Giving up Vivian and Dale II, part four

Leta walked ahead, carrying two of the suitcases. Her children Vivian (age 15) and Dale (age 12), each carrying another bag, followed. Her arms ached the two blocks to the streetcar. She could have done this better, she thought. She could have taken her children to their father’s for the weekend, and then told them that their weekend would be extended indefinitely. Or she could have had their father pick them up directly from school, having already acquired their luggage from their house.

But what would he tell her children? That she was abandoning them? That she was incapable of taking care of them? That she no longer cared about them? Their father Ralph could and might say anything! After all, there was little respect between the parents. When she had taken the children and left years earlier, she had scarred him, and more than once over the ensuing years, he expressed his anger and disappointment.

During her subsequent marriage to Albert Mohr, she provided a warm and loving home for the children, with a positive male role model who also paid attention to them. This was something that their father had not done. But then Albert died suddenly, and Leta and her children’s lives had been a whirlwind of uncertainty ever since. Meanwhile, their father had risen in his station. After years of hardly working, he had secured stable employment with the post office. At age 36, he still lived with his parents, but they had a large house, and it was unlikely that this arrangement would change. Living with him would ensure that her children would be fed and clothed and have their physical needs met. This, unfortunately, was something that she could no longer provide.

The streetcar arrived almost immediately after they reached the stop, and the conductor assisted them in their boarding.

“Someone’s heading on a little trip, I see,” the charming young man said with a wink. Their ashen faces quickly told him that he was out of order.

It was only a few stops to their destination, so Leta tried to make best use of these few precious minutes.

“Now, remember what I told you,” she said. “I want you to behave for Grandma Ida, to eat what she gives you without complaining, be polite and help her and Grandpa Louis around the house. Do your schoolwork and keep your rooms clean.”

“Yes, Ma,” Vivian said dutifully but absently.

“Dale?” Leta pressed.

“Yes, Ma,” he squeaked.

“They are looking forward to having you,” Leta added. “I’ve packed enough clothes to last you for a few days, but will send over the rest of your things before too long.”

There was silence.

“It’s just that your ma needs to figure some things out, and she wants the best for you,” Leta finally said. Neither child looked at her. Dale was looking into his jacket and biting his lip. Vivian was staring out the window.

Leta wanted to be cheerful for them. She wanted to be more reassuring, but her own heart was aching. It took all of her strength to keep a smooth even voice.

“We’re here,” Vivian said, and the three rose.

As the trolley car stopped, she could see her former husband Ralph and his mother waiting at the stop. Their unexpected appearance was startling and seemed so final. Her plan was to avoid both of them, to walk the children to the house and leave them on the porch. The conductor handed Ralph the bags, and the children off-boarded from the trolley without a word. Ida took a hand of each child. She was always a serious woman, but under the circumstance, she looked downright grim. Then without a flicker of acknowledgment, Ida turned the children away, and began walking. Ralph followed.

Leta clutched one of the poles of the streetcar. Did Dale try to turn back? For a moment, she thought so. Then the trolley lurched forward, and her children disappeared. She would not see them again for several months.