Smart Marcia
Mom was beautiful. She had thick, curly black hair, gorgeous blue eyes, long, thick black lashes, and a dazzling, electric smile. With a petite figure and shapely legs, Arlene wore her clothes with grace. And she had dresses. Pretty dresses. All the fashion that Dayton’s Department store could offer in the 50’s. I preferred the ones that cinched in at the waist and were secured with a crisp bow in the back, but over the course of my 10-year childhood, I was accustomed to Mom switching up her trig attire with loose, flowing garments. They were lovely too. No matter what she wore, I was proud when she would go meet my teacher at conference time. I knew I had the prettiest mom of anyone in my classroom.
My friend, Marcia, agreed with me. I would puff up with pride when she commented that my mother could be on the cover of a fashion magazine. Marcia’s house and our house had adjacent backyards. She would come over and swing on my swingset and tell me things I needed to know. I would listen to her. After all, she was two whole years older than I was and really, really smart. She knew things about the Phoenicians inventing the alphabet and how to draw a Venn diagram. She read books like The Hobbit and could use words like “stymied” correctly in a sentence. My mom had three smaller children to take care of and my dad was always working. So if I needed information, I would ask Marcia.
One day, while swinging in the backyard, Mom came out to offer us some Twinkies for a snack. Marcia stared. Mom was wearing the loveliest pink floral dress and it flowed out lustrously on this breezy summer afternoon.
After she went back inside, Marcia exclaimed, “Your mom is going to have a baby!”
“Oh, I don’t think so.” I answered, dumbfounded.
Still, she persisted. “Yes, she is. She’s going to have it any day now. I can tell.” Marcia smiled knowingly.
I was dubious despite being unsure as to how or why babies came into being. I knew it had something to do with love and kissing and boys and girls but that’s where my knowledge ended. I was a product of the 50’s and most parents back then didn’t think children needed to know things like that.
Shaken by this news, I darted into the house after Marcia went home. I confronted my Mother and asked her pointblank, “Are you going to have a baby?”
“Who TOLD you that?!?!” Mother indignantly exploded. Her eyebrows pushed together over squinted eyes and her flawless brow was furrowed in angry wrinkles.
“Marcia.”
“Well Marcia shouldn’t be talking about things like that to you.” And Mother harumphed out of the room without another word. I wasn’t too surprised. Mom was Norwegian and having information withheld was something I was used to by now.
“Well Marcia shouldn’t be talking about things like that to you.” And Mother harumphed out of the room without another word. I wasn’t too surprised. Mom was Norwegian and having information withheld was something I was used to by now.
But that settled it. Marcia didn’t know what she was talking about. Mom obviously was not having a baby. I now knew that Marcia didn’t know everything.
That night after supper, Mom was not feeling well and went to lie down. I brought her a glass of icewater. Did I make her sick with my impertinent questions?
Dad came home from work and checked on her. Then he announced hurriedly,
“I’m bringing your mother in to the doctor. You kids behave. Grandma’s coming over to stay with you.”
And they were gone. Oh no! Was Mom going to be all right?
The next morning, Dad greeted us jovially with the news of a baby. A little brother. What fun! We now had a boy at each end of our family.
But during all this baby excitement, I was in awe that Marcia had called it. She knew about the baby even before Mom. I couldn’t fathom how she could make such a prediction but she did, and she was correct. I was blown away by her acumen. The mystery remained unsolved until a certain health class I had in the fifth grade. Despite my subsequent enlightenment, I would always remember my friend as Smart Marcia.