Free Tea Cups & Tiger Claws by Timothy Patrick Page B

had one of those pure, translucent faces that ’s interesting to look at because of its constant fine flush that forever ebbs and flows; redness is easily drawn in by exertion and just as easily pushed back by a moment’s reflection, or by laughter, such as now, when he laughed at Dorthea. He didn’t try to hide it. And he didn’t say “hello,” or extend his hand, or even nod. He just laughed, and stared, along with Judith and Abbey.
    “What do you think Billy?” said Judith. “Do we look like identical triplets?”
    Billy Stepped back and rubbed his chin like a wise man.
    “ Try not to look at her shoes…or the dress…or the hair….”
    Dorthea threw down her arms and broke free from her sisters.
    “Don’t mind her, Dorthea,” said Abbey. “She says stuff like that sometimes. It’s just her way of having fun.”
    Dorthea faced Judith and said, “You can laugh now if you like, but I’ll be laughing for weeks because I saw you down there prattling like a hen, begging him to kiss you.”
    First Abbey giggled, then Billy, and then even Judith.
    People who look ridiculous sound ridiculous and Dorthea looked ridiculous, but she didn’t know what else to say or do, next to scratching out Judith’s eyes, which seemed too tempting to even think about. She lifted her head, pointed it forward, and started marching up and out of the clearing.
    “Wait,” said Abbey. “Will you take this to remember us? It’s got your name on it. You might as well.”
    The placard. She’d forgotten about it. She had no words for her sisters and never would again. She had black oaths. And she had no eyes. From this day forward, her eyes would be foul pools to them, oil sheened, showing nothing but glare. And nothing could change it, nothing in the world…except knowing about that placard. She turned and saw Abbey holding it out to her. “Why is my name on it?” she asked evenly.
    “Because mother always dreamed about getting the famous identical triplets back together,” said Abbey, “even if only for an afternoon. She had these built—back when we were just little girls—and planned a birthday party for all three of us. But you didn’t come….She sent an invitation but you didn’t come….”
    “I guess you had more important things to do down at Yucky D,” said Judith.
    Abbey gave Judith a pained look but didn’t say anything. Instead, she turned back to Dorthea and said, “But mother didn’t give up. And neither did I. Every year she had the houses painted and every year I wrote the invitation. The houses still get painted but I stopped sending the invitations a while ago.”
    And then they all stared at each other until Dorthea looked at the placard and said, “I don’t want it. You can keep it.” She started to turn.
    “Wait!” blurted Abbey. “Please wait. I told you about the playhouse. I need you to tell me something too.”
    Dorthea didn’t say anything , but she didn’t leave either.
    “Tell me about our father.”
    “Abbey! Don’t be stupid!” said Judith.
    Dorthea started to laugh until she saw the desperation on Abbey’s face and the embarrassment on Judith’s. It didn’t amount to much, but at least now she had something on them, a little stick, a little knuckle whacker. “What do you want to know?” she asked.
    “Is he nice? Does he do nice things for you?”
    “Of course. He’s my father ain’t he.”
    “Tell me what he does for you.”
    “ Uh…he fed the ducks with me down in the wash.” This didn’t impress anyone, not even Abbey. She needed to dress things up a bit. “And he brings me a ribbon every pay day….I have over thirty of them.” Abbey smiled.
    “You should tell him to bring you some new dresses instead.”
    “Shut up Judith!”
    Judith looked surprised by Abbey’s outburst, and so did Billy.
    “What else?” said Abbey.
    “Sometimes he tries to teach me the waltz but he steps on my toes and we fall down and laugh.”
    Abbey smiled some