Midnight Sonata

(continued)

By Michael Cain

Hayden chose raspberry iced tea from the plethora of beverages Mrs. Rankin had in her refrigerator. Then Mrs. Rankin sent the girls upstairs to wash their hands before dinner. The Rankin's bathroom shined as much as the kitchen did and smelled of lavender. The girls scrubbed their hands with liquid Dial soap. The scent reminded Hayden of a boy she kind of liked in school, Tony Mathews. A basketball player and a Scorpio. He was the only reason Hayden had dragged herself to that Stowe game.

Coming downstairs, the two girls saw Mr. Rankin, through the front room window, standing outside the house scratching his head. He turned and looked at the house across the street with a kind of bewilderment. Stacey went right for the door and called out to her father.

"Daddy, Daddy, you're home!"

Mr. Rankin turned around at once and gave Stacey the same confused look as he had given the neighbor's house. Then, inscrutably, he smiled and started walking towards the door.

Hayden was confused and expected Stacey to ask her father why he was standing outside, but she didn't. She just told him what she had learned in school that day (Hayden realized as she listened to Stacey that she hadn't been paying attention in class, for she certainly hadn't learned about electron particles today.)

"This is Hayden, Daddy. She's staying over tonight."

"A classmate of Stacey's?" he asked.

Hayden nodded her head.

"Very well. I'm David Rankin. Good to meet you." And he held out his hand and smiled.

"Likewise." Hayden said and shook his hand, noticing how large and strong it was and how much rougher his skin was compared to everyone else she knew, which were all females.

Mrs. Rankin came and took Mr. Rankin's briefcase, smiling and kissing him on the cheek.

"Dinner's ready." She said to the girls. Hayden and Stacey headed into the kitchen and took their seats.

"Did Larry drive you?" Mrs. Rankin asked her husband.

"Yeah, I just got turned around a little."

"That's fine, just fine."

Everything looked so good, steaming in their matching dishes, gleaming from special sauces: buttered corn, whipped potatoes, a pork roast glazed in honey and rosemary, and a large bowl of salad, already tossed in a light red sweet & sour sauce.

But what really caught Hayden's eye was a large, frosted pitcher of milk, just sitting there, glistening — practically glowing like the aurora borealis — right there on the table. Half of her interest in the pitcher of milk was that in her house milk was used only on Cheerios in the morning, or in her mother's coffee. But here it was on the dinner table, and Mrs. Rankin was pouring the cool liquid in her family's glasses.

Hayden stared.

"Would you like a glass, dear?"

Do I? Hayden asked herself. "Yes, please."

The milk was so cold that it frosted up the glass on contact.

The family said grace, Mrs. Rankin passed the plate with the pork roast first, and Hayden picked up her glass of milk and took a distrustful first sip. It was good, very good. She was halfway through the glass before the dish of pork roast had reached her.

Hayden felt so happy, so saved, that she was sure this was where she really belonged.

Mrs. Rankin popped popcorn while Hayden and Stacey watched The Wizard of Oz on TV . Stacey sat there enrapt in the story, though she had said this was the seventh time she'd seen it. Hayden was a little bored at first, not having seen it even once before. But when the color came on, when Dorothy stepped out of her house and into Munchkin Land, she was riveted. It was how she felt right then. The story unfolded, and the cast of characters assembled. Of the two witches, to Hayden's relief, neither one resembled her mother. Grace wasn't pretty or nice enough to resemble Glinda. But she was certainly too kind and to pretty to be the Wicked Witch of the West — though she had turned herself green once, during the Summer Solstice of '96.

Hayden liked the grand sweep of the journey. She even liked seeing the Wicked Witch melted by a lone bucket of water. But that whole "No place like home" ending made her want to retch up all her greedily eaten popcorn.

As the credits rolled, Mrs. Rankin reached down for the empty popcorn bowl.

"Hayden?" she asked through that sweet smile of hers.

"Yes, Mrs. Rankin."

"Your mother's name is Grace, right?"

Hayden simply nodded. She wasn't planning on talking about her mother here, but she didn't need much of an imagination to know what Mrs. Rankin's next question might be.

"She's a psychic?" she whispered. Hayden was surprised she hadn't asked, "She's a witch?"

"Yes ma'am."

"She reads the future?" Her eyes were tinged red, not with curiosity but with a desperation that seemed quite unnatural on her. Worse, even, than the sea green fingernail polish.

"Kind of ..."

Mrs. Rankin seemed lost in her thoughts, her eyes darting here and there, her pink stained fingers picking absently at the empty bowl.

"I'll have to make an appointment with her sometime." With that she stood up, empty bowl in hand and made for the kitchen. The way she said, "I'll have to make an appointment ...." made it sound like she was planning a trip to the doctor.