Arriving, Frankie jumped out of the car and ran into the house. I could hear his mother call but he had already taken the stairs two at a time to reach the second floor where he strode down the hallway to his room. He entered and shut the door. I assumed he was going to ready for bed. Instead, he grabbed the phone on his night stand and made a call. I could barely hear a female voice answer as Frankie quickly explained that he had the next day off work and did she want to come to the Crossroads Flea Market with him. She giggled at his invitation, but indeed, accepted. The young lad was beside himself and they made plans to meet at the mall in the morning and leave from there. After he hung up he put on his headphones and dozed off. I followed suit and fell fast asleep. It had been an eventful day.
****
Bright and early I heard the house waking up as the aroma of coffee filled the air. Frankie’s mother knocked softly on his door and asked him if he wanted eggs and bacon for breakfast. Moaning an undeterminable response, his mother also reminded him that he was supposed to go to the flea market with Savannah. That got his motor running as he sat straight up in bed shaking the sleep from behind his eyes. Realizing he’d slept in his clothes he got off the bed and threw his clothes, including the jeans I was in, on the floor. I could hear him searching his dresser and closet for something to wear. Sounding frustrated, he called out to him mother to ask about the whereabouts of his favorite pair of Lees. It wasn’t possible to discern what she said but he seemed to be thrilled to discover them. Then he walked into the bathroom for a shower.
After which, he picked up the jeans I was in and pulled out his wallet and a wad of bills from the front pocket. I was in the wad of bills. He counted out about half and shoved them in his wallet, leaving me and a small stack of my peers on his dresser. “Oh, no! I want to go to the flea market!” I shouted. Of course, he couldn’t have known that as I watched him exit through his bedroom door. Only to return a few minutes later and grab the rest of us off the dresser. Whew! I must say I appreciated his change of heart; I was going to the flea market after all.
Frankie lived close to the mall where he had agreed to meet Savannah, and planned on walking that morning. His father asked him if he wanted a ride, but he declined saying he’d walk. It was a brisk morning, evidently it had rained the night before and even I could feel the dampness in the air. The neighborhood he lived in was quiet; therefore, as the morning traffic increased I ascertained we were approaching our destination. He must have reached a major intersection because I felt him stop, then sprint across the road. On the other side a horn honked and he was off in that direction. Either the flea market was a distance to drive, or these two teenagers wanted to get an early start. “Hey, have you been waiting long?” he asked as he climbed in the passenger side.
“I just got here and saw you running across Elm Street,” she spoke with a giggle. “Josh and Tami are going to be at Mickey D’s at eight. Not sure if Terry and Dallas are coming. Did you ask Mike if he was coming?” Savannah said in one breath filling him in on the details of who was coming. Wasn’t sure why a group of teenagers wanted to hang out at a flea market, but I was about to find out.
“Nah, had to close. Didn’t get a chance to talk to anyone…except you,” Frankie replied as Savannah giggled. “Could sure use a huge cup of wake-me-up juice though; I know that!” he said rather comically as she giggled even more at his antics. The rest of the drive was filled with banter about their activities of yesterday, their plans for the rest of today, and when they had to be home. Savannah had her mom’s car and had to be home by two o’clock.
“Can’t you call her and tell her you’ll be late,” Frankie was protesting.
“I can’t, I promised. I’m sorry; I know it screws up plans. But maybe she can bring me back and I can catch a ride home with Josh and Tami,” Savannah explained.
“Yeah, maybe…” Frankie said his voice trailing off. We must have arrived that the McDonald’s, Mickey D, as the teenagers called it because Frankie was putting down the window to yell at someone.
“Hey ugly, they gonna let you in here!”
“Only after the retarded enter. After you dragon breath,” his friend retorted as Frankie climbed out of Savannah’s mother’s car. Dragon breath...really? Did teenagers speak to each other this way? This would certainly be an interesting bit of servitude as I am bound by my existence.
Everyone was talking at once as Josh and Tami led the way into the restaurant. After ordering enough for six, everyone sat in a booth to devour their morning staples before the start of what would prove to be, I was confident, a stimulating day. As I inhaled deeply the aroma of an egg and bacon McMuffin and Hash Browns, my mouth watered for a taste of Cinnamon Melts, I could only imagine, dripping with sugary icing.
Catching only bits and pieces of conversation, because all four teenagers talked at once, I believe, Savannah asked Frankie for a packet of ketchup, while Josh tried to sneak a bite of Tami’s Cinnamon Melt to which she dramatized a major protest. I have to admit, even with all the talking over each other the excitement about the day was building. Clearly, I was feeling quite exhilarated myself and it was only breakfast.
After leaving McDonalds on the way to the flea market I learned about the arcade where they were going to meet another group of friends. Evidently, they were expecting to be meeting a larger group. Explains their excitement, since teenagers seem to come and go in packs. There is the occasional loner, but for the most part, teens are very social beings. Egads! How would I discern the conversations of over a dozen of them talking at once? There was enough difficulty with only four.
****
Upon arriving at the flea market, Josh, who was driving spent some time maneuvering through the gravel parking lot before finding a spot a short walking distance to the arcade. Everyone seemed to get out of the car at once as soon as it stopped. The endless talking all at once showed no sign of ending until Josh hollered, “There’s Billy. Hey, Billy!”
“Come on you turtles, let’s catch up to them,” he called out to the others as it appeared he had taken off in the direction of their friends.
“Wait for meeee…,” Tami called after him as I heard her footfalls running in his direction.
“In a hurry?” Frankie asked Savannah.
“Not really,” she replied.
“Then come on,” he said laughing and grabbing her hand to tug her in the direction of the arcade.
“Hey,” she said giggling as she came up beside him matching his gait.
“Where is everyone else?” a boy spoke that I couldn’t yet identify. It must have been Billy.
“Probably inside already,” Frankie answered. “We grabbed breakfast; they were just gonna meet us. They’re probably at the pin balls.”
As everyone walked through the arcade door suddenly, the atmosphere was charged with electricity. Bells were ringing on machines; laughter filled the air, as some teenagers shouted greetings across the room to friends. Electronic voices were coming from machines demanding a showdown. My head was spinning from computerized noise overload. Quite honestly, I didn’t know how teenagers could handle the bombardment of stimuli. Feeling queasy myself, I hoped Frankie would have a change of heart and want to walk around the flea market. But he seemed intent on making his way to the pin ball machines to beat his last high score. “Come on Savannah, let’s see how much damage I can do to Metallica,” Frankie said excitedly as we walked off and left the others discussing which games they were going to play first. Surprisingly, once inside the arcade the teenagers scattered.
“Do you want anything to drink?” he asked Savannah.
“I’ll take a water,” she replied. “Do you want anything?”
“Nah, not right now. Come on,” Frankie said as he took her hand and led her seemingly out of the arcade area to the concession stand where he ordered her a bottled water. I ascertained we left the amusement area because the noise level decreased dramatically.
“Three dollars,” the older gentleman behin
d the counter said as Frankie reached in his pocket and took me out with two others and paid. I found myself grateful I wasn’t returning to the room with all the confusion of electronic bells, because I was hoping to be able to be of service at the flea market. And that opportunity came immediately as I was handed back as change to the very next customer and got a strong whiff of cigarette smoke on her fingers.
Evidently, the flea market had a service area which contained the arcade, food court and restrooms. I only surmised this when the older woman who put me in her fanny pack, which reeked of stale cigarettes, walked from the concession stand into the ladies room to relieve herself. “Are you in line?” she asked someone already in the restroom.
“No, I’m waiting on my daughter,” came the reply.
Once she finished and washed her hands she joined her husband who had been waiting outside for her. “Here’s your tea,” he spoke as she walked up. Taking her tea, they proceeded to walk out of the building and into the warming day.
“It’s already getting hot Donald,” she grumbled. “Don’t make me stay out in this heat all day.”
“I just want to look for some tools Ethel,” he responded. “Didn’t ya want some of d’em mater plants?”
“Lord no, it’s too late in the season,” she answered. “But I wanna see if anyone’s got trumpets.” Assuming she meant angel trumpet flowering plants, I could feel my anticipation rising as they walked outside and into the first row of the vendor area. Trying to capture conversations as we went I overheard two men discussing the price of a screen door. One was making a point of all the work they’d have to do before he could hang it. While the seller was emphasizing the fact that it was over fifty years old and the defects just added to its character. Yes, this was already proving to be a stimulating day.
As the elderly couple kept walking I heard a mother telling her young son he couldn’t have the toy gun he was playing with, as he wailed he protest. Then I heard someone shouting the name “Jarrett” as we walked past them, but apparently he couldn’t hear his name over the low rumble of steady conversations going on all around us. One vendor was boldly shouting into the crowd, “The original Ginsu knives. You won’t find a better deal anywhere! Get a whole set for only fifty dollars.”
Obviously, Donald and Ethel weren’t interested and walked on. “Look Don…plants over there!” Ethel said sounding excited for the first time since I came into contact with her. Donald mumbled a response but then I heard Ethel ask if they had any angle trumpets. My knowledge, limited to my exposure to conversation and fleeting sightings, I had been right in determining which species of flower she was seeking.
“White, pink; ten dollar each,” a female voice answered her in a strange accent.
“You don’t have purple?” Ethel inquired thoughtfully.
“White, pink,” the strange accent said. I couldn’t even tell if they were male or female.
“No, I want purple,” she said disappointed. “Alright Don, let’s find your tools and then get me out of this heat.”
“Don?” Ethel said as she spun around. Apparently, something had caught her husband’s eye and he had wandered across the aisle to look at it.
“Over here,” he called out from her left. Ethel walked in his direction, but didn’t seem to pleased he’d left her to look at plants by herself.
“Why’d you wander off? I was deciding on plants.” Ethel scolded him.
“You didn’t want d’em cullers anyhow,” he said dismissing her. “How much you want for d’is here nail hammer?” he asked the vendor.
“Gotta have thirty-five for it, partner,” a young man answered.
“Hmm, it’s not in the best shape,” Donald said seeming to examine the hammer.
“That’s my bottom price, can’t go no lower.”
“Hmm…alright, let me see what I got,” Donald said. “Ethel you got two ones in dat fanny purse of yours?”
“Like you need another hammer Donald,” she said clearly frustrated. I just hoped she offered me to the vendor. The tension between these two was getting thick. Luckily, I was extracted from the foul smelling pouch and handed to Donald; whose hands smelt of smoke worse than Ethel’s; in that instant, however, I saw his weather worn face prickly with a white beard. His small eyes were almost closed because his heavy lids were a cascade of wrinkles. And when he spoke I didn’t see but a few teeth. I was relieved to have been of service and passed on.
“Thank ya,” the man said and folded me into a large wad of bills and put me in his pocket. At least I could breathe again.
His next customer was trying to talk him down on a piece of glassware. “Ma’am that’s a Hull piece…twenty-five is the best I can do.” She must have decided to buy it because I was given to her with four of my peers. Her hands were dry, but soft as she put me in her wallet. But not before I glimpsed the halo of soft red curls around her face. She wore dark sunglasses and pink lipstick; which matched her bright pink flowered shirt. Her pants were a shade of lime green, which actually was flattering on her slim figure. She was colorful, I must say.
“Thank you, ma’am,” he said as I glanced his way his booth held all types of oddities. Signs so rusted you could barely read them. Strange looking machines, which must have been used around the turn of the twentieth century, were placed about his space. There were two animal skulls sitting on top of an old cupboard. And, of course, a table with various glassware from which the woman must have chosen the vase she purchased.
“Thank you. Momma is going to love it. It’s for her birthday,” she said smiling a bright pink smile. Then turning to speak to her little boy she said, “Don’t you think Mimi will love it, Matt?
“I guess so,” her son said disinterested in the item his mother just bought. “Can we look for a fire truck now?” he asked hopefully.
“Okay, just don’t walk away,” she told him. “It’s really getting crowded.” He mumbled something about a hoping the fire truck would have a ladder on it. We didn’t walk very far when I heard the little boy squeal.
“Fire truck, mama. Look! Fire truck!” he said as he ran ahead.
She ran after him shouting, “Matthew, I told you to stay with me.”
“Momma, it’s just like what I wanted. Look!” he said. “Can I have it, pleasssse?” he pleaded.
“Well, that sure is a nice looking truck. Let me see it?” she asked him as he handed it to her to examine. “Doesn’t seem to be broken,” she said carefully checking it over.
“It isn’t,” said a young girl’s voice.
“Oh, okay,” she said surprised the child had spoken. “How much are you asking?”
“Seven dollars.”
“Will you take six for it, sweetie?” Matthew’s mother asked her.
“Daaad! Can I sell Jack’s truck for six dollars?” the girl called out to her father.
“Well now, he seems like a nice enough fireman,” a deep voice with a pronounced southern drawl answered. “Are you going to take good care of it, son?” he asked Matt.
“Yes sir!” Matt answered enthusiastically.
“Well then, I suppose you can have this Fast Lane Fire Truck for six dollars.”
“Oh, boy!” Matt hollered. He seemed only about five years old but his excitement was contagious.
“Thank you. I only had six dollars left and he was hoping to find a fire truck today,” his mother explained. “His father was in an accident recently and he’s a fireman. Matt’s been wanting his own fire truck ever since.”
“I’m real sorry to hear that, miss,” the male voice softened as he spoke. “Will he be alright?”
“He’ll be coming home from the hospital Monday,” she said handing the fire truck back to her son who squealed with joy again. Then she got out her wallet and handed me to the man with the deep voice. He was tall, with white hair and a friendly smile. Dressed in jeans, a button up shirt, cowboy boots and cowboy hat I imagined he had lived in Texas his entire life. “Thank you very much. You’ve made
a little boy very happy.”
“Not a problem ma’am, got five of my own,” he responded. “And thank you. Have a good day,” he told her. And to Matthew he said, “Remember, you promised to take good care of it.”
“Oh, I will!”
Before he put me in his pocket I caught a glimpse of Matt and his shiny red fire truck and it did have a long white ladder on top that looked like it folded out. His face was lit up with delight. I was filled with pleasure to bring such happiness to a young boy’s heart as they walked away.
Glancing around, I saw the booth was filled with toys for boys and girls. He must be selling his children’s old toys to bring enjoyment to new boys and girls.
“How much is this dollhouse?” a little girl asked.
“For you china doll, only twenty dollars.”
“Daddy, can I have it please?” the little girl was asking as she tugged on her daddy’s shirt. Children are such a joy, so unencumbered by the circumstances that plague so many adults.
The cowboy vendor hadn’t put me in his pocket yet so I could see the little girl’s purple sundress and a head full of bouncy chestnut colored curls. “Now Sam, don’t you think this dollhouse is too big for your bedroom?” her father asked her. Sam, I assumed was short for Samantha, scrunched her nose and looked quizzically at the object of her desire.
“No daddy, it’s perfect!” Sam squealed with the satisfaction that she had sized it up correctly. Then she moved closed to peer in all the windows. Seeing the happiness the dollhouse would bring his daughter, her father handed the father of five a twenty dollar bill. He placed it on the back of the wad of bills he still had in his hand and then folded it and put us in his pocket. They exchanged thank yous as the father and young daughter walked away.