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Dysfunction Junction

By Robin W. Pearson

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“WHAT TIME IS IT?” Annabelle’s voice quavered as she studied the shadows huddling under the sliding board in Lincoln Park. She expected the streetlight at the corner to come on at any minute, and she didn’t think her four-year-old legs could outrun those mis- shapen silhouettes if they had a mind to chase her. They were in spitting distance of home, but her fear made it feel much farther.

Apparently unperturbed, Frances Mae peeled off the paper from her second block of Hubba Bubba and popped it onto her tongue. Her teeth worked at the gum until she could chew more easily. When she opened her mouth to speak, she wiped a bit of spit from the edge of her lip. “Mama’s not expectin’ us any time soon. She likes time to herself after she closes the store.”

They both knew their mama wasn’t going to be alone for long. But at that moment, all Annabelle could think about was that she didn’t like being outside at this time of day. On top of that, she was hungry, and the overpowering scent of strawberries wafting from Frankie’s mouth wasn’t helping a bit.

Their mama had shooed them out of the house two hours ago with strict instructions not to come back until not one, but all the lamps standing guard around the playground were brightly lit. Annabelle peered up at the sky that had started out a pale blue but had transitioned to streaks of purple and gray. Birds flapped across the horizon and disappeared, as if they, too, knew it was time to go somewhere cozy and settle down for the night. Her eyes welled. “It’s gonna be dawk soon.”

“No, it’s not. Besides, Mama’s friend said if we listen, he’ll get her to give us some more candy next time he comes over.” Frances Mae used her index finger and thumb to pinch the end of her gum. She extended her arm as far as it could go while her teeth clamped onto the other end of the sticky treat their new friend had given her.

Annabelle scratched the inside of her elbow and watched her sister twirl and stretch her gum this way and that with her dirt- smudged fingers, mindless of the mosquitoes and gnats flying about.

Annabelle didn’t want another piece of Hubba Bubba or a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup, even though she loved licking at the chocolate until she worked her way to the middle. Besides, wrapped or not, those miniature bricks Frankie had stuffed into her cheeks looked like they’d been gathering dust by the register in Mama’s store more days than Annabelle could count with both her small hands.

All the treats from McNair’s were either leftovers or stale. Her sister should know that as well as Annabelle did. But no, Frances Mae scarfed down all those soft crackers and chewy potato chips like they tasted better than the hamburgers and fries from McDonald’s. Mama smiled and carried on like her new man had done something, making them shake his hand and say thank you.

Shoot, Annabelle didn’t want any part of that gum.

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