1950s SMALL TOWN LIFE: HIDE AND SEEK

Last night, we had all played hide and seek in the small rooms of our housemotel. Susan and I hid in the one closet in our parents' room, and Mother and Daddy looked for us, opening the front door that led from their bedroom into the dark, warm air and yelling softly for us as though they thought we would be hiding in the bushes out front.

First of all, I was too scared of snakes being out there to even consider hiding outside at night. Susan, for her part, didn't like to sweat, and it was so hot that hiding for more than sixty seconds would result in towelable sweat, something she would not possibly allow.

We were found pretty quickly, and there weren't many places to hide, so it looked like the game would be short. Then Daddy suggested that Jan was hiding somewhere, and we should try to find her. We looked in the tiny kitchen first, but the only place she could be was in the stove or the refrigerator, and we knew the admonitions against concealing ourselves in any appliances. The cabinets were too small, so we ruled them out.

No way would they let her go out the back door. Anyway, that was close to where there had been a known snake sighting, so danger in my mind lay just beyond the wooden door with the large glass pane in the upper half. I pulled back the thin white cotton curtain with its improbable fancy red bound border and peered outside. Nothing there but the wide circle of light made by the streetlight.

Next, we checked under our bed. Susan wouldn't crawl under there, but she suggested I do it. The bed hung low to the floor, but I scrunched under, moving slowly in inchworm motions until I was sure Jan could not be under there. I had dustballs hanging to my shorts but the linoleum felt smooth and cool, so I didn't really mind. I acted like I did though.

"Hey, why did I have to be the one to crawl under there?" I asked accusingly.

"Because you're more limber," she said quickly, with authority.

"Oh," I said, head down, searching for a retort that never came.

"Let's look for Jan some more. There can't be too many places a three year-old could hide."

"Do you think they stuck her in her "bed" and closed it up?" I emphasized the bed part, since we made a lot of comments about Jan sleeping in a drawer, even if it was oversized.

"My gosh, no. It'd kill her. She couldn't breathe. What's wrong with you? Don't you ever think in that head of yours?" She looked at me like I had uttered something unthinkable.

"Ok, well, we're runnin' out of places, and I don't really want to crawl under Mother and Daddy's bed. It's dusty under there and I feel like I'm gonna sneeze. And I'm afraid of bugs under there. I just thought about that."

"Ok, let's move on. We'll check the drawers in here in this chest just to be sure."

Now my question mode kicked in. She had just made me feel like an idiot for thinking Jan could be in one of the drawers, but now she was opening and closing each of the three on the west wall, and now the three on the east wall. I could see into the other bedroom by looking up at the large mirrors over the tops of the drawers.

My dad's grinning face was reflected in one of the mirrors, and when I looked across to the other, I could see the back of my mother's head, and she was sort of rocking back and forth. I heard a snort, and it seemed to accompany her rocking forward. I became suspicious.

"Can't find her?" my dad asked with fake concern.

"Well, not so far," Susan answered cooly, closing the last drawer.

"Now we have to look in your room," I said, bounding over to the single straightbacked green chair, jumping up on the cushions and looking over the back into the triangular space behind it. The dark corner where it sat concealed no one. I held onto its wooden arms, and gingerly hopped back down to the floor.

Reluctantly, I got down on the floor and slid under the bed without Susan telling me. I knew she wouldn't do it, so it was do it or risk losing the game. Jan most definitely wasn't there. Mother had some luggage poked under there, one large hardsided bag, and one medium size one.

"She's not under this table, either." Susan cried. "Then where is she?"
Daddy grinned and sat down on the edge of the bed. Mother was laughing, watching our increasingly frantic search.

"Did you send her to the Whites' house?" I demanded.

"No, no, no," they laughed.

"There isn't anywhere else," we cried.

"Sure. Sure there is. We live in a mansion. Lots more places to hide," Daddy said, tipping his head toward the tiny bathroom.
Susan's eyes widened.

I twisted my lips and squinted in confusion.

Susan pushed the door open.

"Well, I don't see her," she said.

"Look a little harder," Mother said kindly.

She walked inside, me bumping into her back trying to follow. Once we were both inside, she shut the door. A movement caught our eyes, and we looked up to our right. There, on a shelf, about four feet above the floor, sat Jan, knees folded up against her chest, arms wrapped around her legs, quietly waiting. When she saw the surprise on our faces, she began laughing, saying, "I hided from you, I hided from you."

"You did!" Susan laughed.

Mother and Daddy then crowded into the small bathroom, and Jan reached out her arms for Daddy, who took her down from the shelf.

"We tricked them, didn't we?" he said to her.

"We trick you, we trick you," she said, little blonde parrot girl.

"Yeah," I said, "but day after tomorrow we're going back to Purdon, and I can find you there. I know all the hiding places there." It wasn't true, but it made me feel better-- older, smarter.

We were leaving in a few days to return home and I felt a little melancholy leaving this summer place where I had met different types of people than I had ever known.

It didn't matter what type of change it was; I rarely liked change. Even change that meant returning to the familiar.

I wondered how Boy would be, if he would still want to play with me. I couldn't imagine how he would feel now that his brother had died, or what I should say to him. I figured I probably wouldn't say anything, just go on over and ask if we could play in the dirt in his side yard or something.

Dirt always made me feel better. Letting the fine dark grains sift through my fingers soothed me and put me in a better frame of mind. Mounding it into little mountains, destroying them, and making them again. Purposeful building and purposeless destruction, focused my mind on ....nothing really.

But the familiarity of it always helped if things were out of kilter in any way. Most times I just played for fun though, because so far, nothing much had ever happened to make me need to think too seriously about dirt or its higher calling.Installed