CURTAINS IN THE MOONLIGHT

Why don’t Margaret and Jenny both stay all night with Amy Lou tonight?” suggested Aunt Florence to Mother. It was Saturday night and they were talking in front of the grocery store.

Mother looked at Jenny. “Want to?” she asked.

Jenny had never stayed all night away from home anywhere before without her parents. She had done lots of important things lately though, and next week she would start to school.

“I’ll stay if Margaret doesn’t stay too. Just me,” was Jenny’s reply. If Margaret stayed, she would be telling Jenny what to do all the time, and then she and Amy Lou would probably run off and hide from Jenny as they had done many times before. Jenny also wanted to prove that she could be away from the family for a night.

It was agreed that just Jenny was to stay all night with Amy Lou. Perhaps the idea of having Jenny out from underfoot for a change appealed to Margaret, as she did not protest.

They all stopped at Aunt Florence and Uncle Harry’s for a few minutes. It was a small brown house with bright flowered linoleum in that same Toonerville section of town which they had often driven through on the way to Sunday School. The bare light bulbs made the rooms seem harsh. They had recently gotten electricity. The house had a foreign smell. Jenny had an empty sort of feeling as she said good bye to Mother and Daddy and Margaret and heard them drive away.

Soon Aunt Florence said it was time for bed. Jenny took off all her clothing except her cotton underskirt. She went to bed beside Amy Lou on a narrow cot in he living room. Aunt Florence turned off the lights and Jenny felt very big and important as she and Amy Lou talked in loud whispers. Before long Amy Lou was silent.

“Amy Lou,” Jenny began, but there was no answer. Amy Lou was fast asleep. Jenny could tell by the way she was breathing. Jenny laid there with her eyes wide open. She felt very strange and very small now. She could hear Uncle Harry snoring in the next room. The sound of cars and trucks on the streets was an unfamiliar disturbance. A faint breeze made the curtains billow out over the bed. A patch of moonlight fell on the window sill, touching the curtains with silver. Jenny thought of the red and white dotted curtains in the bedroom at home and of Mother and Daddy and Margaret.

A big tear ran down her cheek. She could hear a train chug chugging along as it went through town. Its mournful whistle matched her feelings. At last she could bear the loneliness no longer. She tiptoed in to where Aunt Florence and Uncle Harry were sleeping.

“Aunt Florence,” she said, in a choked up little voice. Aunt Florence gave a little jump and said, “What’s the matter?”

“Could I please have a drink of water?”

“Are you still awake? Land sakes, its almost ‘leven o’clock. Come on, let’s get that drink.”

Jenny hadn’t really been thirsty, but it was reassuring to hear the sound of someone’s voice. Jenny went back to the cot beside Amy Lou. She laid first on one side and then another; she tried sleeping on her back, and on her stomach too. She didn’t like the high firm pillow. She longed for the little soft one she slept on at home. After what seemed to be a very long time, she fell asleep.

They awoke in the morning to the sound of Amy Lou’s little brother crying. Aunt Florence had their breakfast ready. She opened up a can of milk and poured it into a pitcher. Jenny put some on her cereal and almost threw up when she tasted it. She ate a piece of bread and butter instead.

“Let’s go out and play,” said Amy Lou, and they went out to the back yard and took turns pushing each other in the tire swing. The also played with Amy Lou’s doll, but it wasn’t interesting, like playing dolls with Margaret always was.

“Oh Jenny!” Aunt Florence called, “There’s somebody here to see you.”

Jenny ran out the front door that led to the street. There was Daddy in the car. He looked very good to her. She looked at at him closely and was glad to observe that he looked the same as always. She wondered if she looked any different. This must be Sunday morning.

“How’d you get along, Sis?” Daddy asked.

“Just fine,” Jenny told him. “I had a good time.”

Jenny could hardly wait to get home to see Mother and Margaret and to be in her own home.
She decided that she would never tell anyone about the lonesome train whistle in the night, or about the curtains, blown by the breeze, looking so strange and silver in the moonlight.