The Anything Box

over the crumpled brown bag on the table. "No, no!" I corrected her thought
hastily. "One. One is plenty," and sat on the edge of a chair watching as she
broke an egg into the sizzling frying pan.
"Hard or soft?" she asked.
"Hard," I said casually, feeling very woman-of-the-worldish, dining
out—well, practically—and for breakfast, too! I watched Mrs. Klevity spoon the
fat over the egg, her hair swinging stiffly forward when she peered. Once it
even dabbled briefly in the fat, but she didn't notice, and as it swung back,
it made a little shiny curve on her cheek.
"Aren't you afraid of the fire?" I asked as she turned away from the stove
with the frying pan. "What if you caught on fire?"
"I did once." She slid the egg out onto my plate. "See?" She brushed her
hair back on the left side and I could see the mottled pucker of a large old
scar. "It was before I got used to Here," she said, making Here more than the
house, it seemed to me.
"That's awful," I said, hesitating with my fork.
"Go ahead and eat," she said. "Your egg will get cold." She turned back to
the stove and I hesitated a minute more. Meals at a table you were supposed to
ask a blessing, but—I ducked my head quickly and had a mouthful of egg before
my soundless amen was finished.
After breakfast I hurried back to our house, my lunch-money dime clutched
securely, my stomach not quite sure it liked fried eggs so early in the
morning. Mom was ready to leave, her shopping bag in one hand, Danna swinging
from the other, singing one of her baby songs. She liked the day nursery.
"I won't be back until late tonight," Mom said. "There's a quarter in the
corner of the dresser drawer. You get supper for the kids and try to clean up
this messy place. We don't have to be pigs just because we live in a place
like this."
"Okay, Mom." I struggled with a snarl in my hair, the pulling making my
eyes water. "Where you working today?" I spoke over the clatter in the Other
room where the kids were getting ready for school.
She sighed, weary before the day began. "I have three places today, but the
last is Mrs. Paddington." Her face lightened. Mrs. Paddington sometimes paid a
little extra or gave Mom discarded clothes or leftover food she didn't want.
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She was nice. "You get along all right with Mrs. Klevity?" asked Mom as she checked hershopping bag for her work shoes."Yeah," I said. "But she's funny. She looks under the bed before she goesto bed." Mom smiled. "I've heard of people like that, but it's usually old maids
they're talking about."
"But, Mom, nothing coulda got in. She locked the door after I got there."
"People who look under beds don't always think straight," she said."Besides, maybe she'd like to find something under there."
"But she's got a husband," I cried after her as she herded Danna across thecourt.
"There are other things to look for besides husbands," she called back.
"Anna wants a husband! Anna wants a husband!" Deet and LaNell were dancingaround me, teasing me singsong. Kathy smiled slowly behind them.
"Shut up," I said. "You don't even know what you're talking about. Go on toschool."
"It's too early," said Deet, digging his bare toes in the dust of the frontyard. "Teacher says we get there too early."
"Then stay here and start cleaning house," I said.
They left in a hurry. After they were gone, Deet's feet reminded me I'dbetter wash my own feet before I went to school. So I got a washpan of waterfrom the tap in the middle of the court, and sitting on the side of the bed, Ieased my feet into the icy water. I scrubbed with the hard, gray, abrasivesoap we used and wiped quickly on the tattered towel. I threw the water outthe door and watched it run like dust-covered snakes across the hard-packedfront yard.
I went back to put my shoes on and get my sweater. I looked at the bed. Igot down on my stomach and peered under. Other things to look for. There wasthe familiar huddle of cardboard cartons we kept things in and the familiardust fluffs and one green sock LaNell had lost last week, but nothing else.
I dusted my front off. I tied my lunch-money dime in the corner of ahandkerchief, and putting my sweater on, left for school.
I peered out into the windy wet semi-twilight "Do I have to?"
"You said you would," said Mom. "Keep your promises. You should have gonebefore this. She's probably been waiting for you."
"I wanted to see what you brought from Mrs. Paddington's." LaNell and Kathywere playing in the corner with a lavender hug-me-tight and a hat with greengrapes on it. Deet was rolling an orange on the floor, softening itpreliminary to poking a hole in it to suck the juice out.
"She cleaned a trunk out today," said Mom. "Mostly old things that belongedto her mother, but these two coats are nice and heavy. They'll be good coverstonight. It's going to be cold. Someday when I get time, I'll cut them up andmake quilts." She sighed. Time was what she never had enough of. "Better takea newspaper to hold over your head."
"Oh, Mom!" I huddled into my sweater. "It isn't raining now. I'd feelsilly!"
"Well, then, scoot!" she said, her hand pressing my shoulder warmly,briefly.
I scooted, skimming quickly the flood of light from our doorway, andsplishing through the shallow runoff stream that swept across the court. Therewas a sudden wild swirl of wind and a vindictive splatter of heavy, coldraindrops that swept me, exhilarated, the rest of the way to Mrs. Klevity'shouse and under the shallow little roof that was just big enough to cover theback step. I knocked quickly, brushing my disordered hair back from my eyes.The door swung open and I was in the shadowy, warm kitchen, almost in Mrs.Klevity's arms.
"Oh!" I backed up, laughing breathlessly. "The wind blew—"
"I was afraid you weren't coming." She turned away to the stove. "I fixed
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some hot cocoa."
I sat cuddling the warm cup in my hands, savoring the chocolate sip by sip.She had made it with milk instead of water, and it tasted rich and wonderful.But Mrs. Klevity was sharing my thoughts with the cocoa. In that brief momentwhen I had been so close to her, I had looked deep into her dim eyes and wasfeeling a vast astonishment. The dimness was only on top.Underneath—underneath—
I took another sip of cocoa. Her eyes—almost I could have walked into them,it seemed like. Slip past the gray film, run down the shiny bright corridor,into the live young sparkle at the far end.
I looked deep into my cup of cocoa. Were all grownups like that? If youcould get behind their eyes, were they different too? Behind Mom's eyes, wasthere a corridor leading back to youth and sparkle?
I finished the cocoa drowsily. It was still early, but the rain wasdrumming on the roof and it was the kind of night you curl up to if you'rewarm and fed. Sometimes you feel thin and cold on such nights, but I wasfeeling curl-uppy. So I groped under the bed for the paper bag that had myjamas in it. I couldn't find it.
"I swept today," said Mrs. Klevity, coming back from some far country ofher thoughts. "I musta pushed it farther under the bed."
I got down on my hands and knees and peered under the bed. "Ooo!" I said."What's shiny?"
Something snatched me away from the bed and flung me to one side. By thetime I had gathered myself up off the floor and was rubbing a banged elbow,Mrs. Klevity's bulk was pressed against the bed, her head under it.