Prince by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview
Download the book in PDF, ePub, Kindle for a complete version.
Chapter 2
Ten year old Polly Thatcher woke to the sharp, consistent clanging of her antique Art Nouveau alarm clock. It was her favorite possession when it wasn’t calling demanding attention to itself, like now, first thing in the morning. Its oval, ivory face was surrounded by painted bronze figures of a woman reclining on an open French daybed to its left and an alert, large dog, sitting on his haunches to its right. The sturdy, unpainted bronze base appeared as if it were capable of supporting many more tiny figures than it currently held. Eyes still full of sleep, Polly reached out to push in the tiny button that would cease the insistent call.
Her clumsy grope in the dark was customarily imprecise, but the clock’s weight prevented any possible destructive
“accident,” maintaining its proper position on the hosting small, mahogany, inlaid writing table, while affording her a wide margin for error. Polly hoped she had extinguished the cry before her mother heard it and prompted her to get out of bed.
Despite daily desperate attempts to stifle the rude bells, she correctly suspected that her mother, Lily had alternate means with which to end her pleasant dreams. Mom was always so nauseatingly cheerful when she entered the room on schooldays in
Page 18
order to get her out of the house as quickly as possible, or so it seemed obvious to Polly.
She re-positioned herself under the covers of her plushy queen sized bed, pulled the light blue blanket over her head and prayed that the inevitable would not happen. A miracle was required as Polly had gone through this same procedure hundreds of prior mornings and no act of God had yet curtailed her mother’s diligent efforts to get her out of bed and quickly off to fifth grade class hosted by sizeable, matronly Ms. Dermer.
Probably because the other kids researched the matter beforehand, and took the prime back seats Polly was relegated to a seat at front row, center and consequently was subjected to wafts of industrial strength bleach and paint stripper the teacher, presumably sprinkled her body, clothing, or both with every morning. Polly wished that the flabby and flapping armed Ms. would at least sit still, thereby creating no wind.
She felt a few tugs at her leg and then her protective cover was raucously drawn away, leaving her fully exposed in her pink, Tinker-Bell jammies. Accompanying another bout of leg pulls she was verbally assaulted by what seemed a falsely hurried female voice, which said; “Come on. Come on. Do we have to go through this every day?”
Polly rubbed the back of both hands against her blue eyes, forced a yawn and mumbled; “Good morning, Mom. And no, we don’t
Page 19
have to go through this every day. All you have to do is find something else to occupy your time in the mornings.”
Mom was typically fully dressed, this morning in a mall purchased, light brown, long sleeved blouse, buttoned to the top and a white pleated skirt, ready to dash off to her job. She pulled both of Polly’s legs off the bed and put slippers on her bare feet. She said; “You’re such a smart little girl,” then sarcastically added; “That’s why Mrs. Dermer gives you all those C+’s.”
Polly had already figured out a few things about the way the world worked. She fully expected to go to college, in which case her grammar school grades didn’t matter in the least. She would conserve her energy for high school. She stuck out her tongue at her mother, who laughed and imitated the gesture.
Both were making a sound something like a rumbling “thphlfff”
when Adam, her Dad entered the room and stoically stared at the two brilliant conversationalists.
Polly and Mom got quiet and with a certain degree of embarrassment looked at the man judiciously standing there in his off-the-rack, Brooks Brother’s, pinstriped suit. He said;
“That’s what I say to the whole thing; thphflfff, thphflfff and more thphflfff,” his tongue extended in the most undignified manner he ever showed to Polly. “See you tonight. I’m late already.” He glanced at his wristwatch as he left.
Page 20
Mom took Polly’s hand and led her to the “light and airy”
kitchen, the little girl breaking into a trot to keep pace.
Polly said; “Why is everybody in such a rush to do something they don’t feel like doing?”
Mom said; “What makes you think that I don’t feel like spending my day arranging appointments for a crabby, old dentist? That’s precisely why I spent eighteen years in school.”
“Why don’t you get a job like Dad and manage other people?”
Mom kissed her inquisitor on the forehead and said;
“Hopefully you won’t have to find out.”
Polly looked at her Mom curiously and after a short lull, said; “And, by the way. That’s Ms. Dermer. She’d be mad if you said she was married.
Mom said; “Sure,” and placed a bowl of Cheerios and milk on the sleek, wheat-yellow, composite table where Polly had taken a seat on one of the unusual, black plastic, innovatively shaped chairs. The small woman rested her arms, felt the cold and recoiled. She put her hands to her head and pushed back her long dirty blond hair, surveying the offering.
Mom said; “Well?”
Polly grimaced, searched for words and came up with; “I get this every day.”
Mom chuckled and replied; “You expect variety?”
Page 21
“Yeah, some.”
Mom shrugged, wishing she had some herself. She pictured Dr. Borkowsky’s pathetically grinning face that he seemed compelled to regularly situate a foot from hers, as if she were a patient undergoing a root canal. She said; “Suit yourself.
Do you want to go to school on an empty stomach?”
Polly was relieved that she didn’t have to endure the soppy, almost cold bowl of neither here nor there. Enthused she made a chirpy reply, saying; “First of all, you should know by now that I don’t want to go to school. And secondly, if I have to go on an empty stomach, at least I won’t have anything to puke when I get a whiff of Ms. Dermer.”
“Then, go get dressed.” Polly went back to her bedroom and put on an orange pullover top and a paisley skirt. She then dawdled as she brushed her hair, admiring her cute face and trim figure in the large mirror above her Arts and Crafts, unstained oak bureau. Mom waited in the kitchen and her mind briefly wandered off to what kind of a future her little girl was expecting. The vague thoughts she had scared her, but she was able to console herself when she was reminded of how much time would elapse before Polly would get the adult dosage.
Polly covered herself with a light brown, quilted jacket which reached her knees and returned to the kitchen. As she zipped up, she noticed Mom seemed to be somewhere else. She
Page 22
rudely startled her back to the reality of today, by energetically saying; “Ready?”
Mom’s head made the least bit of a quiver. She whispered;
“As ever,” put her left arm over her baby’s shoulder and they walked intertwined to the car. The recent model black Saab was waiting in the driveway of their two story, deep brown stucco, Southwestern styled hacienda. The parapets standing above the flat, tar and gravel roof seemed to be making an aborted attempt to greet the morning sun, apparently stymied two feet into their overly optimistic mission. They settled back, thankful not to lose ground and sink beneath the roof line into the adobe walls.
They were fortunate to have this sturdy support as the Thatcher’s was the oldest house on Camino De Lucia, built traditionally. The rest of the newer development was constructed with two by four framing, utilized to cost consciously mimic their adobe ancestors. No one can tell the difference under a half inch stucco overlay and residents of the fifty house subdivision were proud to have the proper classical appearance, self-imposed blindly contented to ignore hidden reality. What the neighbors were not thrilled with was the eight sided cupola sitting on the Thatcher roof, above everything. Not only was it a violation of the local unenforced zoning statutes, it desecrated the burghers sense of propriety.
To “unknowingly” and overtly broadcast their disdain for local
Page 23
social customs the Thatcher’s installed a replica of the cracked liberty bell from its ceiling which in gale force winds would rock the clapper and sound the call. Not understanding to what the call was made was particularly distressing to the neighbors.
Mom and Dad would laugh thinking; “If you don’t know I can’t tell ‘ya.”
As they exited the crusher fine gravel driveway, to the tune of “Wizard of Oz,” Mom sang; “We’re off to see the Dermers and the wonderful Borkowskys of ours.” They simultaneously screamed; “Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.”
The rest of Prince’s day was about as interesting as one might expect for a dog in a two foot cage. Debby got everyone except him out for a brief “walk,” and cleaned up after the main events. Prince had to hold it as she was not certain of his feisty attitude. At 3PM he had all he could bear and put his paws up on the cage wire, whined loudly and rattled the cage, succeeding in moving it a few inches. The other dogs watched him, wondering if he was taking the brightest approach. The expressions on their faces suggested that he was not. Their eyes alternated between him and Debby, who was sitting at her desk filling out reports that would eventually be scrutinized at State level. If she passed the test she was relatively assured that her inadequate funding would not be reduced by much.
Page 24
Debby was torn between the need for money, the needs of an unfortunate dog and her fear of that same dog. After having no luck telling Prince to be still a few times, she decided that the reason she started doing this type of work many years ago was to take care of the unfortunate abandoned dogs. She rose from her seat, took a hard look at Prince and with great trepidation went for her leash.
Prince sized up his situation. He didn’t manage to survive a whole year by being a dummy. He knew that he could probably intimidate Debby and make a break for it. However, he didn’t know where he was or what he might run into out there. He also liked having food available. As much as he hated the confinement, his first priority had to be nourishment.
After the tinkering with the cage door he had started last night he was reasonably certain that he could get the door open and get his exercise all night. If he was wrong about that he could always bolt the next time Debby took him out.
He could easily tolerate a few more days here, during which time he could find out if the nice lady with the gray hair would take him home. This was the best possibility of all and a mad dash now would eliminate any chance of that happening.
His plan of action seemed obvious to him. Listen to Debby!
She reached his door, ominous black leather leash in hand and a wary look on her round face. He remained motionless as
Page 25
she nervously attached the leash to his collar. She opened it and Prince walked out calmly, not wanting to startle her. She seemed ready to jump back at the slightest provocation, so he gave her none. Debby was as surprised as she could be and wondered what this dog could possibly be thinking. They went out the back door and Prince sighed with relief as he lifted his left leg by the cottonwood tree. He took a long look at the area, seeing that he was on flat land near some large houses and right next to a paved area with cars attendant to the strip mall. He recalled the paths and water from his walk with Marian, but could not see them now.
Debby saw Prince being enamored of the area and knew that this would be the critical point; trying to get him back inside and into his cage when his interests lied elsewhere. She firmly said; “Ready, big guy.” Prince would have appreciated another few minutes outside, but stuck to his well thought out plan and acquiesced to her light tug. As he moved toward the door, he looked up at Debby and tried to say; “See, I’m a good boy.”
Debby correctly understood the unspoken communication.
When they arrived at the door she reached down and petted him.
He arched his back and stretched. They went back in the facility and Prince went right to his cage. Debby disconnected the leather leash and he walked in willingly. She was again surprised, as she expected this would be near impossible only a
Page 26
few minutes ago. She watched him a few moments, with a questioning look on her face. Prince was now the surprised one, as he had anticipated that she would understand what was in their mutual self-interest. He thought; “She either doesn’t think too well, or she thinks that I’m incredibly stupid.” He focused on the possibility that he had just been insulted, turned his back and laid down facing away from Debby. She blinked a few times and finally murmured; “You are the strangest puppy.” Feeling almost at peace with the world he dozed off.
The arena had a dusty, dirt floor and a five foot solid wooden fence around it, giving off the stench of death. The graying unfinished boards were horizontally nailed into six foot posts at eight foot intervals and were firmly sunk into cement poured below ground level, ages ago. Above that was planked seating, twenty rows high, currently occupied by laughing men, holding beer cans and an occasional cigar. He ran to an edge and his white body attempted to scale the wall. He leaped, in an attempt to reach the higher echelon without any assistance.
The men in the stands found that humorous, which he couldn’t comprehend. Many pointed at him, simultaneously nudging their nearest companion, dog fighting fan and increased their level of loud merriment. He looked up at the bloodthirsty crew and mistakenly tried to ask for their help, widely opening his limpid, brown eyes.
Page 27
One yelled out; “You gonna die, stupid.”
Others found that “wisdom” the height of hilarity and for them it probably was both.
He didn’t understand the words, but correctly surmised that he was in some kind of serious trouble and was not going to get any help from the smelly, sweating men, who seemed to be enjoying his demise. He was as frightened as a swimmer in the rapids approaching a rocky waterfall, but proudly decided not to give the cruel, cowardly watchers the satisfaction of showing them that.
He walked to the middle of the arena, as loudspeakers blasted out Eminem rapping “Lose Yourself.” Boompah, boompah, boompah, boompah filled his ears, getting louder with each beat, overtaking his awareness of the cutthroat useless crowd. A door opened and a huge German shepherd strutted out. The door closed behind him and the crowd cheered and yelled encouragement to which he was now deaf.
“Get him, Assassin.”
“Easy prey tonight.”
“Dinner time, big boy.”
“Kill, Assassin. Kill him.”
Assassin seemed extremely sure of himself and paraded around the perimeter of the arena, slowly nodding his head to, what he must have thought were his admiring fans. At 100 pounds
Page 28
he was about four times the size of the white puppy, who was now fully alert, watching the self-confident dog delight his ravenous onlookers. The drumbeat went up another notch.
Suddenly Assassin charged, knocked over “Little White,” and kept going, back to the perimeter, where he opened himself to more accolades. Little White righted himself and was now 100%
sure of what he had formerly only strongly suspected. Assassin charged again, accomplishing the same thing and again strutted away expecting to receive his applause. However, this time his safely distanced, murderous, base patrons displayed impatience for the impending bloodletting.
“Come on.”
“Make him bleed.”
“Show me something.”
“Do it.”
Assassin moved purposefully toward the much smaller puppy, who had again gotten up and faced him squarely. Little White only saw Assassin’s steely eyes and only heard a cacophony of drums.
Assassin charged, again taking Little White off his feet, but this time got on top of him, pinning his body to the dirt ground. He looked up at his admirers, who were out of their seats, screaming; “Kill.” He savored the admiration a moment too long, as Little White summoned up all the strength he had
Page 29
and sunk his teeth into Assassin’s exposed neck and bit down as if he was trying to snap a rubber bone in one protracted shot.
Assassin tried to shake him off, but got nowhere. He lifted Little White off the ground, but couldn't break his grip. He tried to make a bite of his own, but found he had no angle with which to do so. He frantically shook and as a result, tired himself. He began to have difficulty drawing a breath.
Assassin fell on his side, got still and looked up at his former admirers, who were now cheering for the new champion, when the lights went out. Little White was now red with dripping blood, with his teeth still holding vice-like to an unmoving, fallen Assassin’s neck.
Five men ran from the door and over to the former action, now more of a still life. They tried to lift Little White off the dead shepherd, but he still wouldn’t let go. The crowd was crazy with shouts of exhilaration, whistles and laughter.
Little White saw and heard them for the first time since he had walked to center ring. He realized that the limp body he was holding onto was no longer a threat and let it go. He stood next to the dead dog, dripping blood from his mouth onto his already saturated body. The five men were cautiously stroking him, wild with excitement, a mirror reflection of the crowd.
While Little White was proud of himself for having won, glad that he was still alive and uninjured and liked the admiration,
Page 30
when he scanned the contorted faces of the blood-loving men, for the first time he knew the meaning of disgust. One came over with a running hose and turned it on him. “Some prize for winning,” he thought for a second, but he then looked at the motionless carcass of Assassin and decided that the pitiful
“prize” was preferable to losing. The hose slowly did its work and the blood streamed away from him, forming pink puddles and then was swallowed by the hungry dirt.
The celebrating men kept smiling obscenely at him, babbling some jubilant sounding words that meant nothing to him. After the blood was almost completely off of him, one of the men pointed at him and said; “Look. Look. He’s no Little White.
He’s got spots!” For the first time in his short life two irregular, roundish, black spots appeared on his left side.
Another celebrating man said; “He’s a Dalmatian.”
With open disdain, he shook off the water that covered his body, doing his best to spray the nearby revelers. He turned his head around and got his first view of what excited the men.
His first thought was that he may have not been properly cleaned and didn’t like the dark “imperfections.” He rubbed up against the pant leg of one of the men trying to get the stains off, without success. He openly sighed and sat silently resigned on his haunches, allowing the men to congratulate him by furiously petting his head and body. He did his best not to gag on the
Page 31
residue of blood he could still taste, remained perfectly still, aloof and openly disdainful, though the men equated his posture with pride. He thought; “I’ve got to get out of here.”
Prince’s trembling and sweating body jarred awake in his solitary confinement. It was again dark and Debby was gone. He looked around to get his bearings and saw the other dogs looking in his direction, perhaps thinking that he had some type of seizure. He wished that he would never have that dream again, but that was an old wish and he had no control over the results.
He decided that the best thing to do was to keep moving and the possibilities for that were extremely limited in the confines of his cage. He put his right paw partially through the wire and hooked his strong claws in the locking mechanism. Cognizant of his attentive audience, he pulled upward and pushed outward with his body. The door swung open and he went out with it, bolting and coming to an abrupt stop to avoid reeling across the room.
He surprised himself with the ease with which the task was performed and feeling somewhat startled and silly he saw fourteen canine eyes staring wide-eyed at him. Prince had no plan of what came next, but with the scrutiny he was experiencing, he decided to act as if he knew what he was doing.
He tried his luck at the other cage doors and was pleasantly surprised to find out that they all worked exactly the same way.
Page 32
Soon, he was surrounded by seven dogs, gazing at him as if he were magical.
He didn’t enjoy being the center of attention, but it seemed to be his destiny. He always wondered why everyone always watched his antics, when he thought that they would be better served doing antics of their own. He had spent his share of time in the center ring and found it lacking. He felt self-conscious and it seemed that his newly free companions expected him to perform and entertain. Prince didn’t think he could do anything that other dogs couldn’t, if they would only try. He had a second thought about his present company. Who knows how long they have been restricted and caged? What happened to them when they made early attempts at being themselves? If they have had a lifetime of bad experiences with being openly playful, what could he reasonably expect from them now? Maybe they thought that any second the door would swing open and in would come Nazis with whips. Perhaps, in some weird way he had been fortunate to have beaten Assassin so early in life, as it probably resulted in privileges not shared by the multitudes.
Who was he to reject the things others craved? Maybe they didn’t know that to attain their lofty goals all they had to do was become a competent fighter. Yet, he didn’t wish to fight himself. He was put in a circumstance where he had to and did his best to get out of the predicament as soon as he could.
Page 33
Maybe these were the fortunate ones, but look at their sad eyes.
Prince was still a puppy and he was very confused.
He sadly surveyed the dogs watching him. A beautiful female collie was unsure and seemed ready to cringe and cower any minute. A timid male boxer physically appeared to be able to take on the world, but his alert eyes were not a sign of excitement. Rather, he was prepared to run imminently if something bad happened momentarily. A tiny female pug’s eyes darted around the room, warily noticing that everyone there was much larger than she was, no doubt the result of having been hurt numerous times by big things. Prince considered her bravery superior to his own for having come this far. They won his heart and he concluded that no matter how much he felt silly and unsure, the powers that be dictated that he owed it to the others to show them what they wanted to see; rights they could safely share. He solemnly thought; “Somebody I don’t know decided that it was up to me.”
With a little woof and a nod of the head, Prince ran across the room and leaped onto Debby’s desk. The large dogs immediately followed his example and the smaller ones were smart enough to get there in two steps, first utilizing Debby’s chair as a springboard. Prince looked at the seven happy faces near him. Tongues were out and they were looking at each other, rather than him and they seemed to be astonished while thinking;
Page 34
“We did it!!!” He was sure he detected the return of some confidence. He jumped back to the floor and the others again followed, some very cautiously putting their paws at the desk side, heads over the edge, in order to get as close to their destination as possible, before taking the final leap. All were successful and the group spent much of the night frolicking, sometimes looking to Prince for a lead, but more and more often, as the night wore on, they looked to each other and some seemed to feel totally secure in going their own way. Eventually, Prince attained his own wish of becoming a spectator, happily watching the athletic and silly things his new friends could do.
After hours of active play and periods of bench sitting, Prince’s senses told him that they were nearing sunrise and the return of Debby. He thought that if she came back and saw all the dogs running loose that she might get better locks. So, he barked to his exuberant, newly liberated friends and when he had their attention he went back into his cage and closed the door behind him. The others looked askance at him, displaying both annoyance and a lack of understanding. Prince barked more loudly and shook his head violently. The others slowly followed his example, but, he could tell from their expressions, that they didn’t understand why. They did not yet understand that, unfortunately, freedom is temporarily clandestine.
Page 35
At 3:30PM Polly waited in front of the single story faux brick grammar school located in the middle of town. The yellow-white façade seemed to radiate the heat generated by a sun a bit past it’s prime, but unhindered by clouds. She wished her mother’s car would arrive soon, as she was alone and didn’t want to exaggerate the risk of getting stuck with Ms. Dermer’s overbearing company. The teacher was still in the building, either preparing the next day’s boredom or freshening up her formaldehyde perfume and might any second exit the front door and join her young pupil in waiting for a ride. Polly had never seen the pickup, but was certain that it was a refugee from a Stephen King movie driving a hearse. She anxiously tapped her feet on the sidewalk bordering the semi-circular driveway and thought; “Come on lady. You’re always rushing me to be on time.
Have a little courtesy.”
Polly stiffened when she heard the metal pneumatic door whoosh open and tried to pretend that she didn’t notice it. In her mind she tried to conjure up something cordial and innocuous to regurgitate if necessary. She remained braced for the obligatory pleasantries, trying to keep in mind that her sentence would be over in only two months.
Instead of Ms. Dermer, she was joined by a skinny boy, who was more interested in pushing the keys on the rectangular cell phone he carried in his left hand, precariously balanced on a
Page 36
few books. He was pre-occupied with his balancing act and the simultaneous texting of a message to someone. He didn’t notice Polly’s presence until he was two feet from her, when his surprise caused him to clumsily drop his books on her feet, but managed to hold onto his cell phone, after juggling it for a second.
Polly said; “Hey. Watch it.”
The boy stooped to retrieve his books and replied; “Sorry.”
He paused a bit and then with an indignant tone added; “Nobody’s supposed to be standing here now.”
She eyed his nerdy blue windbreaker and short black hair that seemed to go in every direction and decided to answer politely, saying; “I know. My mother is late.”
He scrutinized her and said; “You’re in Dermer’s class, aren’t you?”
“Yeah.”
He mouthed the words; “Ha ha,” and made a contemptuous smile.”
Polly was now annoyed. She considered his statement as one which adds insult to injury and unforgivingly re-considered his previous commentary about where she should be standing. She said; “Listen, nerd-head. I’ll stand anywhere I choose and you better not bother me. What are you doing with that stupid piece of plastic anyway?”
Page 37
“I’m texting messages to guys that say, ‘I’m hot for you baby. Please call.’ It drives ‘em crazy.” He laughed and so did she.
“Can’t they tell that the message comes from your phone?”
“No. I found a way to get around that. It’s probably too difficult for you to understand, though.”
Polly again felt insulted and said; “Sure it isn’t a Palm Pilot that you need? You really are a giant nerd, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, I guess. But, I get a lot of laughs, picturing these guys excitedly calling every girl they know, asking them if they had just texted him and trying to recall girls they didn’t know all that well. They probably waste the whole night as a result of about a minute of my time.” He again laughed, but she didn’t. He added; “Where’s your cell phone?”
“I don’t want one. It’s like a bell on a cat.”
“Family can’t afford it, huh?”
“Yes, my family can afford it. In fact they want me to have one, but I ........”
He cut her off, saying; “Sure, sure.”
“You are the most miserable little nerd I’ve ever met.”
A black Saab entered the school’s driveway, getting both their attentions. It stopped in front of them and they could hear the door button pop. Polly pulled it open, but had to wait to get in as her Mom was leaning across the passenger front
Page 38
seat. She looked at Polly’s companion and said; “Does your little friend here need a ride?”
The two children simultaneously spoke. Polly said; “This nerd is not my little friend,” and he said; “No, thank you. And tell her my name is not nerd. It’s Bobby.”
Mom kept a frozen smile on her face and nervously toyed with her medium length, light brown hair. She leaned back onto the driver’s seat, allowing Polly space to enter. The little girl slammed the door behind her and contentiously said; “Do you have to keep that phony dentist office grin on all day?”
Mom’s expression did not change when she countered with;
“Some of us have learned to be civil.”
“And, after rushing me around all the time, can’t you show up on time? You’re fifteen excruciating minutes late!”
Mom finally modified her grinning mask and changed into one displaying genuine amusement. She looked at Polly knowingly and said; “Things like this wouldn’t happen if you would carry a cell phone as we’ve requested.”
Initially Polly was perturbed at having to hear about the plastic human placement device she wanted no part of. Her annoyance changed to a wry smile when she thought of an answer, saying; “Things like this would too certainly happen, even if I carried a cell phone. I’d just get stuck listening to the why, which is really an excuse and have to pretend how I really
Page 39
didn’t mind.” She felt triumphant sitting there gazing out the side window, watching the empty streets roll by, the only people those getting into or out of cars, some talking to cell phones.
Page 40