While Gert was picking up her man-sized burger at Dairy Queen on Sunday she also acquired a brand new red balloon festooned with the DQ label. Gert has an unnatural love for balloons. She will do anything for them. The gift of a balloon is better than a diamond for her.
After she ate her man-sized burger, she began playing with her balloon. She was in her room, dancing with her red balloon. Hannah Montana blasted out the tunes and Gert boogies with Mr. Balloon. They dressed up as cheerleaders and did cheers. They frolicked in the grass, went for long, romantic walks. They made plans for the future. Talked about buying a house and what the kids would look like.
Gert is the type of kid who puts a lot of emotional importance on immediate moments. She had two dollars that she used to buy entries into a drawing for an American Girl doll and Polly Pockets at her school carnival. She crossed everything she had, closed her eyes and hoped. She was so emotionally wrapped up in this drawing that it stopped being about winning a prize and it became about her hopes and dreams for the future. If this went well, then the rest of her life would go well. If it didn’t, she was doomed to a life of disappointment. Sounds like her father.
Her name wasn’t drawn. Then, after her man-sized burger, she tried to win a trip to Hawaii with a code on her DQ cup. When she was trying to scratch off a square, the little flash scratcher scratched the wrong thing. She didn’t win the trip and, of course, it meant her dreams would never come true.
Later that afternoon I was sitting folding laundry. Gert came running through the room with Mr. Balloon crying, “I need tape! I need tape!”
She grabbed the tape from my work box and began emergency surgery on Mr. Balloon.
“My thumb accidentally scratched it and it has a hole,” she sobbed. “He’s leaking.”
She fixed it and walked off with Mr. Balloon floating high. But we all know where this is heading, don’t we?
Ten minutes later she came back to the room, looking for more tape. Mr. Balloon was drooping and looking sad, unable to hold himself up. Gert tried more surgery, but it was no use. Mr. Balloon was going to die. So young. And with such a promising relationship.
Gert sobbed in my arms. Why did it have to happen? Why can’t she have anything nice? Why is Matilda’s balloon still okay? Why? Why? Why?
We agreed that she should enjoy the time they still had left and make the rest of Mr. Balloon’s day a happy one. And they did. They had a good time and slowly the pain and grief subsided. Though I wasn’t aware of how completely until later.
Gert came walking into the kitchen holding Mr. Balloon, who was now the size of an egg.
“Do you have a pin,” she asked.
“Why?”
“It’s time,” she said. “He’s going slow now. I think I just need to suffocate him.”
We really need to hide the dictionary.
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