The Sky’s the Limit: My Journey with Maryellen

Carolyn puts a record on her turntable, “Rock Around the Clock,” by Bill Haley and the Comets. Gran listens to the oldies station, so I know it, though she wouldn’t recognize me dancing like this. We sing so loud that Scooter hides under the bed, and Tom and Mikey barrel in as the song ends. Mikey spots my watch and shouts, “Tick-tock!” and touches it before I can pull my arm away.

Nothing happens. Apparently the watch only works for me. Maryellen says Mikey is crazy about watches. She once cut a wristwatch picture from a catalog and taped it to his wrist until it fell apart. Mikey nods and taps his bare wrist.

I wish I could tell Mikey the whole truth about the watch, but I have to be tricky with this one. My heart lurches. I don’t have younger siblings, only Emma, one minute older, and we look so alike that even our parents confuse us.

Once, before we knew how serious Coach Stanislav is, Emma and I pulled a twin-switcheroo on him, wearing our identical ski uniforms and swapping eyeglasses to pass for each other. He got furious and has distrusted us a little ever since. I’m afraid to tell Maryellen I’m really from more than sixty years in the future. She won’t believe me, and might think I’m crazy and not want to be my friend.

Back in the kitchen, Mrs. Larkin says I look much better and that this is a good time to call my parents. She points to a phone as big as a shoebox. I’ve never used a dial phone, but I’ve seen it in movies, so I spin it with my fingertip, sure it won’t work. The line crackles and goes dead. I tell Mrs. Larkin I can’t reach my parents.

Mrs. Larkin guesses they cut off their old phone service and will call once they have a new number. Before I have to explain further, Maryellen asks if we can go outside. Mrs. Larkin agrees and tells us to come back when the streetlights go on. Dad will be a little late and miss dinner.

Maryellen shoots out the door, saying she usually plays hide-and-seek outside, something I’ve only done indoors. She hollers, and kids run over from the neighboring houses. I hang back, feeling shy, but Maryellen introduces me to everybody and says we should all play.

Even though it’s November, it feels like summer, warm enough for endless time to play. At home, Emma and I do homework before dinner, then head to a club meeting or team practice, every minute scheduled and run by grown-ups. Here, the grown-ups mow lawns or chat nearby but otherwise leave us alone. It’s nice.

When the streetlights come on, Mrs. Larkin calls us inside, has us wash our hands, and seats us at the kitchen table for canned spaghetti and meatballs with cheese to sprinkle on top. I mention we never have it with meatballs and cheese, since Gran is a vegetarian and my sister is lactose intolerant.

Everyone stares. Tom forks an extra meatball onto my plate, and Mrs. Larkin says she hopes I’ll like it. Mid-dinner, Mr. Larkin comes home in his suit jacket, newspaper under his arm, reminding me of Dad. He kisses his wife, then asks where I came from.

All the kids talk at once, and somebody introduces me as Sophie, Betty’s niece. Mr. Larkin welcomes me, joking that it’s been quiet with only five children. The Larkins have a “more the merrier” attitude that makes me feel welcome just for being me. It strikes me that Emma and I could’ve been that welcoming to Gran, who’s been trying to get to know us.

Mr. Larkin jokes that it’s good I’m becoming a Washingtonian, so I can keep an eye on the government, maybe check on President George Washington. The kids laugh. Beverly points out Washington isn’t president anymore, Eisenhower is. Mr. Larkin says he must live in the Pink House. Everyone laughs, and Maryellen corrects him, it’s the White House. Mr. Larkin winks and says if Ellie got her hands on it, it’d be pink.

I turn to Maryellen for an explanation. She blushes and says she once tried to paint the front door red before Aunt Betty’s visit, wanting their house to stand out. Maryellen finishes the story. She was wearing roller-skates when Joan knocked into her, sending red paint flying, ruining Jerry’s tennis whites, burning the brownies, and leaving Mikey to paint red stripes on Scooter. Even after the cleanup, the porch stayed pink. It’s still pink!

We all burst into laughter, and Maryellen doesn’t seem embarrassed at all. She likes being the center of attention. Her family has clearly forgiven her mistake, and I wonder if mine will forgive me, if I’ll ever laugh about my own.

Maryellen turns to her father and asks if they could see the White House someday, maybe visit the art museums in Washington, too. Mr. and Mrs. Larkin exchange a look, and Mr. Larkin finally announces that they’re going on a trip.