Riverside, NY July 5th, 1987 1:50am
Take me out to the ball game
Take me out with the crowd.
Buy me some peanuts and Cracker Jack
I don't care if I never get back
He was with another one, who was skinner than he was, but wore the same baggy striped clothes. His face was painted half black and half blue, his lips all black. Mr. GreenFace's paint was much more frightening to me, or maybe it was because I had never seen him smile and was smirking just a little at me. My hands stayed down. Mr. BlueFace kept going by. He was swinging his baseball bat back and forth at his side.
I felt something stab me in the ribs, not enough to hurt me very badly but enough to let me know that he noticed me. I cried out and kept my head down as he walked past me and inside.
Let me root, root, root for the home team
If they don't win it's a shame
For it's one, two, three strikes, you're out
At the old ball game
I kept singing anyway. It made me feel better, but my ribs hurt so bad it was a little hard to breathe. I had eaten three puddings already and the cupboard only had one left, which I was saving for tomorrow before I went to buy new ones. Mom was at a Fourth of July party and she thought I was sleeping. I sat on the steps until came back. I wanted him to notice me singing what his favorite song probably was, but it seemed to me like he didn't enjoy it much.
Across the street I counted seven birds, two in the tree, four on the ground, and one on the telephone wire. I got up to go to sleep, but when I turned around he was standing there.
It frightened me so badly, if I had been holding a spoon I would have dropped it. Strangely, I was holding a spoon and so I did drop it, ha-ha. The clanging sound made me flinch, but Mr. GreenFace didn't blink. He had the bat in his right hand and kept smacking it in the open palm of his left hand. His face was unreadable, I couldn't tell if he was mad or happy or what. That's what scared me the most. I counted how many steps until the door from where I was, three stairs, plus seven if I ran, ten steps. I couldn't tell how many it would take to get around him, though. But what would be the point if he could just knock me out with one swing? Even if I wanted to run my feet felt glued to the pavement.
Then he smiled a smile way too toothy to make me feel safe. "The face paint. You?"
The sound of his voice was much more ordinary than I expected. He was calm, quiet and relaxed, maybe even shy sounding. He didn't sound like he wanted to hurt me.
Dumbly, I shook my head up and down. "Yes."
The smile grew, and I swore this time it seemed more real than the last slimy one. "Thank you." The swinging had stopped and I hadn't noticed until then.
"You're welcome," I said. My heart was pounding in my ears, I swore I was going to faint. He nodded and walked inside without looking back.I watched that word, Furies. "Wait!" I called after him.
He stopped dead in his tracks to glance back at me without any real interest. Did he not like me because he knew I was screwed up in the head? It wasn't my fault, Mr. GreenFace. "What's your name?"
After a minute of oddly loud silence, save for the crickets, he said," Thurman." The pride in his voice I noticed easily.
"Thurman," I repeated. "I'm Milty. I live five doors from you."
Mr. GreenFace, or Thurman, said, "Yes."
Once he was gone, I sat on the steps again and picked up the spoon, put it in my pocket. Something told me this wasn't going to be the last Thurman will see of me.