Taxis

Patty and Teresa were both seven years old and they lived in the same neighborhood and went to the same school and they were friends. And their equally large families (of which they were both the youngest) were friends. Some in their families had even dated or married each other.

Both families were working class, but Patty's mother stayed home while Teresa's mother worked as a nurse, so they always seemed to have a little more money for extras. As a result, Teresa got ballet lessons and Patty got stories about how much fun ballet lessons were.

Teresa was an outgoing pretty blonde and Patty was a studious plain brunette. But still, they were friends and always looked forward to gatherings where they could play and complain about what awful things their brothers had done lately.

Then one beautiful summer day, while crossing the street in front of her house, Teresa was hit by a taxicab. She had dashed out between two cars and the driver didn't see her until it was too late. She flew through the air until the curb and her forehead met.

Surprisingly, there wasn't much blood, but the neighborhood was mad with panic. She was very still, but breathing. Several mothers fled into their kitchens, all calling for an ambulance. The cab driver knelt over her, praying with the rosary that had recently been hanging from his rearview mirror.

An ambulance arrived, taking Teresa away to the hospital where her mother worked. Patty sat on the curb wondering when she would see her friend again, until her mother came out, took her hand, and walked with her back into the house.

Teresa was in a coma for six weeks. Her mother worked double shifts so she could be near her as much as possible. Then one day, she opened her eyes. Aside from the still lingering black circles under her eyes, she looked exactly the same.

Except she wasn't.

The burgeoning grace her dancing showed was replaced with muscular awkwardness and limbs that didn't quite want to obey their master. But it was worse. The vivacious seven-year-old girl was gone and had been replaced by a frustrated two-year-old who knew parts of words but couldn't articulate them.

Teresa's overall recovery went surprisingly quickly, but the doctors made it clear that the damage to the forebrain would never completely heal. There would always be a physical clumsiness, language difficulties and, possibly, her judgment would be impaired. Wait and see was the best advice they could offer.

Patty didn't see Teresa much after she was released from the hospital, and although still social, the families drifted apart. One day, their mothers thought it would be therapeutic if Teresa could give a short ballet performance for her old classmates and Patty could be her "assistant". Teresa bossed Patty around as she helped Teresa get into her tutu, lace up her ballet shoes, and carefully placed the needle down on the chosen track of the record.

Patty's mother told her to be patient, that Teresa's bossiness was part of her "sickness", so Patty smiled and did and redid all the tasks Teresa demanded of her. When Teresa stepped out of the cloakroom in front of the other students, Patty turned the power on to the turntable.

Teresa began to move, but it was less like ballet and more like a wrestling match with herself. The other children sat watching, fidgeting, looking over at Patty and the turntable, hoping the song would end soon. They awkwardly clapped as Teresa took a bow and Patty quickly put the record away and dashed back into the cloakroom to help Teresa change.

Not long after that, Teresa's family moved to a bigger house in the suburbs. The following summer vacation, Patty's mother asked if she'd like to visit Teresa for a week.

"Like a sleepover?"

"Exactly, except for a full week!"

"Is she still sick?"

"Her mama says she's much better and really wants to see you."

Patty missed her friend, missed her very much and quickly said yes.

Patty and her parents drove over and they all enjoyed a little cookout that night, talking and laughing. It was almost like it used to be. Her parents got ready to leave, both giving her big hugs.

"Now be a good girl!"

"Have fun with Teresa!"

"We'll pick you up next Friday!"

They pulled out of the driveway, everyone waving to each other.

Patty and Teresa went up to Teresa's room so Patty could unpack. She carefully placed her clothes in the bureau drawer that had been emptied for her use, and took her toothbrush into the bathroom. When she returned, Teresa was already dressed for bed, so Patty gathered her pyjamas and went back to the bathroom to change.

When she came back to the bedroom, the drawer with her clothes in it was open and her clothes were gone.

"Teresa, what did you do with my clothes?"

"I hid them. That way you have to stay here."

"It's okay, I'll be here for a week, silly!"

Teresa looked at her intently and said simply "No".

"Well, we should probably go to sleep now. I'm tired."

They both climbed into Teresa's twin bed and Patty soon fell asleep. Several hours later, she awoke and couldn't move. Teresa had wrapped her arms and legs completely around her.

Patty tried to extract herself without waking Teresa, but to no avail. And then she realized that Teresa wasn't asleep.

"Teresa, let me go", she whispered.

"No! You can't go!"

Teresa clung tighter, so Patty just stopped resisting. "It's part of her sickness. She can't help it", she thought.

She lay sleeplessly for the rest of the night and finally, at the moment where the night releases its grip, Teresa rolled away from her and soundlessly fell asleep.

Patty slipped out of bed and quietly began searching for her clothes with the dim light of dawn creeping through the blinds. They had been stuffed into another drawer, so she picked out her clothes for the day, put the rest in her bag, and took everything with her into the bathroom to change.

Teresa's mother had to work very early that morning, so it fell to Manny, the eldest brother, to keep an eye on the girls until she returned.

Patty came downstairs, leaving her bag by the front door and feeling so anxious she couldn't breathe.

"Manny, can I call my mom?"

"Sure Patty - do you remember your number or do you want me to dial it for you?"

"I know it. Thank you, Manny."

Patty carefully dialed the number, listening for her mother's voice on the other end.

"Mummy, please let me come home. Let me come home now!"

"Your father's at work, sweetie. Can't you wait until this evening?"

"No, Mummy, I can't. Please!"

"What's wrong?"

She felt a little calmer now.

"It's not my fault...it's not her fault! I just can't stay here. Please, Mummy?"

"Fine. But you have to talk to me when you get home. Please put Manny on the phone."

"Thank you, Mummy. I love you."

"I love you too, sweetie. I don't understand what's wrong, but I love you too."

Manny waited in front of the house with her for the taxi to arrive. As the large yellow vehicle pulled to a stop, Patty turned to him as he put her overnight bag in the trunk.

"I'm sorry."

He looked up to the second story window and saw Teresa looking at them through the curtains.

"It's okay."

She climbed in the back seat while Manny gave the driver her address and as the taxi pulled away, Patty sobbed.