop sign and back. After a few times down and back, Olivia gets brave and wants to go around the block. So, Tom takes her around the block, breaking a sweat as he runs to keep up with her.

I’ll never forget my first bike. Someone had put it out for trash pickup and Grandma and I saw it on our way home from the grocery outlet.

Grandma pulled over to the curb next to the Hulk bike.

“What do you think, Sarah? Some new paint and a new seat and we’ll have this bike looking as good as that bike you saw in the store.”

“Are we allowed?”

“Sure we can take it,” Grandma said. “These folks don’t care. They want to get rid of it. Doesn’t matter to them how that happens, whether it’s the garbage men or us.”

Grandma popped the trunk on the old Chevy and lifted the bike. I saw a woman watching from the window as Grandma eased the bike into the trunk then slammed it shut.

By the end of the week, Grandma had that bike looking better than any store-bought one. She painted it pink and added a pink and silver sparkly seat, a water-bottle holder and a bell. She even found a pink plastic basket with flowers to put on the front so I could haul stuff.

“Oh, Grandma,” I said. “It’s the best bike ever.”

When I rode down the sidewalk, I felt like a peacock presenting his feathers. Kids playing in yards pointed as I rode by and I rang my bell. I was happy. I had a new bike. And it was better than anyone else’s bike. I was certain of that.

I watch Olivia sleep. She looks so peaceful in her pink canopy bed. She always sleeps with her right hand over her heart and the left one down across her belly button or off to the side. I was a Pledge-of-Allegiance-sleeper, too. That’s what Grandma called it.

Olivia is restless tonight. She’s having a bad dream. She’s dreaming that she’s riding her bicycle and a stranger approaches her in a van. She tries to ride away from him but no matter how hard she pedals, the bike doesn’t move. I feel her anxiety and try to will her out of the dream. Sometimes, if I think happy thoughts and direct them toward her, I’m able to disrupt the nightmare. But tonight is a particularly bad one. She and her dad role-played different “bad person scenarios” earlier in the evening and this was one of them. Olivia screams and within seconds Elizabeth and Tom fly into her bedroom.

Tom flips on the light switch. Elizabeth leaps on the bed and wakes Olivia. “It’s just a dream, sweetie. Just a dream.”

Elizabeth holds Olivia in her arms and rocks her gently back and forth. Tom rubs her back.

“Shh. It’s OK. Daddy and I are here.”

“That’s right, pumpkin. It’s just a dream,” Tom says.

They finally get Olivia calmed down and tucked in once more. I continue to record the moments – never stopping, never sleeping.

I remember when I was about Olivia’s age, eight, I had this particularly bad dream. I thought Matt was going to take me away from Grandma and make me live with him. It was after Grandma kicked him out of the house. Occasionally, she would invite him to dinner and hope that he wasn’t drunk. She never stopped reaching out, even though Matt pummeled her outstretched hands time and time again.

This one Sunday, she made her pot roast, which Matt loved, and his favorite dessert, chocolate cake with peanut butter icing. We rushed home from church so Grandma could make her homemade blueberry biscuits. He loved those, too.

Matt was late. Really late. In fact, he was so late that Grandma and I ate dinner and cleaned up. When he did show up, it was late afternoon.

I was playing with my Barbie dolls in my bedroom. Grandma had made me a Barbie house out of a bunch of old cardboard boxes she fastened together. It wasn’t as fancy as the Barbie penthouse complete with an elevator that Tracey Carmichael had, but I liked it better because Grandma had made it. She even made Barbie clothes out of the same material she used to make my clothes so we could match.

I heard Matt first. It sounded as if someone fell against the apartment door.

“Grandma,” I yelled. “Did you hear that?”

I found Grandma snoring on her favorite chair with the Sunday paper on her lap. I shook her arm to wake her.

“Someone’s at the door.”

Grandma put the paper on the coffee table. By the time she reached the door, Matt was inside, swaying and trying to remain on his feet.

“Matt,” Grandma said. “I told you never to come here like this.”

Matt looked at me, clutching my Barbie to my heart. “What ya lookin’ at, kid?”

I looked down at the floor.

His speech was slurred. “Maybe you should come live with me?”

“Sarah,” Grandma said. “Go to your room. I’ll take care of this. It’s not good to see your dad like this.”

“He’s not my dad,” I yelled, and ran to my room, slamming my door and locking it. I could hear Grandma’s muffled voice. It sounded as if she was in the kitchen. Probably making Matt coffee. That was usually what she did. Made him coffee and got him sober enough to ride his Harley home.

Matt left a couple of hours later. I came out of my bedroom and heard Grandma crying. I found her in the kitchen doing the dishes.

I hugged her waist and she bent over to brush the curls away from my face.

“I love you, Grandma,” I said.

“I love you, too, Sarah. I wish you had a better dad.”

“I don’t want a dad. I want you.”

“And you’ll always have me, Sarah.”

“And you won’t let anyone take me?”

“Never.”

That night, I dreamt that Matt kidnapped me while Grandma slept. I don’t think I’ve ever screamed louder. Grandma let me sleep with her. In fact, it was weeks before I slept in my bed. It was the worst nightmare ever and I kept having it over and over until Matt died. I didn’t have it anymore after that.

Olivia sits on the couch next to her dad. Tom puts his arm around her, pulls her in close and kisses the top of her head.

“Do you like helping people, Daddy?” Olivia asks.

“Yep.”

“Then why are you sad?”

“Today was a tough day.”

“Why?”

“You know how when you fall and hurt yourself?”

“Like the time I fell out of Emma’s tree house and broke my arm?”

“Yeah, like that. A doctor fixed your broken arm, right?”

Olivia nods.

“But doctors can’t fix everything. Sometimes a person can’t be fixed. They’re too broken.”

“Like my ball that got run over by the lawn mower?”

“Yeah. Like your ball. Sometimes there’s just too much damage and you can’t make something whole again.”

I wondered why Tom was so sad. It wasn’t like him to be this sad. In fact, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him this upset about something that happened at work. He seemed to be hugging Olivia more than usual and I suspected that a child was involved.