First Day

She sat in his still dark room watching him sleep, his blonde curls, newly cut, fell across his eyes. His round cheeks remained pink even in sleep and his little ski-slope nose turned upwards just like hers. His coloring, his features, even the way he slept, sprawled across the entire bed , were all her. But his body, solid and muscular, even at five was all his dad’s. Tears streamed down her face as she inhaled the last few moments of this cocoon that had enveloped her, Joey, and her husband Derrick. She had resisted the inevitable, but it had come. The red alarm clock with the fireman’s hat on top startled the air with a jarring ring and bounced up and down, announcing that it was time to get up.

Sandy laughed at herself as she wiped the tears away and turned off the alarm, hoping that her quick reaction would prolong the quiet of the moment and her reverie a little longer.

“I am so ridiculous,” she thought; “ it is only kindergarten. What is wrong with me? This is no big deal.” But she knew it was—more so since her oldest friend called reminding her of how dangerous this world can be—how vulnerable we all are.

“Turn on the TV,” her friend said on the phone. “ it’s happening at the Garlic Festival now . Seems so personal like it is happening to us, so close to our old home.”

Turning on the TV, she saw a small body covered by a yellow plastic tarp. She turned away as she heard the newscaster announce three dead, twelve wounded, one a 6 year old boy at a mass shooting at the Gilroy Garlic Festival. She had grown up in the condominiums across the street from the high school and the park where the festival was held. They spent every day at the Garlic Festival, walking over in the mornings and staying till closing each night. The only way to tolerate the crowds was to become part of them. It was a ritual marking the end of summer and the return to school. At first, when she was younger, she had gone with her parents, but in her teenage years, it had become a place to hang out with her friends, to party, and listen to music while basking in the sun. She remembered slipping into the woods surrounding the booths and stages and getting high; she remembered the warm still air and the melding of the sounds of the crowds and the distant music. Sometimes one of her friends would sneak in alcohol and they would sit in the duff under the trees, hidden by the forest and drink and smoke and laugh, feeling invisible. She remembered her first kiss ever under those trees. Though they had moved to Sacramento they had ventured back to the Garlic Festival with Joey just last year. She watched him play and dance to the music and eat roasted corn on the cob. It felt safe, like home.

On the TV the images of masses of people running in every direction made it impossible for her to put out of her mind the terror people must have felt, how she would have felt as she scooped up her precious son and ran through the crowds trying to escape the bullets, watching people fall around her…how she would have felt if that dead boy had been hers. The gunman had shattered her memories of Gilroy and the Garlic Festival, but crazed shooters at schools and Malls and theaters had already destroyed her belief that she or her family were invincible. How could she feel her son was safe to go anywhere, let alone school , by himself, away from her protection.

“Mama, is it time to go to school? Why is it so dark? Mama, do I go to school in the night?”

“No but you have to get up in the dark while the sun is trying to rise, just like you. Here let’s cuddle just for a minute before you get up,” she whispered as she slipped into bed and held him tight, remembering his tiny baby body and his smell turned little boy waking up now.

“I am going to wear my Batman suit today, Mama.” He loved to wear his costumes and had acquired two chests full of them over the last few years. He had dress-up outfits for every occasion…Spiderman, the Hulk, Iron man, fireman, hip hop dancer, pilot, scientist, construction worker, chef, policeman. In fact he often refused to wear regular clothes and she hadn’t fought him on it…what did it matter. He was a very imaginative child and she loved that about him.

“No, we talked about that Joey. Today you are going to wear your first day of school clothes that we picked out at the store. Remember?”

“No, I want to wear my Batman suit today.” he pouted as he sat up in bed. The rising light was beginning to fill the room and she could see his determination in the tightness of his jaw and his arms crossing his chest. She slipped out of bed and lifted the white polo shirt dotted with small superhero characters flying through the air and his blue shorts which she had laid out the night before.

“This is what you are going to wear today, Joey. These are going to school clothes. But I have a very special cape that you are going to wear today, too,” She laid down the shirt and shorts and opened a dresser drawer. She rifled through it for a moment and then turned around holding her two arms before her with space tor a cape between them. “It’s an invisible cape to make you strong and powerful.”

Laughter came from the bedroom door. Derrick, bare chested, dressed only in his pajama bottoms, was leaning on the door jam, a smile on his face. He still took her breath away sometimes. His wild curly black hair enveloped his sleep swollen face.

“Best cape ever,” Derrick chuckled

“Daddy, its my first day of school,” Joey bounded out of bed and jumped into his father’s awaiting arms.

“I know, now time to get dressed.”

Sandy handed the first day of school clothes to Derrick and together they helped Joey dress. It wasn’t necessary anymore, but it seemed important to them today. They were good at distracting Joey and redirecting him when he got stubborn. She hoped his teachers would do the same without breaking his spirit and self-confidence.

“Now for the cloak.”

Motherhood had changed Sandy. As a child and in her adolescence and young adult life she liked to push all limits; she was a risk taker. If there was a tree to climb, a mountain to conquer, a cliff to dive from, she would find it. She loved to run into the ocean and learned early how to save herself in heavy currents. She loved speeding and was a fan of the fastest and scariest rides at amusement parks. Her dad was a drinker and smoker and spent much of his time unavailable to her while her mother worked double shifts to compensate for the series of lay offs and dismissals that drinking on the job caused for him. During her teenage years, he was fired for driving a company truck under the influence and never returned to work, spending much of his time drinking, passed out by 3. Initially, as a teenager, she refused to drink or party because she knew what it did to him, but the friends she attracted with her bright care-free spirit, her beautiful long blonde hair and blue eyes, and easy laughter, lived a little on the wild side. School was easy for her and sometimes she helped them study, write papers, and take exams. Also she thought she could save them if they were in trouble at school or were drinking too much or had gotten into heavier drugs. She was the straight one, the one who could keep them safe, the one who could change them, though she couldn’t change her dad. Her mom tried to support Sandy, but she wasn’t around much and was in denial about what was happening to her daughter. Somewhere around 17, Sandy stopped being the one who rescued them and joined them, spiraling rapidly into addiction as it was in her genes and there was no one to save her.

Sandy always says that an accident saved her. She tells the story that in her early twenties she was lucky and had an accident that didn’t kill her or anyone else. She was under the influence and was arrested that night, spent a week in jail and then two months in a treatment program. She and Derrick met there, fell in love and started the long journey of recovery together. Though it was less than ten years ago, it is hard for her to remember that young, reckless, woman as now she is wracked with fear, especially for her son, sometimes her husband, and sometimes herself. She meditates to keep anxiety in abeyance, avoiding any drugs, fearing they will lead her back to addiction. One day at a time has been her mantra and this day is a hard day. “I wonder if all parents are this anxious on the first day of school or is it just me?,” she says to herself. Even now, on a day like this, she contemplates how soothing a drink might be.

Sandy and Derrick didn’t send Joey to preschool because when he was three his cousin Jimmy shared a peanut butter sandwich with him. He loved it and devoured it quickly. A few minutes later he was coughing, wheezing, and struggling to breathe. Sandy remembers little Jimmy pulling on her sleeve, “Aunt Sandy, Joey is sick.” And she remembers seeing her baby, sprawled on the ground, already turning blue. The EMTs arrived while she was doing the Heimlich maneuver and CPR on him. They knew right away that it was anaphylactic shock and saved him. The terror of that moment still paralyzes her. A severe nut allergy, the doctors proclaimed and proceeded to equip them with all the tools and strategies required to protect their son—an epi pen and precautions such as avoiding any kind of nuts, not even food contaminated by nuts, reading all labels, being cautious of other things that could be allergens that cause life threatening symptoms—shellfish, bees, the world in Sandy’s mind. It took Derrick and Sandy two years to let Joey go anywhere without them. They contemplated home schooling but they both needed to work and they knew that he needed socialization and the company of other children. They didn’t want to isolate him. And so they decided to enroll him in kindergarten. They met with the principal and Joey’s to be teacher and discussed the extreme nature of his nut allergy and the precautions that were necessary. They would try and the day had come.

Both Sandy and Derrick had taken the morning off to take their son to his first day of kindergarten. He had trouble sitting still in the car and opened and shut his Spiderman lunch box, counting all the goodies he would get to eat that day.

“What do you think I will do today at school?”

“I am guessing you will meet lots of children and play games and sing and read books. I am not sure what else your teacher has in store for you. You’ll stay for lunch and recess and then dad will pick you up. I have to work this afternoon.”

“I will miss you Mama and Papa.”

“We will miss you too, Joey.

“Be brave,” Joey murmured to himself as he unbuckled his seat belt and got out of his car seat.

They each held a hand as he walked or hopped up the steps to his school. His blonde curls combed back and his blue eyes sparkling made him look older than he was.

“Swing me,” he said at the top of the steps.” And they did.

They looked for his classroom and saw all the other children and their parents hovering near the door. Sandy noticed that they looked happy and sad at the same time. Some of the children were even crying and some of the parent’s faces looked a little red and swollen. On the door she noticed a big yellow sign that said, “Nut free zone” and she took a deep breath. “They are paying attention,” she thought to herself.

She pulled Joey aside and hugged him tightly. “Let me make sure your cape is on right,” she whispered in his ear. “Have a wonderful day.”

The door opened and the teacher, a brilliant smile on her face, greeted them all. One at a time the parents introduced themselves and their child as the teacher deftly made a name tag for each child, pinning it on their clothes and welcoming them into the classroom. “Now go sit down in the circle. Ms Ames will show you where to sit.” Sandy heard her say it many times and she watched as the parents turned and walked away. And then it was Joey’s turn. She felt his hand tightening on hers. He looked up at her with his big blue eyes and she smiled down. “This is Joey.” And then she let him go.