“I know your name is Penelope.I think I will call you Penny, though.Why don’t you throw a penny in this band’s hat and make a wish?”
“But it is not a wishing well!”I yelled.
“You are wrong.This hat holds all of these men’s dreams, and it can also hold yours.”He pushed me toward the hat, and I threw the penny in, wishing my mom could be happy again and her new relationship would work out.
James threw in a couple of bills as well.
“What did you wish for, James?”I asked him with my curious sponge of a brain.
“I wished that I could be someone to you and your mom.I wished I could be a great father like my father was to me.”
After that, things did change.James rented us a baby blue-painted house twenty miles outside of the city.He worked at the lumber mill and provided for us.My mom learned how to cut hair and did it on the side.Every chance we got, James and I would listen to music together.Things in the kitchen also changed.We could buy anything from the grocery store.My momma made roasts, chicken, soup, salads, and more.We were far from being rich, yet we felt like we had won the lottery.
I knew James wanted a family, to protect, love, and cherish.Except he couldn’t have any children of his own because he was sterile.At times, I speculated if my sister and I were enough.In July 1968, James and I were listening to music in the living room while my mom was out of the house shopping.We were scooting around on the hardwood floors in our socks.All of a sudden, he moved the needle off the spinning record.The room fell silent, and my body went slack.
“Penny, I need to ask you something,” he stated with his hands on his hips.
“Okay, but after, can we turn the music back on?”
“Certainly.I wondered how you would feel if I asked your mother to marry me.If she says yes, I would be your stepdad.”
“If you will be my stepdad, then you can marry my mom,” I said as I placed the needle back on the track, scooting my feet along the cracks in the wood.
My momma and James got married in the fall.It was an intimate wedding.I got to be the flower girl.I walked down the aisle and threw marigolds I picked from our freshly made garden.That day was the first day I felt I could finally let my guard down.James and my momma were scared that he would be drafted, but I didn’t worry because James was there to stay.I knew my wish would come true.Every time The Selective Service System conducted a lottery, my mom would sit around the television set anticipating his birthday to be called, but it never was.
James was kind and helped anyone who needed it, except for helping himself.Occasionally, he got into what my mom called “funks.”And no, I do not mean the type of music that makes you groove.When James was in a funk, he did not talk to me and spent more time at work.
Things got worse when James’s father passed away.I was ten years old, and death seemed miles away.At the time, I did not understand the permanence of death and how it could leak into your life until it consumed you.
On his worst days, James would hide in his bedroom and tell Momma, “Go away.I need to be left alone.”If she didn’t let him be, he would get angrier and yell, “I saidgo away!”
She would sheepishly surrender into our spare bedroom, and he would sink into his pillow, spending his days in a haze.I didn’t blame James for his sadness, nor did I blame my grandma’s reaction to her husband's death.Everyone was hurting in their own way, and I lived on, like kids do.
As I got older, I became more independent.My momma wanted me to do things by myself.Teenagers should spend more time with their friends than their parents, so I did what I could to be normal.I focused on having sleepovers, spending time on my hobbies, making friends, and doing well in school.The time I spent with James got shorter; when we came together, it was for music or celebrations.So that’s why I couldn’t wait for the Peach Play Games.The competition made it so we would finally be back together for a shared goal.
Chapter Seven
