Memoir Excerpt!

“Why of course it's not broken.” An Aunt answered.

I looked back at the children; they noticed my excitement. I sped outdoors and kicked off my sandals into a nearby manicured bush. I hopped up on the trampoline, jumped, fell and laughed, jumped, fell and laughed. Ten minutes later the kids joined me and we laughed. Then Joe came outside, “Sheila. Get down. You shouldn't be doing that. Get down now.” He pointed at the kids, “You three, your mother’s want you. Get inside now.”

Sweat rolled down my cheeks. I stood there.

“Where are your shoes?” Joe said, looking around.

“Somewhere in the bushes.” I answered.

Joe said, “We'll look for them later. My uncle wants to meet you. Let's go back inside and play a game of pool with him. You shouldn't have done this.”

“Why?” I asked. Joe turned and went inside.

I followed Joe downstairs, stopped first at the island to fill up, and his Aunt’s and mother watched us. I proceeded gingerly, considering my double vision and balancing my occupied right hand and body. I shifted my chin and was struck. Here was an aged Clark Kent chalking his pool cue. I wanted to be chalked too, I smiled. “So,” he said in a voice ten times deeper than Joe's, “I saw you hurling your body in the air, having a riot it appears.” I beamed, “Yes!”

I forgot Joe was there.

Ten minutes later, the pool game was boring, my glass, dry. Joe and his Uncle tediously discussed stocks and bonds. I looked at my feet, without shoes and in black tights, black shorts. I laughed. Clark Kent, “Will you play this next game with us?” Without answering, I got a pool cue, easily kicked my right leg on the table, and aimed for the pool ball underneath a raised knee. I was close but missed.

I looked at Clark Kent and said, “Oh, that's not all I can do, watch.”

Joe grabbed my wrist and didn't talk on the way home. The following week he told me I should look for somewhere else to live. It's really hard to find comfortable shoes. That's my biggest regret.