Benjamin Ludwig - The Original Ginny Moon

Patrice is a therapist. An attachment therapist. I haven’t seen her since the adoption in June. I lived with my Forever Parents at the Blue House a whole year before that. That was when I started going to my new school too.

Which reminds me again that Gloria is on her way right now. I don’t know how long it will take her to get here. I don’t know if she’ll get here before I go to see Patrice. And that’s important because I need to know when things are going to happen so I can count and check my watch and make sure everything works the way it’s supposed to.

I pick hard at my fingers.

“When will I see Patrice?” I ask.

“We’ll call her on the phone today and see when she’s available,” says my Forever Mom. “Probably early this next week, if she has some time in her schedule. I bet she’ll find an opening, for you.”

5

2:45 IN THE AFTERNOON, THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 9TH

Gloria didn’t come to school today. I waited and waited and then my watch and all the clocks in all the rooms said 2:15 and we had the afternoon announcements. Then the bell rang and I went outside with all the other kids to get on the bus.

So I am confused.

But right now I’m confused about something more pressing. Patrice says that more pressing means something more important than something else. The more pressing thing is that someone is angry here at the Blue House. I have to figure out who it is.

That’s why I’m standing here on the front step of the screen porch. I’m still wearing my backpack and carrying my flute. I see that our mailbox is knocked over and there are tire tracks on the ground which means someone peeled out. Peeling out is what people do when they’re in a car and they’re really mad. I stand there wondering who made the marks and when I look up I see my Forever Dad’s car in the driveway next to my Forever Mom’s. Usually he’s at work. He’s the guidance counselor at the high school.

With one finger I straighten my glasses. I look at the tire tracks again. In my brain I remember that at 2:44 right before the bus stopped in front of the Blue House I saw two police cars coming the other way. They were driving slowly so I took a deep breath and held it until we were past.

I don’t like police officers. They all have the same head.

Then I got off the bus and saw the mailbox and the tire tracks.

I open the door to the screen porch. Right away I smell cigarette smoke. No one at the Blue House smokes. The smell makes me think of Gloria’s apartment.

I go inside. My Forever Mom is standing in front of the kitchen sink holding a glass of water in one hand and holding her belly in the other. Her hair looks like she didn’t brush it and there are dark, dark lines under her eyes. Without looking she says, “Hi, Ginny. Come put your things down. We need to talk with you in the living room.” Her voice is quiet.

I put my backpack and flute case in my room and come back out.

“Hello, Forever Girl,” my Forever Dad says. He is standing near the window. “Did anything interesting happen at school today?”

“No,” I say, “but I would like to know which one of you is angry.”

They look at each other.

“Angry?” says my Forever Dad.

I nod my head yes.

“Why would one of us be angry?”

“Because there are tire tracks on the front lawn. Which one of you peeled out?”

“Wait,” he says. “You think that because there are tire tracks on the front lawn, one of us is angry?”

I nod my head yes again.

My Forever Mom makes a little smile and then a long breathing sound. “Well, I guess this is going to be easier than we thought,” she says. “Ginny, neither one of us made those tire tracks.”

I am confused so I stand there thinking.

“Let’s get back to the first question first,” says my Forever Dad. “Did anything interesting happen at school?”

“No,” I say again.

“Did you make a phone call?”

“No.”

“Did anyone come to visit you?”

“No.”

“Did anyone ask for your address?”

“Do you mean today?”

My Forever Dad looks at my Forever Mom quick and then looks back at me. “Yes. Of course we mean today.”

“Then no.”

“Then no?” says my Forever Dad. “What about yesterday, then? Did anyone ask for your address yesterday?”

But that was two questions in a row and I’m not sure which one to answer. Plus it’s a rule that I can answer only one question at a time. Because I have only one mouth and I don’t know which question is more pressing. So I shake my head and keep my mouth shut tight, tight, tight. Just in case.

My Forever Mom looks at my Forever Dad. She puts her hand on her chin. “Well, then, how the hell did she track us down?” she says.

So I say, “How the hell did who track us down?”

“The person who peeled out on the front lawn,” my Forever Dad says. “But don’t worry, she’s gone. The police made her leave.”

“So you’re not still angry at me about the plastic electronic baby doll?”

He looks at me in a funny way again. “Angry isn’t the right word,” my Forever Dad says. “We’re concerned, is all.”

I wonder if they are lying. Gloria lies all the time. Then I start wondering if maybe they found out that Gloria is on her way because angry is what everyone would be if they knew. I pick and pick at my fingers and close my eyes and say, “Will someone please, please, please tell me which one of you is angry?” because you have to be careful around angry people. They get mad and hit.

Then my Forever Mom says, “Ginny, we already told you. No one here is angry. You’re safe. We can talk about the tire tracks some other time. What’s with the frowning face? Now, go wash up and get dressed. You’re going to the apple cider farm next week, and you’ve got a birthday coming up! And you’re going to see Patrice on Wednesday! We already talked with her and made the appointment. Maybe you should mark it on your calendar.”

But that wasn’t a question so I don’t say anything. Plus what she said about the apple cider farm wasn’t true. My class is going there on September 21st, not next week. And now I can’t remember what I was worried about but when I look up I see my Forever Parents looking at me and smiling. I smile back.

“Ginny, would you like a hug?” my Forever Mom says.

I would so I let her give me one. She has to lean forward because her belly is so big.

“Now go change your clothes,” she says.

I go into my room and change into my play clothes. I look out the window at the yard and see the tire tracks again.

And I remember.

It’s hard for me to figure things out sometimes. I get distracted and forget to look at what I’m supposed to look at. Or I go so deep in my brain that I forget what I’m supposed to know. But I know now that no one here at the Blue House is angry. No one yelled and no one hit me. Someone else made the tire tracks but she’s gone now so I can get ready for Gloria. When she comes to school I’ll run out to the Green Car to see if my Baby Doll is with her. If it isn’t then I’m going to have to get in the car and go back to the apartment. Even though I don’t want to. Even though I know what will happen to me. Because I have to see if my Baby Doll is still in the suitcase. If it is and I’m not too late then I need to take it out and take excellent care of it. I can tell that Gloria hasn’t changed a bit. I remember all the drugs and cats and the strange men at night. I remember what she used to do to me when I made too much noise. But the worst part is Donald. He’s going to be really, really mad when he finds out what I did. He’s going to make me dead. Gloria said so.

And I believe her even though she’s the one who lies.