'Waltzing Mathilda'

By Ennon

A/N- A grown Enrique Ricardo, Jr. reflects on the one who he knew he could rely on.

Jerrod came home from school the other day and asked me to help him find out about different countries' national anthems for a project online. His mom and her boyfriend were at some New Age retreat so they dumped him on me for the weekend. I guess I should feel bad about not seeing him more but I don't. He's just a small kid and what do I know about them? Pen and I never really had much of a relationship even when we were first married. Never did with either wife. I don't know why we thought things would improve bringing Jerrod into it.

So I hardly ever see him. I guess I should feel guilty but he has no real place in my life. Then again, I don't think I ever had any real place in my parents' lives. It always seemed as though I was forgotten unless one or the other wanted me for some cheesy showbiz action- and once I grew out of being a cute little kid they wanted me for that less and less. I learned long ago to not expect any real attachment.

Anyway, Jerrod came by and we looked up Australia's anthem. He insisted that that was the one he wanted to do his project on. Something about it caught my attention but what? Some drunken miner dancing with a kangaroo? Why should I care?

Mathilda. .

Yeah, Mom would every once in a while hug me but she was usually off doing some kind of mischief with Aunt Ethel. Sometimes Dad and Uncle Fred would try to relive their youth by having me do sports for them but I was never an athlete. The only time they ever really took an interest in me was when I'd pound those bongo drums! All outsiders thought I must have really loved those drums the way I kept pounding them but it was more that I loved the attention those drums got me from them.

I have some memories of my Grandma Magillicuddy and she seemed more interested in wanting to be with me than Mom was but she was more than a bit flighty. No doubt that's where Mom got her deal from.

Then there was Abuelita Ricardo! She was even more huggy than Mom and Grandma but I only saw her a time or so in Havana. Then those times she and the other Ricardos were trying to get settled in Miami after Castro, it was too chaotic for us to ever have any one-on-one time. I never really had much to do with them because they only spoke in Spanish and I followed Mom's lead of learning as little as possible. Was I that desperate to make Mom want to be around me? But those hugs and kisses crossed all language barriers and I can still hear her 'Riquitos' echoing in my head! I found out some years later that right before they fled Castro, Dad considered going back to Cuba to grow tobacco. What would my life had been like had we done that?

Yeah, Mom and Dad were always running from one spot to another with Mom getting into mischief and Dad trying to bail her out. Even as a baby, I can remember knowing I wouldn't be able to rely on them for anything real. I had to rely on myself.

I couldn't care less about the rest of the world because there was no one who was really there for me.

Wait. There was.

Mrs. Trumble!

As far back as I could remember, Mom, Aunt Ethel and sometimes Dad and Uncle Fred would drop me off at her apartment at a moment's notice and disappear. They knew they could rely on her- and so could I. Oh, she was very old even when I was a baby but how I looked forward to those times when they'd bring me to her. She'd been neglected by her family but time seemed to turn back for her and stand still for me. She'd sing lullabies to me and sometimes , she'd hold me in her arms and we'd dance. Sometimes, it was just a few minutes. Often it was for hours but then there were the times when they went traveling when I'd stay with her for days and even months at a time when they traveled. How I wished those times would never end. We may have been dumped by those who were supposed to love us so they could run off and do their own things but we had each other!

Unlike Mom and Dad, she always was there for me- and I mean always! Now that I think of it, she never even left the apartment building except to take me to the park or zoo because I can't recall a single occasion I wasn't dropped off at her place that she wasn't there. Not even one time- and I think if she stepped out, it would have been traumatic for both Mom who'd have to dump her plans as well as for me who'd wonder where she was. How she managed to arrange her life so she'd never have to leave the building in the days before 'Net and cells, I can't even imagine but she did! Now that I think of it, she must have really loved me to have been willing to have done that. Mom and Dad both would have torn the building down with their bare hands if they'd had to stay in the same building with me all the time for more than a few hours but not Mrs. Trumble!

Even when I started kindergarten, I knew she'd be there waiting for me to tell her all about my friends and activities there. Mom only would get interested when I'd mention there being some school pageant or play so she could crash or take it over! Oh, it's not as though Mom wasn't totally disinterested in me. I can remember her breaking into my hospital room so she'd be there when I got my tonsils out. But why did I get the feeling she craved the adventure of getting there more than being there?

Then came the day when Mom and Dad told me we were moving to Connecticut. Oh, how me and my dog Fred would have all that big yard to play in! How my room would be much bigger! How I'd make all kinds of new friends out there! How this was all for my own good.

Oh, how I cried at the thought of being separated from Mrs. Trumble but she and Mom promised that we'd still see each other all the time. Just a short train ride from Connecticut. Mrs. Trumble cried like I'd never seen before but she said it was because she was happy I was going to grow up in the countryside. We hugged and kissed then she told me to be brave.

That night I had a nightmare. I ran outside and thought I'd run back to the brownstone but the yard seemed so much bigger at night than it had in the day- and I couldn't even think of how to get out of that yard much less find my way to the train station- or the brownstone! I can't remember if was Mom or Dad who found me and tucked me in but all I remember is that I was sad it wasn't Mrs. Trumble.

The next morning, I asked Mom and Dad to take me back to see Mrs. Trumble but they said they had too much unpacking to do. Then too much shopping. Then too much work. Shortly afterwards, Aunt Ethel and Uncle Fred came to live on our land and I asked them but Aunt Ethel made the same excuses and Uncle Fred said that he couldn't afford the extra train ticket when he'd go back to the brownstone to collect the rent.

So I quit asking and I guess they convinced themselves I'd forgotten her because they never brought her up again.

I imagined that one day they'd take me back there or that I'd grow up to visit but that didn't happen. One time when I was eighteen, I went back to the brownstone-only to discover that it had become a tenement and not a single person there recognized me or even knew who Mrs. Trumble was- much less what had happened to her. Then about five years later, I was visiting Mom and heard her tell someone on the phone that she'd heard a few years before that Mrs. Trumble had died in her 90's When I asked Mom for details, she said she hadn't heard more than what she'd told the person on the phone but I'd long since given up counting on Mom or Dad opening up to me so I never knew whether that was the whole truth or not.

So here it is decades after I last saw her, and now I find that I wish could waltz with Mrs. Mathilda Trumble one more time and tell her how much she meant to me!