Finding Joy

Chapter 5

Now, I don’t want you to get the idea that my life is just one endless suck-fest of green donkey d***s. I had all kinds of happy times. I had grandparents and cousins I got to visit every summer, a field nearby my house for awesome fort building, tons of books and, for a couple of years, a best friend who stood by my side. Until…

Well, we won’t talk about that right now.

From fifth grade on, Cheryl Silva and I were like two eggs in a nest; we both loved Donny Osmond, Tiger Beat magazine, and rainbow sherbet. Of course, I liked a cherry on top, which Cheryl thought was overkill, ruining the perfect blend of pastel colors.

Tiger Beat ,perfect blend of pastel colorsCheryl talked like that a lot, acting like an expert on art because her mother sometimes took her to the park to paint. But it never bugged me, I liked learning from her.

She was the kind of friend who would tell you when you had chocolate pudding on your face. The kind that finishes your sentences. The kind that makes you giggle until your sides hurt.

And when she listened, she was the kind of friend that looked in your eyes and got you.

Not that I told her everything. I mean, I’d hint at some of the bad stuff but couldn’t say it out loud. That’d make it too real.

it itSo instead, I told her old stories of when I was little. Like one day in sixth grade we were in her room, listening to Only a Moment Ago on The Partridge Family Album when I got to thinking.

Only a Moment AgoThe Partridge Family Album“You know, Cher, only a moment ago we were little kids.”

“Yeah, fun times, huh?”

“I don’t know. I hated grownups always saying children should be seen but not heard. They told us to sit quietly, hands folded in our laps, while they talked about important things like, like...”

“The electric bill?”

“Exactly. Or if they should buy a new vacuum cleaner or not.”

“And,” Cheryl giggled, “the perfect way to swish the toilet.” She held up a pretend toilet brush. “Sani Clean is the best potty scrubber in the world. Your bowl will sparkle with this amazing brush!”

Chuckling, I nodded. “Adults are boring. I mean, can an adult bike with no hands, steering by sheer will like you do?”

“Or do about a million cartwheels and round-offs on the front lawn?” Cheryl added.

“They sure can’t shimmy up a tree in eighteen seconds flat.”

“You could before I ever met you.”

You should have seen me. I thought I was Tarzan, bare-chested, wearing cut-offs like a loin cloth.

“You still think you are,” Cheryl teased.

I made fists and pounded my chest like a gorilla. “Barefoot, I’d dare anyone to go as high as I could.”

“Climbing higher than me. That’s for sure.”

“One day Kyle tried to follow, but I climbed higher, teasing him. Come on, Ba-by. Can’t you even climb a few feet?”

Come on, Ba-by. Can’t you even climb a few feet?”“I bet your mom didn’t like that.”

“She was in the house. But I do have to give my little brother props. He stuck his tongue in his cheek and reached for the next branch. But it was too thin and bent.”

“Little kids are dumb. Everybody knows you have to have a branch as big as your arm or it’ll break.”

“That’s what I said – ‘Pick a thicker one, stupid head’ – before I grabbed the next branch. Now I was really high, up where the tree gets skinny and you can see all over the neighborhood.”

“Next to that weird singing lady’s back yard where she practices opera all the time?”

“Yeah, while my parents roll their eyes. Even a few houses over into Cathy’s yard, where they have a wooden hot tub that Mom says people go in nude. Never did see any naked people, though.”

“You would look.”

“Whatever. From up there, I could see as far as the golf course next to our neighborhood. It looked like a big green ocean.”

“And what did my friend with the overactive imagination become then?” Cheryl asked. God, she knew me.

“I was a sailor battling waves in a storm, of course.”

“I can just hear you shouting, ‘Ahoy matey!’” she said, grinning. “Sounds fun.”

“It was until stupid Kyle called up saying he couldn’t reach. ‘Stop being a little baby’, I said. ‘Sure, you can. Stretch!’”

“Encouragement. Good.”

“I don’t know why I was helping him. All I ever hear is how amazing he is. How perfectly clean his room is. Or how great his kindergarten report card was next to mine. How he never spilled his milk during dinner. ‘Why don’t you act more like your brother, Joy?’”

“Can relate. Why did you?”

“Yeah well, he is kind of adorable, when he isn’t being so annoyingly perfect. But don’t tell him I said so.”

“Never.” She jerked her head toward her baby sister’s room. “Little brothers or sisters, should never know when you think they’re cute.”

sisters,“Totally. They’d use it against you.”

“Forever,” Cheryl agreed.

“He tried, chanting to stretch over and over again. I watched, cheering him on.”

“I’m guessing this doesn’t have a happy ending.”

“He’d forgotten to leave his toes on a lower branch and reached too far for his stubby little arms. I tried shouting, ‘No, not that way, there’s no…’ But I was too late. He tumbled down and started bawling his head off.”

“Did you get in trouble?”

“Mom appeared immediately and scooped him into her arms. ‘Joy Marie Chapel, what’s wrong with you?’ she yelled, rushing my crying brother into the house.” I sighed. “Didn’t follow.”

‘“You were better off in the tree.”

“Yep. Where I wouldn’t be seen or heard.”

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