The Pink Eraser

Chapter 1

State of Panic

1:00am… Again. Kitchen clock ticking. She could hear it from her bed. Refrigerator running. A faint drip in the bathtub. Maybe she even heard the footsteps of the grey spider that crawled behind the couch. She was so tired! Every night, it got to be this late, and she was so exhausted that she finally gave in to the fight.

Often, she would nap in the afternoon, just to gather enough energy to stay up later and later. She feared the sleep that most found restful. Her sleep was always restless and fitful. Ninety minutes into sleep, when her brain would make the changeover from deep sleep to the REM stage, she would awaken in an anxious panic, sights and sounds then indeterminate, but she knew the struggle in her chest as she felt barely able to breathe.

Some nights, she would rush out of bed and create a path in the carpeting as she walked around circle after circle, holding her head, gasping for air, and then trying to settle her breathing in to a slower pattern. The feeling of fear was relentless.

Other times, her legs were so restless, she felt as she squirmed around the bed, that if she could just run, run very fast, each way, downtown and back, Ohh! Maybe just maybe she would tire enough to get to sleep. Why though?! So that she could wake up in another state of panic?!

Unable to take the drugs that lulled others with slurred speech, drooping eyelids, and pureed thoughts, into a cradle of deep slumber, Opal Googled and read seemingly endless tricks and tips and nature’s remedies. Herbal tinctures. Cup after cup of chamomile tea. Warm milk. A spoonful of honey. Mmm… she would get to sleep, but it was later in the night when the frightening moments would come back. She was so afraid! Please! No! Not again!

Yes again! Get used to it! It would come over and over and over!

This time, she heard the yelling and screaming first. Someone was out to get her. Opal heard the noise, the threats and knew that she had to run! Hurry! Don’t think! Just run!

Where was the noise coming from?! Who was it that was going to kill her now?! There was no time to think! Opal had to run and so she did. Breathlessly. Stumbling but staying upright, running as fast as she could.

Look around! The weather was sunny. It was day time. If it was day time, others must see this! Why wouldn’t they come to help?! Opal kept running, and heard the screams from behind!

"I will get you this time! You are not getting away from me! Do you hear me?! Come back! Stop!"

But, Opal didn’t stop. She kept running and running. Down the sidewalk where the concrete had cracked. Oh, she might slip! Then, onto the road, the tar, aged but smoother, she was safer running on this surface.

I said Stop! When I get my hands on you, I will kill you!"

The voice seemed to be catching up! Opal ran faster still! There had to be a place to hide where she would be safe and hidden from this perpetrator, this would be murderer, but where?! Into the school yard! Surely, there would be people there to help!

Agh! There was no one! Fences! Opal felt pain in her chest; tightening, clenching pain! Constricting her throat pain!

Stop right there! You are going to be dead soon, missy! When I get my hands on you, I will kill you with them!

Omigod! The voice was right behind her! Opal saw a red truck and made a dash to jump onto the back. There was a bright blue plastic tarp in the truck and Opal crawled underneath to hide. Her heart was pounding out of her chest. Her breathing loud and rapid, she tried to settle it, so as not to be heard.

She heard the footsteps seeming to run past, and then they stopped. It was quiet. Excruciatingly quiet. Dead silence. Maybe just maybe they’re gone. It was then that Opal felt a hand grab her leg and it began to pull her from the back of the truck!

I’ve got you now. You are dead!! That was when Opal usually awakened with a near silent scream, one that bolted her from the bed in a sweat. Never seeing who wanted to hurt her. But… this time would be different. Opal was ready for a fight! She turned around and… Omigod!!! What the..?!! Agh! She awoke!

Chapter 2

It’s a Girl!

Months before the birth, Bobbette returned from the Air Force base in Cheyenne, Wyoming, to her hometown and her former home, in Chester, NH, to live once again with her own mother and father. She traveled by bus, with her ten month old baby, Michael. Bobbette’s husband David was serving in the Air Force, overseas in the Philippines currently. It was early spring in 1955.

She wrote letters weekly to David, but didn’t get many replies as he was busy about his military service in Guam. She looked forward to his return, feeling the need for him to be by her side now, but she knew in her heart that he wouldn’t make it home in time to wait with the mothers, while she was giving birth.

Bobbette was tired, as this pregnancy had been a bit risky from the beginning. David had been home on leave and she had gotten pregnant again so soon after Michael’s birth. She was trying to make the best of this unplanned pregnancy, but she was overwhelmed much of the time, and could certainly use her mother’s help now.

People riding on the bus were kind to Bobbette, noticing her growing belly and the squirming baby she held for most of the ride. This time of year, the weather was rainy and muddy and cast a grey cloud over Bobbette’s mood as well. She was very anxious to get back home and enjoy some much needed rest.

Family was there to greet her when she arrived back in Chester. Bobbette set up housekeeping in her old bedroom in her folk’s house. Her old hardwood crib, bassinet and a rocking chair completed the nursery half of the room. A bed topped with a handmade pastel quilt and a bureau which they would share, was in her half of the room. Michael, cherubic looking with his dark brown curly locks and deep blue turning brown eyes, was a handful most of the time, but with a happy chubby baby around… her old friends and neighbors were willing to come and help watch him.

Bobbette survived the last trimester of her pregnancy, busying herself with getting things ready for a new baby and chasing an already very busy just about one year old boy around the house. She secretly hoped for a girl, knitting more than two pairs of booties in a soft pink. Friends and family felt the same way, as one could see at her baby shower, when several more items in that same hopeful pink were opened.

The two grandmothers sat nervously wringing their hands beside one another in the tiny windowless waiting room. With every labor pain that was audible through the thin walls, one of the grandmothers would wince in pain and the other would clutch an embroidered hanky that she usually kept in her sleeve, to her heart, ready to dab her teary eyes.

Oh, that poor thing! How long is this going to take?! the soon to be Nana whined, as she scrinched her eyes again, and shook her head. The new Grammy touched Nana’s arm and comforted her.

You know dear, she’s done this before, when Michael was born. She’s strong. It’ll be soon, I can just tell.

Grammy had been a baby nurse in her youth, so she knew.

Sitting, wincing, standing, pacing, walking and rocking for what seemed like hours, the grandmothers continued their own form of labor until they heard a hand jiggle the knob on the door. The older ladies, mother and mother in law, breathed in but not out. The doctor himself appeared in the doorway. Both ladies stood, unable to speak.

Dr. Bryson smiled his crooked smile on an unshaven face and gave the women the news that they had been waiting to hear.

Now, ladies, I wanted to tell you myself. It’s a girl! Nana was so happy; she jumped up and kissed Dr. Bryson on his scruffy cheek. Then, she and Grammy squealed with delight, hugging and laughing, laughing and hugging, and took those crumpled hankies out again, wiping at their eyes, dripping with tears of joy.

Nearly bursting with excitement, they waited what seemed an appropriate amount of time ‘til they could beg a nurse to let them see their new granddaughter. The nurse crooked a finger, motioning them to follow and led them down the hallway to the nursery. They sighed as they peeked through the glass.

Inside a white bassinet, was the most precious little angel of a baby.

She is perfect whispered Nana, while Grammy laughed and asked,

Oh my land! Where did she get that red hair?!

The conversation bubbled:

Ohhh, look at her little fingers; I think she’ll play piano.

Who does she look like?

She is beautiful!

And, so this little 6lbs 13oz, 19 inches long, ginger haired cherub made her debut into the world. She was the first girl born into this family in years. No wonder all the excitement. Finally, someone who would wear pink and ruffles and bonnets!

Sleeping now, was proud, yet exhausted Mama. Already with her hands full with 14 month old Michael, she smiled when she had heard she had given birth to a girl. She wondered though, how she was going to do it all with little support from her husband. Even today, because of his military service he could not be here. She was too happy and tired to worry about that now. She would sleep and enjoy her rest on this special day.

Chapter 3

Chubby Cherub

Opal was a chubby happy baby. Rosy cheeks and red crew cut hair. She wasn’t always favored to wear pink or so her mother thought. The grandmothers made booties and sweaters in pastel greens, yellows and even snuck in a powder blue smocked dress. Everything had to be perfect for this little miss.

Precocious appeared to be the word to describe her. She talked early, fed herself and used her hands’ fine motor skills to pick up the tiniest items, although she walked a little later than most babies, maybe because her ankles were so thick, they rolled over her shoes, but roly poly babies back then were cherubic and just right. She was so chubby in fact that a family friend asked Mama if something was wrong, when Opal stood up in her crib and her ankles all but disappeared.

When she was only two years old, at all the family gatherings Opal was always encouraged to perform. They would coax her to sing, Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket, save it for a rainy day. Even as a toddler, anxious to please and capture hearts, Opal would stand in the middle of the room, sing her little song while she lifted the flounce of her smocked dress, showing off her ruffled panties and chubby knees, endearing her to her audience.

Bobbette was always busy chasing mischievous big brother Michael around, and when David came home on leave, he never left her alone long enough to get much sleep. Must’ve been so, because two more sisters came along real close together. Jeanie and Pauline. In four years, she had given birth to four kids. The last baby, Pauline was special. Bobbette knew that. She knew that she had to spend a lot of time with Pauline, so that she would be able to talk and do things like the rest of the kids. Opal got to be good at the age of three, at taking care of her younger sisters. She watched her mama, and tried to do it perfectly, just like she should. She was just like a little mother, helping and trying to please.

Opal’s daddy was home now and working in a local factory. They all lived in a nice house in a village close to the shop. Opal shared a bed with her two sisters for a while. That was kinda fun. All four kids would play on the bed, standing at the end, arms akimbo, and say I’m dying! I’m dying! letting themselves fall face forward onto the mattress. That usually brought one of the parents to the bottom of the stairs, asking What’re you kids doing up there?! Go to bed! She remembered a few times when her daddy would sort of tuck them in at night. There wasn’t a lot of affection shown in hugs and kisses, but it came in the form of a pillow game, where Daddy would grab the pillow by the sides while Michael’s, or Opal’s or Jeanie’s or Pauline’s head was on it, and pull it up and let it go. Everyone laughed, so it must have been great fun.

Each of the kids had some kind of behavior that they did to soothe themselves. Funny, they were all thumb suckers with unique rituals of comfort. Michael fingered the satin edge of the blanket. Opal comforted herself by sucking her thumb and twirling her hair. Jeanie could rub the fur off one of those stuffed bunnies or cats in no time. And Pauline had her thumb in her mouth and her index finger of the same hand, rubbing her upper lip back and forth, over and over. The other kids grew out of it, but Opal secretly kept it up for a long time. A very long time. She apparently needed a lot more comforting than the others. Sucking her thumb and twirling her hair took her to a calm place, where she relaxed and could drift off to sleep.

The childhood dream initially came to her, when Opal was very young and it was always the same. Always. And just as frightening each time.

Where did it come from? How can one so young have such a scary nightmare?! How does a little child even know the events pictured in her dreams?? How can a little kid dream of places they have never been and do things that they have never done? Oh, merely considering it constricts the breathing!

Bedtime didn’t appear to have any precluding factors. There’s not much to tell, really. There was that silly pillow game with her daddy. And, Opal slept in a big double bed with her two sisters. Pauline wet the bed once in a while, but that didn’t seem to faze Opal, except when the urine found her little portion of the sheets. Well, maybe there was something that could be disturbing: the noise. They heard the noise that was coming from downstairs. The yelling. The slamming. Maybe they heard the crying, but they didn’t talk about it, the children were much too young to know what was going on.

Most nights were defined like the one that would come to be. Thumb in her mouth, Opal would sleep. Her breathing would be slow and regular. All was quiet around her, save the other two girls who were breathing albeit nasally. Shhhh…

And then it would begin again, just like every other time! Opal would dream once more. There was neither beginning nor end to this singular nightmare. It seemed to start in the middle. She didn’t know how she got to the trees, nor did she get to the end of the dream, because she would always awaken, scared out of her young mind.

There was a forest full of eastern white pine trees, so tall it appeared that they almost touched the sky, and they were raised up high and loomed over Opal. The Haudenosee Indians called this tree, The Tree of Peace, but there was no peace in Opal’s heart when she was breaking free of her perpetrator and running a darkened path through these trees.

What frightened her? What was she fleeing from?! She didn’t know that answer, but she knew that she had to get away from it whatever it was now! She was compelled to run! And run fast! Opal ran and ran and ran and ran! One foot in front of the other, stumbling, getting back up and running as fast as she could go. Never turning! Always moving! She kept running until whatever was chasing her got so close as to be able to touch her. She was out of breath, her heart racing. And just when whatever it was, could touch her, she was unable to look for herself. Opal panicked and woke up! Her heart was beating so fast! She was even afraid to get out of bed to go and tell about her dream.

Her thumb was there, and her hair, however, to comfort her. Settled now with her thumb in her mouth. Opal’s heartbeat slowly returned to a normal rhythm and brought with it rest. Regular breathing commenced once more. Shhhhhh. It would be OK. The dream was over for now. Opal went back to sleep.

Chapter 4

Birthday with a B

Late spring was when Opal had her birthday. Four years old that year. Red hair in braids and freckles peppered across her nose. She had a gap toothed smile that just added to her Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm charm. She looked more like Opie on the Andy Griffith Show, though. Some folks took to calling her Opie, but she stood up tall with her hands on her hips, all dressed in her blue denim overalls, pink and white striped tee shirt and her Keds sneakers, the ones with the rubber toes, and let them know,

My name is Opal y’know. Opie is a boy’s name. Then, she’d go back to playing with Michael and Jeanie.

Michael was five years old and always into trouble. He was a pretty smart brother, though. He could figure out how to do almost anything. He would just make it up as he went along. Mostly, he got into trouble because he didn’t ask permission first. He just did stuff.

Today, Opal’s birthday was no different. A few other kids and the grandparents were coming over for a party later, so Bobbette sent all the kids outside to play. Michael found some old chipped beef jars that they used for juice glasses and some cardboard. He had figured out how to catch bees and he was going to teach them all.

First go out to the backyard and find the clover, those white and purple flowers, with the round shamrock leaves. That’s where the bees are. Don’t touch ‘em because they will sting you!

Jeanie and Opal nodded in agreement that at least they had been listening to this lesson.

Michael gave each of the girls their own glass and piece of cardboard. Once distributed the hunters went out to the backyard. Michael enjoyed being the leader of the girls. He stuttered some when he got nervous, but when he was telling them how to do this, he spoke just fine.

Now, look down by your feet. Be careful, that’s where the bees are. Once you find a bee, put the glass down over it and then slip the cardboard underneath. Hold it really tight to the glass like this, and the bee will be inside the glass.

Michael had not yet figured out what was to be done with the bees once they were caught, but they would be neat to look at before letting them go. Opal and Jeanie tried to walk carefully through the grass in the backyard, but at the ages of four and three, walking gently didn’t necessarily happen.

Here’s one, Michael! Opal called out.

Jeanie piped up I got one too!

Put the glass over the bee all the way to the ground, Michael replied, hurrying over to where the girls were.

Now, push the cardboard under the glass. Hold it tight!

Bobbette was busy getting things ready for Opal’s birthday party, so she was not really paying attention. Cripes! Jeanie was only three and playing with bees! She was young enough to not remember how to complete all the steps but she was curious, so she ran over to where Opal was catching her very own honeybee.

Opal pressed the glass down over the bee and at once, the worker drone became angry. It buzzed and flew angrily irritated around the inside of the glass.

Oh, Michael! It’s mad!

It’s OK, Opie! Put the cardboard underneath it!, and with that, Michael came over to watch his student.

Hey, I’m not Opie, I’m Opal! she chided, not paying close enough attention. The cardboard slipped and the angry honeybee flew out and lashed out its rage at Opal, stinging her on her hand.

Ouch!!!! Ow! Ow! Ow! Michael! It’s stinging me!

That mad as a wet hornet, honeybee by then had gathered up some supporters to show their anger at the attempted abductions. Opal was being stung by several bees! She jumped up and down screaming, while Michael and Jeanie ran into the house to tell their mama.

M-m-m-ama! Opal g-g-g-ot s-s-s-stung by a b-b-b-b-bee!! She’s in the b-b-b-back yard!

Oh, Michael was nervous and barely got the words out. Bobbette went running out to the back yard and found Opal rubbing and trying to shake out the itching pain in her hands. She was crying and dancing around some as well.

What on earth were you doing, trying to catch bees?!

"Michael