The Sky’s the Limit: My Journey with Maryellen

Both my curiosity and heart tug too hard for me to leave now. So when Mrs. Larkin and the rest of the kids come back to the kitchen, I tell them that I can stay. Mrs. Larkin tells me to wash my hands for dinner. As I wash up, Maryellen’s older sister, Carolyn, arrives. She has on jeans with the cuffs rolled up and a man’s shirt with the shirttails tied at the waist. Maryellen introduces us. All of the children are sitting at the kitchen table when Tom asks what dinner is. Mrs. Larkin announces that it’s meatloaf. And then, we see a man come through the door. Beverly shouts that it’s Dad. Everyone starts talking at once.

Mr. Larkin hugs his children and gives Mrs. Larkin a big kiss. Maryellen introduces me and he shakes my hand as if I’m a grown-up. Everyone giggles. He asks me how a nice girl like me could fall in with a bunch of hooligans like his children. I giggle, too. Beverly says that I moved here. And Mom says that I can stay overnight. Mr. Larkin says that that’s good. The more the merrier.

Mrs. Larkin takes a delicious smelling meatloaf out of the oven. And after she serves us, she puts the serving fork in the sink and fills it with sudsy water. It seems like they don’t have a dishwasher here. We all start to eat when Mr. Larkin suddenly puts his fork down and looks up. He says it’s Tuesday night. And then, I jump a foot in the air, because everyone suddenly shouts out, “Hi-yo, Silver! Awaa-a-ay!” Maryellen grins at me and explains that on Tuesdays, they all have dessert in the living room while they watch The Lone Ranger on TV.

After dinner, Mrs. Larkin opens the refrigerator and takes out some cream and whips it into froth with a hand powered egg-beater. My eyes water when I see her spoon the whipped cream on top of chocolate pudding. We all carry our bowls of pudding into the living room and the kids sit on the floor in front of the television while Mr. and Mrs. Larkin sit on the couch. The TV is small, but the cabinet it’s in is huge. Mr. and Mrs. Larkin cheer and shout for the Lone Ranger and Tonto just like the rest of the kids. And Scooter joins in, too, howling to show he’s paying attention. The whole scene is wild and chaotic, but it’s really fun, too. When I do go home eventually, I think I’m going to suggest that my whole family watch TV together. It’d be great if we could all laugh at the same show, the way the Larkins do.

After the show, Mr. Larkin helps Tom and Mikey construct a cabin out of Lincoln Logs, while Carolyn practices piano and Beverly makes a necklace for herself out of plastic beads. Maryellen makes a Thanksgiving card for her grandparents. She sketches herself holding a cornucopia of a fruit. In the background, a funny turkey is running away, its feathers flying off. I tell her it’s good. Maryellen grins and says she loves to doodle. If there was a class at doodling at school, she’d get an A+. But then, her grin fades to a frown. I ask her what’s wrong, and she says that talking about school reminded her that she has to present a report to her class tomorrow. Everyone is supposed to speak about something great about Daytona Beach, something that they’re thankful for. She shivers. She knows how I feel about being scared of the ocean. She’s scared of standing up in front of everyone.

Beverly, who’s been eavesdropping, pulls apart two beads with a popping sound and says it’ll be just like Maryellen’s polio show. She’ll freeze up. Maryellen groans. I offer to help. Maryellen can practice her presentation in front of me. Maryellen stands up and says that’s a great idea. She says we can go to her bedroom.

As we get up to leave, Mrs. Larkin reminds Maryellen to take the trash out. Scooter keeps us company as we gather the kitchen garbage, take it outside, and put it in the trash cans. Paper, glass, cans, and food scraps are all mixed together. There’s clearly no recycling pick up in 1955. When we get to the end of the driveway, I look at the stars and gasp. The sky is so wide and clear. We can see more constellations here than I’ve ever seen at home, even without a telescope. Maryellen asks if I can teach her the constellations. I tell her sure. I point and show her the Big Dipper, and Orion’s Belt, and Pegasus. I’ve never seen that constellation before. I tell Maryellen that I love astronomy. I want to get a telescope someday. Maryellen and says that I’m smart. I’ll figure it out.

I tell Maryellen that I’m not very good at getting what I want. Last summer, I wanted to go to astronomy camp, but my sister campaigned for a ski training camp instead. She won out. Maryellen asks why I didn’t just go to a separate camp. I tell her that Emma and I do almost everything together. It’s easier for the family that way. Maryellen nods. She says it’s like that a lot in her family, too. Sometimes, she feels hemmed in. As I look at the stars, I have a realization. The stars stay in their constellations, but they move across the sky. Just because you’re in a group, it doesn’t mean you’re stuck in one place. Maybe it’s that way about Emma and me as well. We’ll always be a pair, just like a constellation. But we can still move and change.

Maryellen speaks up and says she wishes she could change her report. She wrote about the Daytona car races. They’re the most famous thing in Daytona Beach. And probably everybody else wrote about them, too. She hates the thought of everyone staring at her as she presents the report. But she also dreads presenting it because she knows it’ll be just like everyone else’s report… boring. Suddenly, I have an idea of how we can make Maryellen’s presentation different from everyone else’s and no one will be looking at her as she presents it. I drag Maryellen back inside.