The Ambulance & I

Our first encounter

     It was Christmas vacation of when I was 9 and I was staying with my dad in Stockton, CA while my brother stayed at my mother’s house in Sebastopol, CA. Dad was at work and I was alone, left with my new matchbox toy car that “Santa” had brought me in my stocking– my father thought I still believed. It was a small, white ambulance with red and yellow lights that flashed making a loud, whiney siren noise when you pressed them down. In my room was a crash scene of stuffed animals and Barbies strewed about in distress after a terrible storm took down their plane. The ambulance and I were in the kitchen exploring the countertops when we were paged to the scene. Lights and sirens blaring, we made our way over the faucet bridge barley making the jump across the stainless steel canyon. We swung from a dish towel like Tarzan and made a softer than expected landing onto the linoleum ground. We raced through a forest of broccoli and celery, winding up coming out the other side straight into a peanut butter mud hole. What seemed like hours later we finally crept out of the mud hole, our tires caked with chunky mud. The sun beating down our backs we raced through the hallway desert. Just as we rounded the corner to the crash site, a door slammed shut.

     My dad’s voice started as an irritated whisper but quickly grew into a terrifying yell. Frightened, I ran to my baby blue toy chest and hid inside, closing myself in complete darkness. I could hear my dad searching through the house, items crashing into the wall as he threw them in frustration. I heard my closet door open and he riffled through, throwing my things about. I heard a crash and knew it was my china doll that my Grandma had given me 2 birthdays ago. I loved that doll, sleeping with it for security every night, but now it was gone - smashed and broken in pieces on my floor. When he didn’t find me I could hear him take a body shivering breath as he tried to mask his voice with calmness. His promises of ice cream and a safe talking to held no value, the end result would be the same as always. Silence followed these promises and I wondered where he had gone.

     A loud, “Damn it Katherine!” exploded from my dad. Shocked, my fists tightened around my ambulance as sirens ripped through the air. The lid was torn off my toy chest and my father grabbed at me. I kicked and screamed, bit and scratched before he was able to tear me out of the toy chest by my hair, throwing me against the wall like a forgotten rag doll. I landed on the floor where my ceramic doll had shattered, pieces of her jutting out of my skin at odd angles while blood trickled down my arm. I sat up, disoriented, while my head throbbed in beat with my heart. My father came at me again but by this time I was already deaf to his yells, lost in my own crying. In his last attack he threw the ambulance at me, it crashing into the wall with a loud “crack” next to my head. I watched it fall into my lap while my father stormed out of the apartment, the door slamming behind him. Gently, I scooped up the ambulance pressing down on the lights. When no siren sounded I softly mimicked the sound to myself as I crawled across the floor towards the door, ambulance leading the way. The sun had started to set as shadows consumed the apartment, giving the room a cold, creepy feel that made my skin crawl. Peering out the small window I saw my dad pull away, fists banging on the steering wheel as he screamed obscenities that were drowned out by the roar of his truck. I crawled back to my room and found some shoes and my jacket. I grabbed from under my mattress the plastic baggy that held my money I had saved – finding a quarter or a dollar here and there - and headed out the door, ambulance in hand.

     I walked down the darkening street, ambulance bouncing along the side of the chain link fence that stretched the length of my road. Again, I consumed myself in my imagination ignoring the hunger pains that had started to jab at my stomach. Around the corner we went, ambulance and I, down to the corner market named Kings Landing. We entered the bright kingdom, neon signs of past rulers Budweiser and Heineken blazing in the windows, and searched the isles for food that we could afford. The king sat behind the counter, tapping his fingers on the glass in poor rhythm with the music that softly played in the background. I grabbed a bag of Doritos, a package of jerky, a bottle of water and some gum. I placed the food on the counter and the king rang it up without a word, fingers still tapping a rhythm. When he asked for eight dollars I gave him five explaining that was all I had. We argued back and forth until he told me to get out or else he was calling his guards. I looked at the jerky and then at him. His glare was menacing but not as frightening as my dads. I grabbed the jerky off the counter and ran out of the market, the king screaming after me.

     I hid on the side of a building behind a dumpster. The air was filled with a stench mixed between skunk and spoiled food. The smell was so strong it made my eyes water and my lips pucker in disgust. Trying my best to ignore the smell, I sat on a piece of cardboard and started eating. After I finished my first piece, a loud crash sounded in the alley. I quietly peered around the dumpster and saw a boy about my size digging through spilled trash. I watched, half hidden behind the dumpster, as he dug through the ally of trash, the smell not seeming to bother him at all. When he turned sharply meeting my gaze, I pulled back embarrassed that I had been caught spying. He called out to me, “Hey, you gots food?” When I didn’t answer his brown face appeared where I had been sitting. “Let me in on that, I’m starved. You can have my hat if you want.” I looked down at the jerky, then at him. “I’m Katie. Here.” I handed him the bag of jerky and he took it without hesitation. I watched him tear at the jerky, his mouth smacking loudly reminding me of the Discovery Channel show where lions ripped apart their prey. When he’d had his share he tossed it back at me. “Thanks. I’m Ralph, pleased ta meetcha.” He took off his hat and bowed low. I giggled as he smiled up through his lashes at me, still bent at the waist. He was a strange kid, dressed in clothes too big and shoes with holes. His face was covered in dirt, so I thought. I asked him why he was so dirty and he laughed exuberantly, hands over belly as his head tilted back. “I’m Puerto Rican you fool! This my color, just like white as paper is yours!” I showed him my ambulance and he watched me play with an envious eye. “So you gots a home then, huh?” He asked me. I nodded, telling him I lived far away but that I was here visiting my dad house. He seemed to understand. “I live everywhere too, but my ma stays in a shelter a few blocks from here. My dad used to beat us, so we got out.”

I envied him.

     He followed me as I walked back towards my dad’s apartment. We shared our stories of home and took turns holding the ambulance up to the chain link fence. I liked the tingle in my hands that happened when the ambulance bounced around in my sweaty palm. This time walking with Ralph, the tingle seemed to travel all the way to my stomach making me feel happy and safe. As we reached the apartment gate, Ralph looked up and whistled. I guess he thought the building was tall, though I was used to it.  “I usually ‘round that alley back there, same time every day if you wanna stop by. Else you can meet me on McKinley and Industrial. Ya know, where all the train tracks meet?” I nodded, not wanting to tell him I’d be leaving tomorrow morning to go back home. I held out my ambulance. He took it, smiling with his entire body, and bounded down the street. He held the ambulance up to the fence, his hand bouncing about. I wondered if he felt the tingle all the way down in his stomach too.

Author's Note

All critques welcome :)