Are You There, God? It's Me, Margaret

Florida! And then I had plenty to say. Plenty!

'I don't want to see them,' I shouted. 'It isn't fair! I want to go to Florida and stay with Grandma. Daddy- please!'

'Don't look at me,' my father said quietly. 'It's not my fault. I didn't send them a Christmas card.'

'Mom!' I cried. 'You can't do this to me. You can't! It's not fair-it's not!' I hated my mother. I really did. She was so stupid. What did she have to go and send them a dumb old card for!

'Come on, Margaret. It's not the end of the world,' my mother said, putting her arm around me. 'You'll go to Florida another time.'

I wriggled away from her as my father said, 'Somebody better call Sylvia and tell her the change in plans.'

'I'll put the call through and Margaret can tell her now,' my mother said.

'Oh no!' I shouted. 'You tell her. It's not my idea!'

'All right,' my mother said quietly. 'All right, I will.'

I followed my parents into their bedroom. My mother picked up the phone and placed a person-to-person call to Grandma at her hotel. After a few minutes she said, 'Hello, Sylvia… It's Barbara… Nothing's wrong… Everything's fine… Yes, really… Of course I'm sure… It's just that Margaret won't be able to visit you after all… Of course she's here… she's standing right next to me… Yes, you can talk to her-'

My mother held the phone out toward me. But I shook my head and refused to take it. So she covered the mouthpiece and whispered, 'Grandma thinks you're sick. You've got to tell her you're all right.'

I took the phone. 'Grandma,' I said, 'it's Margaret.'

I heard Grandma catch her breath.

'Nothing's wrong, Grandma… No, I'm not sick… Nobody's sick… Of course I'm sure… But I do want to come, Grandma. I just can't.' I felt the tears in my eyes. My throat hurt when I swallowed. My mother motioned for me to tell Grandma the rest of the story. 'I can't come to Florida because we're having company that week.' Now my voice sounded very high and squeaky.

Grandma asked me, what company?

'My other grandparents,' I said. 'You know, Mom's mother and father… Nobody invited them exactly… but Mom sent them a Christmas card with our new address and now we got a letter saying they're coming and they want to see me… Well, I know you want to see me too. And I want to see you but Mom won't let me… ''

Then I started to cry for real and my mother took the phone.

'We're all sorry, Sylvia. It's just one of those things. Margaret understands. I hope you do too. Thank you, Sylvia. I knew you would… Yes, Herb's fine. I'll put him on. Just a minute.' I ran upstairs while my father said, 'Hello, mother.'

Are you there God? It's me, Margaret. I'm so miserable! Everything is wrong. Absolutely everything! I guess this is my punishment for being a horrible person. I guess you think it's only fair for me to suffer after what I did to Laura. Isn't that right God? But I've always tried to do what you wanted. Really, I have. Please don't let them come God. Make something happen so I can go to Florida anyway. Please…

21

That week my mother went crazy cleaning the house, while I waited for something to happen. I thought it would be a telegram saying they weren't able to come after all. I was sure God only wanted to punish me for a little while. Not for the whole spring vacation.

'Cheer up, Margaret,' my mother said over dinner. 'Things are never as bad as they seem.'

'How can you be glad they're coming?' I asked. 'After all those stories you've told me about them- how?'

'I want to show them how well I've managed for fourteen years without their help. And I want them to see my wonderful family.'

My father said, 'You can't expect Margaret to be overjoyed when her plans have been changed at the last minute.'

'Look, Herb,' my mother said. 'I haven't forgiven my parents. You know that. I never will. But they're coming. I can't say no. Try to understand… both of you… please.'

My mother hadn't ever asked me to do that before. Usually it was me asking her to try to understand.

My father kissed her on the cheek as she cleared away the dishes. He promised to make the best of it. I promised too. My mother kissed us both and said she had the best family in the world.

On April fifth my mother and I drove to Newark Airport to meet them. My father didn't come. He thought it would be better if he stayed at home and greeted them there.

All the way to the airport my mother briefed me. 'Margaret, I'm not trying to make excuses for my mother and father. But I want you to know that your grandparents have their beliefs too. And fourteen years ago… well… they did what they thought was right. Even though we know it was cruel. Their beliefs were that important to them. Am I making any sense to you?'

'Some,' I said.

When they announced the arrival of flight #894 from Toledo I followed my mother to the gate. I knew it was them right away. I knew it by the way they walked down the airplane stairs, clutching each other. And when they got closer I knew it by my grandmother's shoes-black with laces and fat heels-old lady shoes. My grandfather had white hair around the edges and none on top. He was shorter and fatter than my grandmother.

They looked around a bit before my mother called out, 'Here we are-over here.'

They walked toward us, growing more excited as they recognized my mother. She gave each of them a short hug. I just stood there feeling dumb until my grandmother said, 'And this must be Margaret Ann.' When she said it I noticed the cross around her neck. It was the biggest one I ever saw. And it sparkled!

I didn't want them to touch me. And maybe they could tell, because when my grandmother bent over, as if to kiss me, I stiffened. I didn't mean to. It just happened.

I think my mother knew how I felt because she told them we'd better see about the luggage.

When we got home my father met us at our front door and carried in their suitcases. They had two of them. Both brown and both new.

'Hello, Herb,' my grandmother said.

'Hello, Mrs. Hutchins,' my father answered.

I thought how funny it was for my father to call her 'Mrs.'

My grandfather shook hands with my father. 'You're looking well, Herb,' he said.

My father pressed his lips together but finally managed to say, 'Thank you.'

I thought, this is harder on my father than it is on me!

My mother and I showed my grandparents to their room. Then my mother went down to see about dinner. I said, 'If there's anything you need, just ask me.

'Thank you, Margaret Ann,' my grandmother said. She had a funny way of scrunching up her mouth.

'You don't have to call me Margaret Ann,' I said. 'Nobody does. Just Margaret is fine.'

My mother really made a fancy dinner. The kind she has when she's entertaining friends and I'm sent to bed early. We had flowers on the table and a hired lady to wash the dishes.

My mother changed into a new dress and her hair looked nice too. She didn't look like her parents at all. My grandmother changed her dress too, but she still had the cross around her neck.

At dinner we all tried hard to have a conversation. My mother and my grandmother talked about old friends from Ohio and who was doing what these days. My grandfather said mostly, 'Please pass the butter… please pass the salt.'

Naturally I used my best possible manners. In the middle of the roast beef course my grandfather knocked over his water glass and my grandmother gave him a sharp look, but my mother said water couldn't possible hurt