Christmastime 1940 by Linda Mahkovec

Author:Linda Mahkovec [Mahkovec, Linda]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bublish, Inc.

Chapter 8

*

Even though a day had passed since the evening with Mr. Drooms, Lillian was still upset on Monday morning. She felt irritable as she rushed to get ready for work, compounded by the fact that she hadn’t slept well and as a result had woken up late. Her eyes required another layer of powder beneath them, which just added to her fatigued appearance. She saw that her blouse was frayed at the collar, so she quickly unbuttoned it and put on another one, keeping her eye on the time.

“Tommy!” she called out to the kitchen. “Are you and Gabriel eating your oatmeal?”

Then, just as she smoothed down her dress, she noticed a run in her stocking. She sat back down at her vanity in frustration and took out another stocking, quickly checking it for runs.

In an angrier tone she yelled out, “Thomas!” She hated it when he didn’t answer her. “We have to go soon! Are you boys ready?”

She pulled off her stocking and put on the new one, then quickly brushed her hair, and applied some lipstick. When she passed the boys’ room she saw that Gabriel had gone back to bed.

“Gabriel! Get up!” She pulled back the covers and roused him. “Come on. In the bathroom. Go wash up. We’re going to be late.”

Gabriel sat up in bed. “I’m tired!” He stumbled out and went into the bathroom.

Then Lillian saw that he had wet the bed again. “Oh, for heaven’s sake.” She stripped the bed, threw the sheets in the bathtub, and then went into the kitchen. There was Tommy, slouched at the kitchen table, spooning around his oatmeal with no apparent intention of eating it.

Lillian was ready to burst. “Can’t you hear me? I’ve told you a hundred times, you have to help with Gabriel in the morning. He was still in bed!”

“It’s not my fault if he went back to bed. I got him up.”

“You have to do better than that. You’re old enough to be more responsible.”

“I can’t help it if he doesn’t listen to me.” In an ear-piercing voice Tommy hollered, “Gabriel! Hurry up! We’re gonna be late!”

“Stop yelling! That serves no purpose.”

“You’re yelling!”

Lillian could see a full-blown argument starting if she didn’t hold her tongue. “Go help him get ready,” she said quietly.

There were just enough leftovers from yesterday’s dinner to make sandwiches for the boys’ lunch. She added bananas and cookies to their lunchboxes, and then quickly buttered two pieces of bread, wrapped them in wax paper, and put it in a bag for her lunch. She added an apple, thinking, that would have to do.

In a few minutes, both boys were slumped at the table. Gabriel stuck his spoon in the middle of the congealed oatmeal. “I hate oatmeal!” he said. “I want to eat at Mrs. Kuntzman’s. She makes good food.”

Lillian grabbed the bowls and put them in the sink, banging them loudly. “Get your coats.”

They all bumped into each other as they hurried to leave. Tommy took their coats off the hall tree and tossed Gabriel’s to him.

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