Top
The
Sabbath Meal
I
Am Learning
The
Ice Cream Cone
The
Girdle, a Woman’s Best Friend
My
Own True Voice
Untitled
The
Ice Cream Cone
It
was late afternoon, about 4 or 5 o’clock, and the sun fell slantingly
across the girl’s face as she ambled slowly home, kickball tucked
under one arm, slowly licking a double vanilla ice cream cone
from the store near the school. She liked to stay late and play
kickball after school, and sometimes she would treat herself to
an ice cream cone on the way home. Chocolate was certainly more
interesting, deeper, more complex; but there was something about
the cool whiteness of the vanilla against her tongue that she
had always favored.
This
year she had been chosen captain of the sixth grade kickball team—the
first girl ever to have been chosen. Even though a few of the
boys in class were as tall as she was, she could still run faster
than any of them. When she ran, she just ran, she didn’t think
about her breasts bouncing, or whether sweat was running down
her back; she just ran to beat the footsteps that had never managed
to catch her.
She
was the only one in her class to have breasts and hips and to
have started her period. Most of the time she didn’t think about
those things, except sometimes boys would look at her in a certain
way that was exciting, that made her run more slowly. At home,
her parents said she needed to lose weight, and had taken her
to the doctor to get a diet. That was last year, when she was
10. Every Sunday after breakfast, Dad would weigh her. She dreaded
Sunday mornings, because she never seemed to lose weight, and
the look of disappointment on her parents’ faces was difficult
to bear. Sometimes on Saturday night, she would sneak into the
bathroom and play around with the scales until they would weigh
a pound or two lighter. Then her parents were pleased and she
was free for another week.
A
few blocks from home, the girl slowed her steps slightly, the
ice cream cone half gone. Her thoughts were on dinner and reading
in her room later. The sound of a car slowing down made her turn
around, and she saw her mother in the family car, slowing down
to offer her a ride. The girl saw her mother’s expression change
when she saw the ice cream cone, and the car sped up and drove
off, leaving the girl standing on the sidewalk. All thoughts of
cool vanilla vanished. All thoughts of running like the wind disappeared
as the girl threw the rest of the ice cream cone into the bushes
and trudged the rest of the way home.
•
Laurie, 50
•