The Kid & Me: Chapter Four: Thirty Days & Thirty NIghts

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It would be easy to sit here and write that in the next thirty days everything went along great, super hunky dory, and everyone lived happily ever after. In real life though, everything is not quite so simple, so black and white, so cut and dry and probably a hundred other clichés I could throw at you.

The problem wasn't with Bettie of course. Just as I thought she would, the kid was true to her word in every aspect, even going above and beyond the call of duty at times. While Betty was around things seemed to be on sure footing. I can’t say the same thing about those days when Dagmar and I were left to fend for ourselves.

After the kid had left that night that I had told her Dagmar could stay, I made myself comfortable on the couch or at least as comfortable as I could be while Dagmar took up temporary residence in my bedroom. I had a guest room but had used it so little that I eventually began to store unused clothes and junk in it. I couldn't remember the last time I had been in that room, having locked it up so the cleaning company that came two or three times a week wouldn't be bothered with it, and jack up their rates by cleaning up a room that wasn’t being used.

I can't say that I slept that well. The couch had become quite lumpy with extended use and I made a mental note that it was time to get a replacement. It was about five in the morning when I stirred awake, looked at my watch, and finally fell into a final deep sleep from the exhausting two days I had spent with Dagmar. Just two hours later, the kid came walking up the sidewalk in front of the house, carrying a basket of groceries, and whistling as if she didn’t have a care in the world.
When she entered the house, I tried to pretend I was still asleep, but that turned out to be a rather pointless act

"Time to wake up, busy busy day ahead," she said to me as she headed on into the kitchen.

I looked quickly at my watch and moaned! Seven a.m. "You've got to be kidding me," I told her yawning. "It seems like I just went to sleep."

She just ignored the comment, "Nope, not kidding. Get cleaned up and get dressed. And try not to wake Dagmar yet!" I frowned. It seemed to me that she could have awakened Dagmar first before destroying my own beauty sleep.

As I tried to wake myself up, I head the refrigerator door open, and the sound of clinking and clanging as the kid busied herself putting the groceries away that she had brought in. It was apparent that I would not be grabbing a few more moments of shut-eye under any circumstances.

I finally managed to wake myself up enough to the point that I was able to stumble into the kitchen to see what was up. The kid was busy pouring some mish mash of ingredients into the food processor I had bought over a year ago. It was as good as if it was new because the truth was, it had never been used until that very moment. I couldn't even remember why I had bought it. The kid looked at me. She was entirely too cheerful that early in the morning. I make it a rule never to be cheerful until after I had my first cup of coffee.

She looked up for the first time as I approached. "Would you do me one teensy little favor and empty the trash?" she asked. I gave a sigh, and muttered a few choice words as she went back to the food processor.

Reluctantly, I did as she asked and ran the trash outside to the metal can which sat forever by the curb like some kind of monument to the waste recycling industry. I trotted back to the house, and into the bedroom where a sleeping Dagmar was still sawing logs, on my bed, on my imported sheets and under my imported quilt. The memory of the night on the couch began to gnaw at me but I shrugged it off. I quietly grabbed some clothes and headed into the bathroom, being sure to lock the door behind me. It didn't take long for me to shower and dress.

When I unlocked the door and came out, the kid was waking Dagmar who stirred with a smile on her face. "At least one of us had a good night's sleep," I thought. Bettie looked at me long enough to tell me that breakfast wasn't quite ready yet, and to keep busy for a while. So as she hauled Dagmar off into the bathroom, I sat down at the computer to read the morning news, check the stock market, and my email that I had begun checking on a regular basis in case there should be some word from Susan.

It wasn't long before Bettie and Dagmar came out. Bettie hurried into the kitchen to finish breakfast while Dagmar stood beside the computer watching me work. She wasted no time in playing 20 questions and pointing to the screen.

"Watch doin' mister," she asked. I told her I was checking my messages.

"What's that mister," she would ask while pointing to the screen whenever a picture would come up that would interest her, and I would tell her what it was.

"You shore do type better than you play twinkle twinkle little star mister," she said at one point. Dagmar had a memory like an elephant. Finally I turned to her and told her that she didn't have to call me Mister, that it would be okay if she called me Joe. She mulled it over for a moment.

"Okay Mister Joe," she answered. If there was a record for the number of sighs over a three day period, you'd be looking the world record holder. Thankfully it wasn't too long before Bettie called us into the kitchen. As far as I was concerned, the first official day of occupation of my home by one Dagmar Appleton had begun with a thud.

Upon taking my first bite of Bettie's omelet, I must say that the pain of arising so early after a bad night's sleep began to evaporate. I was never much of one for breakfast, and when I did eat it was usually at some place such as Denny's or IHOP, and only then when I had to get up early to go into town. There was no doubt about it, the kid could cook Dagmar certainly agreed with my assessment when I complimented the kid on her cooking.

"This is real good, Bettie. Most of the time at the mission we just got some corn flakes. And we didn't have milk from cows, it came in a box," Dagmar said.

"Geez, Dagmar," I said looking at her. "From what you told me so far are you sure that was a mission? No TV, just cornflakes for breakfast, powder milk, it sounds more like a cult. Who were your leaders, Jim Baker and David Koresh?"

All of a sudden there was a sharp pain in my ankle as Bettie brought her foot over and kicked me while at the same time giving me a dirty look. I guess she hadn't seen the humor in my remark. Dagmar looked at me puzzled.

"What's a cult?" she asked.

"Never mind, Dagmar. Joe was just making a bad joke,"

Dagmar once again filled us in on the details. "Well, Pastor Grey ran the mission. He was really nice. He helped all the kids and gave them food and medicine, and stuff. Some of them got very sick sometimes." Suddenly my joke wasn't funny to me either. Dagmar looked down at her food without taking a bite.

"Are you going to call Mrs. Martinson to come and take me to my new daddy, Bettie." she said softly without looking up.

Bettie looked at me, and I didn't look back at her quickly taking another bite of food. "How would you like to stay here with Joe for a while, Dagmar?" Bettie asked her.

Dagmar looked at me as if that wasn't the greatest idea she had ever heard. I half expected her to break out into a chorus of “It’s A Hard Knock Life.” She then turned to Bettie.

"Will you be here Bettie?"

"Most of the time," the kid answered. "I won't be living here but I'll be here helping to take care of you just about every day."

Dagmar smiled at that bit of news. "Then I guess I can stay with Mr. Joe for a while."

I looked at Bettie giving her an exasperated look. Bettie mouthed the words, "I'll talk to her," to me then quickly changed the subject. "How would you like to go shopping today," she asked. Dagmar nodded her enthusiasm. "We need to get you some more clothes if you're going to stay here with Joe for a while," Bettie continued.

"Sounds like a great idea to me," I said enthusiastically. "You two girls go shopping and I'll just hang out here the rest of the day."

"Oh no you don't," Bettie told me sternly. "You can go with us because you're the one doing the buying. Dagmar certainly can't get by with the few dresses they sent with her. It won't kill you just this once."

The only consolation I had was that Dagmar's mood darkened as much as mine when she found out I would be coming along. She no more looked forward to the prospect of my presence than I did. The only shopping I had ever done for female clothing was when one of my "companions" had hauled me into Victoria's Secrets to decide between the flimsy pink one you could see through or the aqua blue one which didn't have enough material to cover anything to worry about seeing through it. I got up from the table, sighed and went into the living room to sulk until they were ready.

My mood in the early morning light didn't brighten any when I found out that our first stop was going to be the Thrifty Savers Shopping Center.

"We don't need to shop there," I told Bettie. "One thing I'm not, and that is cheap. I hate stores like that."

Bettie was having none of that. "There's no need to be extravagant when you can find the same clothes here that you can find at a specialty shop and they're half price. Don't be such a grouch." I was suddenly becoming aware of the fact that it was becoming harder all the time to win an argument with the kid. I wasn't sure if it was because I had lost my debate skills or she had known me so long that she had simply fine tuned hers to surpass me. Either way, I didn't argue any further and it wasn't long before we were at the Thrifty Savers Shopping Center.

It didn't take long for the kid and Dagmar to begin searching through the clothes rack as I watched. Every once in a while they would pull an outfit out and Bettie would send Dagmar into the dressing room. Dagmar would come out posing and asking how she looked. Bettie would nod approvingly and I would shake my head negatively. This time it was Bettie's turn to start sighing. I could tell she was becoming exasperated with me but I didn't care. The shopping center was beginning to fill up with mothers and their kids, and I wanted to be elsewhere.

During one of Dagmar's trips into the dressing room, Bettie began to chastise me.
"You have to try a little bit harder than what you've done so far," Bettie told me. "This isn't the worst thing in the world."

"I am trying," I told her. "But look at these clothes. They may look as good as the specialty shops, but they aren't made nearly as well. How many outfits has she tried on? Ten was my last count. And so far you've found exactly two, and if you want my opinion, I didn't think that much of either one."

She stood in front of me hands on hips.

"Are you saying you don't like the way I dress," she asked me. "Where do you think most of my clothes come from?" Ouch! I had done it again. The truth was, except for that night I had been at her house when she and Nick were leaving for the prom, I hadn't taken much notice in how the kid dressed. I had unintentionally insulted her. How was I going to squirm out of this one? "Good going, Baker," I thought to myself.


I finally managed to talk just as Dagmar arrived back on the scene. "No, no...They look fine. You always look great. But little kids, they're probably harder on clothes and I just thought we should go somewhere where they are made with quality, not just quantity. I mean, Dagmar obviously hasn't had any really well made clothes in her life, and I just thought it would be nice for her to have some name labels to show off to the other girls."
Would it work? Had the relief pitcher come in to save the game?

Her face softened, and I knew the part about Dagmar had won her over. The relief pitcher had struck out Barry Bonds to finish off the opposition.

"Okay," the kid said. She was still eyeballing me suspiciously though. "We'll go somewhere else. I know just the place." We paid for the two outfits we had already picked out and were quickly on our way across town.

The place the kid had in mind was a clothing boutique that called itself the Fashion Sense.

Although I had passed the shop many times I had never been inside, seeing as how it was a woman’s clothing store. Dagmar, for her part marveled at the fancy overbearing carpet and the even fancier overbearing walls. I had to admit it was like watching Alice in Wonderland or so I thought although I had never read that particular book or seen that particular movie. I decided to atone for my mistake at the Thrifty joint and tried to join in on the proceedings, looking through the racks and picking out outfits.

Dagmar seemed to enjoy trying on the outfits we picked out. She would take turns taking one from Bettie than myself, practically running to the dressing room to try it on and then come out and prance and spin in front of the mirror. She would then hurriedly come over and grab another one from whoever’s turn it finally was. It was obvious that this was going to be an all day affair.

After over an hour though, my feet began to ache as did my back and I took up residency on one of their couches. This time Bettie must have felt like I had done my part because she didn't say anything. When I began to feel myself start to doze off, I would hop up and join in once again.

After one such trip of looking through the racks and handing Dagmar another outfit, I looked over to see that another customer had taken away my resting spot.

As it turned out, that customer who had taken up my spot was Bettie. She looked up at me. "We have enough outfits for Dagmar but she's having such fun I thought we would let her try on a few more."

"Sure, why not!" I answered. Her story was almost as good as mine was back at the Thrifty Value Place. "Care if I join you?" she shook her head.

"Not at all," she said getting up and moving to the other couch.

And that's how the kid and me spent the rest of the afternoon. One of the women who was working at the store was more than willing to help Dagmar out, as long as the balance on my Credit Card continued to rise like the National Debt. Eventually though, Dagmar began to tire also, so we finally made our escape. We stopped to eat at a nearby diner, than headed home. For the most part it was a quiet ride.

As we drove toward the house Dagmar did manage to speak to me as I rode in the front seat with the driver. She only said one thing though, but it was enough.

"Thank you for all the new clothes, Joe. I've never had so many nice things." The Kid looked at me and then looked at Dagmar. I turned to look at Dagmar, and I have to say that for a brief moment, the wall between the two of us had a crack in it. It wasn’t a big one, just enough that maybe an ant could crawl through it.

"You’re very welcome," Dagmar. "It was my pleasure." She smiled at me and I smiled back. When I turned around to face the front of the cab again I tried to hide the fact that I was grinning. I didn't want to give Dagmar or the kid the idea that I was turning into an old softie. I had begun to accept the fact that to Dagmar I would always be Mister Somebody, but I wouldn't miss it. Joe was just fine.

When we returned home, Bettie quickly set about putting Dagmar's new wardrobe into my closet until we could get around to tidying up the guest room the next day. I took up residency on the couch, and watched as she scurried from room to room. She took Dagmar into the bedroom and dressed her in a pair of her new pajamas, and Dagmar came back out to give me a kiss and a hug good night, although I saw Bettie's handiwork in that move. I hugged her back and she was off to take up residency in my bed for one more night. I could hear the kid saying prayers with Dagmar, and it wasn't too long after that Bettie emerged. She had a sad look on her face and was carrying two sheets of paper and something else. She handed the items to me.

"I found these in the side of the overnight bag," she said handing them to me.

It turned out that one of the items was a picture of Dagmar and Veronica, enclosed in a plastic 5" by 7" flowered frame. They were standing in front an old building and Dagmar was wearing the same yellow dress she had worn a couple of days ago. When I saw the picture of Veronica, the faded memories of our brief meeting so many years ago came back to life. One of the papers was Dagmar's birth certificate but the other Bettie handed me was a letter. I began to read:

Dear Cousin,

I guess I should call you Joe, but it has been so many years since I last saw you that you might not even remember who I am. The fact that you are reading this letter means that the illness that has consumed me for the past several weeks has finally succeeded in taking me to a different place from which I cannot return. I am writing to you now so that you will understand why I place Dagmar's fate into your hands.

It has been a difficult life for Dagmar. Her father died before she had a chance to get to know him. And she has had to make do with a very simple life while my work here continued. Although I have been doing the Lord's work, it is not the kind of life for one as young as Dagmar. Before becoming ill, it had been my intention to leave the missionary work and return to the states so that Dagmar could grow up with a home, go to a good school, and not have to live such a nomadic existence. Now, that is not possible.

If I have any regrets, it's the fact that your father forbade me to see you for so many years. I always thought that I saw something special in you when you were a child and it was my wish that you would someday be able to move on to do some good things. I wish now I hadn't made your father so angry.

My hope is that you will open your heart to Dagmar, and treat her as if she was your own child. I have prayed to The Lord for guidance in this, and in my heart I know it is the right thing to do. She is your family, Joe, although I fear the idea of family has become something foreign to you.

Perhaps, with Dagmar, you can once again find the importance of family and what it means. If by some chance or for some reason you cannot open your heart to her, then my only request is that you find someone who will cherish her and love her in the way that she deserves. That above all else is the most important thing of all.

I wish I could write more, but I am very weak. Tell Dagmar often that I love her, and I will be watching over her and over you and perhaps with God's help, I will be able to guide you along the way.

It was simply signed Veronica. Bettie had stood nearby as I read the letter. I quietly folded it and put it into my shirt pocket and once again looked at the photograph.

"Did you read it," I asked her quietly. She only nodded in response. There was nothing for either one of us to say. So quietly, she said something about being over first thing in the morning again and then was gone leaving me alone to my thoughts.

Bettie arrived early once again the next morning, fixed another good breakfast, this time consisting of pancakes and eggs. Afterwards, we went to the unused guest room to get to work so that I could reclaim my bedroom, something I would be grateful for after another restless night. Upon entering I gave a huge sigh. All the boxes I had put in the room were still there, and dust covered much of the furniture. Bettie just shook her head. I don't think she was expecting it to be that bad but she didn't complain. Dagmar followed in behind her, took a look around then looked at me and then Bettie as if to say, "this ain't gonna be my room." Dagmar then walked over to the adjoining bathroom and began to pry the door open. Seconds later there was a horrifying scream from her, so loud and so long in intensity, that it even surpassed the "accident" scream of a few days before. I rushed over, figuring that she had fallen or seen a spider or something. It turned out to be far worse than that.

The months of neglect had taken it's toll. The counter had a gloopy green and yellow mess that looked like The Blob had taken up residency. The sink was encased in a black crust, as if somebody had been frying hamburgers in it for the past decade. The shower and bathtub were in even worst shape. The toilet outdid all of them though and the smell was intense. A second later, Bettie appeared in the doorway to see what the commotion was all about.

"Oh my God!" she said clutching her chest. Dagmar had grabbed her nose as I did while turning away as if we were hoping that would make the stench subside.

"God would have nothing to do with this room," I said. "I think Linda Blair sneaked in here to film an Exorcist sequel." It was obviously we had a full days work, possibly more in front of us. Dagmar quickly scurried from the room. Bettie helped me open the windows and then we left shutting the door behind us. I was almost glad to begin moving the boxes out to the trash pickup. As I worked, Bettie began dusting, wiping and cleaning. I don't think she was too anxious to tackle the bathroom from hell either.

Having removed the last box I returned to the bedroom. Dagmar was standing in front of the portrait of Susan hanging on the wall. "Who's that, lady?" she asked.

I looked at it for a moment. Susan had given me the portrait several years ago. She had talked Dagmar said. "Does she ever come to your house?"

Jim into painting it for me for my birthday. Although I liked the painting, it was not the Susan I knew. She had seldom worn that much makeup, and her hair was completely different from the way she normally wore it.

"That's a very good friend of mine, Dagmar. She gave it to me for a present."

"She's very pretty,""She used to come over quite a lot," I answered wistfully. "She moved away, so I don't get to see her anymore. Maybe someday she'll come back." I was ready to change the subject. I had managed to put thoughts of Susan to the back of my mind, and wasn't ready for them to become front and center in my thinking again.

Bettie had already begun working in the bathroom and I hurried in to help her after watching her struggle for a few moments with the counter tops. She had already cleaned one side of the cabinet, so I decided to tackle the sink. It seemed as if we scrubbed for hours and we may have. It was slow going and it wasn't long before my fingers began to have a dull ache. We did stop for a quick lunch before heading back to the bathroom once again. I could see she had made great progress on the counter top. I couldn't say the same in regards to the sink.

By the time she had finished the counter, I was still working hard.

"You haven't done a whole lot of cleaning in your lifetime, have you?" she said shaking her head.

It was no use to lie to her so I just gave her a dirty look and started scrubbing harder.

The kid went to work on the shower and I knew that was going to be no picnic either.

"You know, I could have called my cleaning company to come and do this," I told her while still scrubbing away on the sink. It was finally showing signs that my effort was beginning to pay off.

"Do you always hire someone to do every little thing for you? You have someone do your gardening; you have a cleaning company clean your house three times a week. I'm surprised you haven't hired a cook yet!"

"Hey, that's a good idea," I said. "I think I'll do just that!" Of course I had no intention of bothering to hire a cook while there were good restaurants still in town.

Bettie just frowned, picked up a sponge and flung it at me. Then she started laughing. "You are impossible," she laughed and went back to scrubbing.


I began to work harder, feeling a bit embarrassed that the kid was making so much headway while I was still struggling. Finally, just when I felt as if I could scrub no longer, the sink was clean. I stepped back to admire my expert work.

Bette looked over at it. "Not too shabby for a spoiled rich boy," she said.

This time it was my turn to frown but the truth was that despite all the scrubbing I was actually having a good time. With the kid as company, it didn't seem much like work at all. I noticed she was about finished with the shower so I quickly grabbed the plunger and began working on unclogging the toilet.

Bettie had finished the shower and went to work wiping the walls down. By the time she finished, I was still plunging making no headway or so it seemed. She came over to check out my progress.

"I guess I'll have to call a plumber," I told her. "It's even worse than we thought. Do you think Arcadia would come over?"

She looked at the clogged toilet, then looked at me and shook her head. "Arcadia is officially retired and I certainly don't think Dad would be too crazy about us calling her and asking her to fix the toilet. Let me show you how it's done."

With that she grabbed the plunger out of my hand and pushed me aside and went to work. I was certain that a plumber would be our only recourse and was basking in the knowledge that I would soon be proven right. The thought had no sooner entered my head then she pulled the handle down and the water swirled around and down the drain. She looked up at me grinning ear to ear, enjoying her moment of triumph in every sense of the word. The kid shoved the plunger back into my hand.

"See, it's not that hard. It’s all in the wrist action," And with that she strolled out of the bathroom her head held high as I stood there. I did get the last word in though as I hollered at her.

"You were only able to do that because I loosened it for you." It was the same line every guy used when he couldn't open the pickle jar and the woman would show him up by twisting it off with ease. I could hear her cackling all the way into the living room, so in my moment of shame I proceeded to scrub the toilet.

Later that evening, the kid was going to cook dinner. I insisted that she had done more than enough and we ordered a pizza, no mushrooms and no oinions. Dagmar had no problem with it this time, as we ate and watched the Dodgers playing the Reds. Dagmar watched for a while also, then began yawning so Bette took her into her spotless new room to put her to bed. She came out to finish watching the game with me. I was glad she hadn't hurried off. I was enjoying her company.

Eventually though, the hard work of the past two days had taken it's toll on the kid also as she began to lounge on the other end of the couch and dozed off. I decided to let her rest until the end of the game than I would wake her up to send her home. She was not a light sleeper and tossed and turned a little bit so I turned the volume on the set down to a whisper. Then groggily, she sat up, looked around as if not sure where she was. In truth, I don't think she was really awake. Then she lay back down and was out in a flash, Only this time her head landed squarely in my lap. I didn't know for sure what to do. I was hoping she would wake up and move again on her own. My hand was stuck under her head also and began going numb. I sat there frozen, hoping she would toss and turn some more and move back to the other end of the couch. This time however she was down for the count. The sixth inning went by, the seventh, the eighth and she hadn't moved. I thought for sure my hand was going to have to be amputated.

I finally managed to slowly slide my hand out from under her but decided to let her sleep, mainly because I didn't have the heart to wake her up. She had done so much, worked so hard in just the three days she had spent not only with Dagmar but doing things I had never expected her to do such as cooking and cleaning. The Dodger game was over, and then the news which led directly to infomercials. All the time she lay there though I kept thinking about how much I admired her. She always seemed so sure of herself, as if she could achieve anything she put her mind to. One of these days, she was going to make some guy one lucky fellow. And even if she never married, I had a strong suspicion she would have great success in whatever career path she chose to follow. Finally, I had just about decided to wake the kid up when she began to stir.

She sat up and looked around her, and it was then that she realized where she had fallen asleep. I could tell she was embarrassed as she began rubbing her eyes. She didn't look at me. I tried to make light of it for her.

"I guess you were more tired than you thought," I said quietly. She rubbed her eyes some more.

"Yeah, yeah, I guess so," she said. "I'm sorry about that. I should have gone home as soon as Dagmar went to sleep."

I looked at my watch. It was almost one. We had been on the couch for hours and I was beginning to feel the signs of exhaustion myself. I looked over to see that she was rubbing the back of her neck. "It's really too late for you to be walking home. Why don't you go bunk in with Dagmar and you can run home in the morning to clean up."

The kid rubbed the back of her neck.

"No, No, I'm okay, really I am. It's only a five minute walk." She hurriedly got up and started towards the door. I followed behind her.

"Are you sure you're okay to walk home," I asked. She insisted that she was, but I told her to call me as soon as she got there so I would know for sure.

I watched until she was out of sight then went inside to await her phone call. I knew that she was embarrassed by what had happened; otherwise she would have readily climbed into bed with Dagmar.

In five minutes she called and assured me everything was okay, Nick was up watching TV, so there was no problem. Finally, I was able to head off into my own bed. It took me only seconds to fall asleep.

It was on Thursday morning of that first week that the kid brought Mister Bear to Dagmar. It would be my first day alone with Dagmar since the previous Saturday as it was one of the days that Bettie had to work at the mall.

"This is Mister Bear," Bette told her. "He kept me company when I was a kid when I didn't have anybody to talk to. Since I grew up, I haven't had time to talk to him very much and he's getting very lonely. I told Mister Bear I knew a little girl who would like to talk to him. Will you keep Mr. Bear Company today while I go to work?" I was in awe. It seemed Bettie had a solution for everything. She knew the first few days when she went back to work would be difficult for both Dagmar and I, yet she had solved that dilemma as if it were nothing. Dagmar reached up and took Mr. Bear.

She sat on the floor and began to hug the stuffed toy that was as real to her as any live animal. "I'll talk to you, Mister Bear," she told him, "so you won't be lonely anymore. You can be my friend now too." And from that day forward Dagmar and Mr. Bear became inseparable and would be for years.

With Mr. Bear to keep her company on the days that Bettie worked, things went smoothly most of the time. Dagmar kept to herself quite a bit those days, but would often ask me several times if Bette would be home soon. The bond between Dagmar and the kid was becoming stronger. Yet, it seemed as if the relationship between Dagmar and I had hit a wall and would advance no further. I knew the fault lay entirely with me, but I was unsure of what to do about it, how to move forward, never having had to build a close relationship from scratch before. My close relationship with Susan, Frank and his kids had developed slowly over the years. I knew that when it came to Dagmar that I didn’t have years. She needed someone to be able to care for her now.

It was the second weekend when Bettie was working that Dagmar seemed bored. Even Mister Bear didn't seem to comfort her. I decided to try my hand at storytelling and grabbed one of the large books off the shelf to read to her as Bettie had done several weeks before. She seemed surprised as I had never read to her before but she sat on the floor in eager anticipation, grateful that I was finally showing her some attention.

I remembered Bettie's story when she had turned me into the villain who ate baby bears. I decided turnabout was fair play, so I began.

"A long time ago in a galaxy far away the planets were ruled by the dark lord, Darth Bettie."

Dagmar's eyes opened wide and she raised an eyebrow. I had her undivided attention so I continued.

"The rebel force, was led by the young, handsome, rugged, Joe Skywalker who wanted to do away with the dark lord Bettie and her evil force of storm troopers. With his trusty sidekick Dagmar Solo, Joe Skywalker gathered the rebel force to attack the Death Star."

What else is there to say except that Dagmar ate it up.

It was the third Saturday of the third week of the month that Dagmar finally found some playmates while sitting out in the yard with Mr. Bear. I was sitting down as usual to watch an important Dodgers game with playoff implications. Dagmar asked me if her friends could come in and play and I just nodded affirmatively to the sound of her voice. What she had asked hadn’t even registered with me as she could just as well have been asking if she could go jump in a lake. It wasn't long before the house was filled with a million screaming and yelling kids, playing cops and robbers, and running around as if they were orphans who had just escaped from the clutches of Fagin and Bill Sykes.

Watching the dodgers game soon became an impossibility having given way to the six year old kid’s rendition of Law and Order. There were rugrats everywhere. I felt as if I was under siege at the Alamo. Unable to watch the game I began begging for someone to shoot me and put me out of my misery. No such luck, though. I just laid on the couch watching and suffering until Bettie finally arrived at six o'clock to send the police force from the 57th precinct on their way home.

As if that weren’t enough, there was the night I was lying in my bed and was having this strange dream that a kid was standing there watching me while holding a stuffed bear that was laughing it's head off at me. I awakened with a start to see Dagmar standing beside my bed holding her companion. Mister Bear wasn't laughing, at least not on the outside, so at least that part really was a dream.

"What's wrong, Dagmar?" I asked groggily.

"Mr. Bear said he saw the Booger Man in my room and I got scared."

"There is no Boogeyman, Dagmar, Mr. Bear was just having a dream," I offered.

"Uh huh....there is a Boogerman. Mr. Bear wasn't asleep because he watches me while I'm asleep. Mr. Bear wouldn't tell a lie," she replied. I had no answer for that logic so I grumbled and got out of bed.

"Can I stay in here with you. I'll sit quietly and not bother you," she asked.

"I'll tell you what, Dagmar. I'll go back to your room with Mr. Bear and check it out and make sure the Boogeyman is gone."

"But what if he comes back?," she cried. Dagmar seemed to have an answer for everything. It was obvious that she had had a bad dream.

"He won't come back. Boogiemen don't like grownups so if he's around when I go in there he'll run far away." So it was that Dagmar, Mister Bear and I went to her room to run off the Boogeyman.

There is no need for me to tell you that the sight of a grown man crawling around on his hands and knees looking for something that he knows isn't there is about as silly as it gets. I had to remind myself that the goal was to get Dagmar back into bed so that we both could get some sleep. So after checking down one side of the bed and then the other I opened the bathroom door.

"See, Dagmar. No Boogerman, no boogeyman, no bookooman, no anything. Nothing to be afraid of. I walked from one end of the bathroom to the other, and she finally seemed satisfied.

As she climbed back into bed, I brought Mr. Bear to her.

"See, Mr. Bear says the boogeyman is gone." She smiled at me and I handed her the bear.

In seconds she was back asleep and I tucked her in. I stood there for a moment to make sure she wouldn't stir. It was obvious that Dagmar had come a long way. If this had happened when she first arrived, she would have stayed in her room cowering in fear rather than to awaken me. After all, when she first arrived I was more of the boogerman to her than anything she could dream up in her head. And the truth was, although I would admit it to no one at the time, is that I had become somewhat used to Dagmar being around if not particularly attached. Or at least I tried to convince myself I wasn’t becoming attached to her. My doubts about keeping her continued to gnaw away at me.

The fact is that if it hadn't been for Bettie's presence, things wouldn't have gone nearly so well during those thirty days that they did. That there had been no more major crises could be attributed almost entirely to her. I certainly didn't feel as if I had done anything even remotely to endear Dagmar to me. The problem was, I knew that someday, and it could be sooner than later, that there would be no more Bettie. After that, I would have to be my on my own to take care of the child. We were rapidly approaching the end of the thirty days. Deadlines weren't always etched in stone though, and I could extend it. But if I decided that Dagmar would be better off elsewhere with real parents, extending the deadline would only make parting that much worse. There was no denying that what had started as a friendship between Bettie and Dagmar had already grown into a bond of love. Sometimes I felt as if Dagmar saw Bettie as another mommy, and Bettie already saw Dagmar as a child put here for her to raise.

As for Dagmar and myself, it was as if neither one of us was willing to take the step that would completely bring down the barriers between us. She was afraid, and I was too stubborn. I bent over to kiss her forehead, just as Betty did on the many nights she had tucked her into bed. It was something I had never done before, but as I made my way back to my room, the enormity of my decision was beginning to weigh heavily on my shoulders.

When I awakened the next morning, it was to find Dagmar cuddled in a ball on the edge of my bed. As I began to make up the bed she sat up and began stretching. She turned to look at me and then as if she thought she might be in trouble, she looked at me and said, "The Boogerman came back when you went to sleep."

I simply shook my head and smiled.

And so it was that as the fourth week began, after Dagmar was fast asleep, I invited Bettie to go for a walk out by the pond. My excuse was so that I could get some exercise, but I think she knew better. She was well aware that there wasn't much time left in the thirty days, but she had not asked me my decision, perhaps in fear that if she did it would somehow push me in the wrong direction. After strolling around the yard for a while, talking about Dagmar and her work we finally ended up sitting on the bench. I looked for the right words to say, to approach the subject.

"Have you thought anymore about going on to college," I asked her.

"No, I've really been too busy to worry about it. Between here and work, it occupies most of my time. Nick loves it though as he practically has the house to himself now," she laughed.

"It hasn't been too much for you, has it?" I asked.

She responded quickly. "No, no. Of course it hasn’t.. I've enjoyed every minute of it."

She looked at me, and I could tell that she knew I was weighing my decision about Dagmar.

"You can't evolve your entire life around Dagmar and me," I told her. "You need a life of your own. You haven't been out on a date since this started."

She smiled at me. "I have a news flash for you, Joe. Neither have you." She was right. I hadn't even thought about dating someone in the time that Dagmar had entered my life, along with Bettie being there almost every day.

I tried to think of some glib remark to say to her but nothing came to mind. "Sooner or later though, you're going to want to date someone, or go to college. You have to start thinking about your own future, not just about Dagmar.......and me." I added the “me” when it suddenly dawned on me I had become as dependent on her as Dagmar had.

"I don't know what to say to you, Joe. To be honest, when you finally agreed to let Dagmar stay for the month, I quietly had my doubts that it could work. I think it has gone well, don't you?"

"Yes, it has," I agreed. "But only because of you. Let's be honest. If you weren't here, it would have been a disaster from day one. And someday, you won't be here. And then what?"

The kid was quiet for a long time. I gave her time to sort out her thoughts. "I think you underestimate yourself, Joe. You have so much to give of yourself, yet you always hold back. It's...it's...it's as if over the years you've built this huge brick wall around yourself and no one can shake it loose. I've seen a few cracks here and there, but when they appear it's as if you have to hurry and patch them up for fear the wall would fall and your inner self would be exposed. I wish I could tell you what the future holds, but I can't. All I know is that I love that child. And I think you love her too, as much as you let yourself do so. You've more than kept your promise about the month and I know this is difficult for you. You don't want to hurt me and I know you don't want to hurt Dagmar. I don't have the answers for you, Joe."

She turned and looked directly at me. "Don”t underestimate yourself. Dagmar thinks a great deal of you but she holds back only because you do the same. It's frustrating to see you two begin to draw close to each other, than take two giant steps back. If you send her away, do so because you know it is the only way, but don't do it because of this fear that you have of loving someone and of someone returning that love."

I was quiet. In all the years I had been on the planet, no person had ever seen me with the wisdom that the kid did. In the month that she had been almost the constant companion of Dagmar and myself, any visions I had of her as a child had evaporated. I knew every word she spoke to me was the truth, yet I didn't have the answer. I didn't know how to give myself completely to anyone. I’m not sure I could ever give myself up to anyone to that degree.

The comings and goings of my father and his many playmates had etched my life in stone at an early age. I had never experienced the warmth of a parent’s hug, the comfort of a parent tucking their child in, a simple kiss goodnight, a father or a mother to tell me they loved me as I drifted off to sleep. To me, life had becoming nothing but my playground to fulfill my immediate desires. For all the negative thoughts about my father, I had, as it turned out, become my father in every sense of the word.

The kid had to work the next day and there was nothing left to say between us. We walked slowly back to the house in silence and she left. I didn't sleep much again, and this time I didn't even try to.

Late the next afternoon, I decided to do some diving hoping it would take my mind off of things. Dagmar and Mr. Bear joined me out by the pool. I began to grade my dives aloud as I always did. Dagmar seemed to get a kick out of watching me jump high into the air, spin around and head for the water. After about four dives she got right into the swing of things. "Mister Bear says, that's a four," she would holler, or "Mister Bear says that's a three." Mister Bear as it turned out was a tough judge. It was during my tenth or eleventh dive that the phone began to ring and once again I had forgotten to turn on the answering machine.

As I climbed out of the pool, Dagmar was still sitting hugging Mr. Bear. The phone continued to ring so I decided I had better answer it.

"Stay right there with Mister Bear," Dagmar I told her. "Don't go near the water."

She nodded affirmatively and added, "Mister Bear says that dive was a four." I was beginning not to like Mister Bear so much but I hurried off to answer the phone, thinking perhaps it was Bettie to tell me she was delayed at work.

As I turned my back in my hurry to reach the phone, I didn't see Dagmar approach the water with Mister Bear. Nor did I see as she took Mister Bear and placed him gently in the water.

As it turned out it wasn't the kid at all. It was Pam Grayson whom I hadn't heard from in ages beginning to talk. Word had gotten around town about Dagmar joining the household and I knew she was just being nosy. I quickly tried to make some chit chat and get off of the phone without being rude. I was anxious to get back to my diving. Pam was rattling on about her own kids when I heard the scream, a scream unlike no other I had heard.

It was Dagmar, and the thought that quickly flashed through my mind was, "Let's see, another accident, dirty bathroom, or something else." It was then that I heard the unmistakable sound of splashing water; the alarms went off in my head at a fever pitch. I dropped the phone to the floor even as Pam was in mid sentence.

I started toward the rear of the house in a full gallop, bumping my shoulder hard on the entrance way molding. I paid no attention as the pain shooting through my arm.

The pool, although not far from the phone, suddenly seemed as if it were a hundred miles away. I could still hear the sound of splashing water, interrupted only by the muffled screams of Dagmar. I reached the pool to see that she was struggling to stay on the surface, but her struggles only succeeded in pulling her downward until I could no longer see her. She had disappeared under the water and despite its clarity, I couldn’t see her.

I began my dive well before reaching the edge of the pool. Thoughts of judges scoring didn't even enter into my head. The water was clear, but I couldn't find her as I gazed around frantically. Where was she! My heart was pounding! My instincts again kicked in. I swam across the pool to where I had seen Dagmar go under.

It seemed like an eternity before I finally spotted her body, sinking lifelessly downward. I reached her in less than a millisecond and with every muscle in my body, grabbed her by the wrist and literally flung her up to the surface with me. I wrapped my arm around her chest and using the other arm swam us to the side of the pool where I heaved her onto the dry surface, before climbing out quickly.

As I bent over her my hands were shaking. "Please, dear God," I thought. "Let her be okay." I had never prayed before but I prayed now. I quickly checked. She wasn't breathing. I turned her on to her side and as I quickly ran my fingers through her mouth water came pouring out. I took a half a second to drain some more than quickly turned her onto her back.

"Help me do this right, dear Lord, please," I thought to myself. I tilted her head back to open her airway, and gave two short breaths into her mouth and nostrils. I waited for her chest to fall, which it did but still she was not breathing on her own. Two more short breaths. Again nothing.

"Help me Veronica, please help me," I prayed again. Two more short breaths, and once again I waited for her to exhale. Then she coughed, hard and continuously as water began pouring out of her mouth. I turned her on her side to let it drain, and I could see that she was breathing on her own. Dagmar began to cry, and in my head I said, "Thank you Veronica,"

Dagmar began crying harder and I pulled her into my arms. It was then that I realized how much my own body was shaking. She tried speaking hoarsely through the sobs.

"I'm sorry......I'm sorry......I....Mr. Bear....wanted to swim........I was so scared daddy.... and then I couldn't breathe.... and it got dark.......and and and....” she began crying harder.

"Don't talk Dag, it's okay," I said to her as my own tears began to stream down my face. "I'm the one who's sorry...." I had never cried, not since I was a very young child. In those days, before I entered my teens, I had cried long and often. Cries of loneliness, until I felt there were no more tears to give.

Dag clutched me tighter, but she continued to talk to me through the tears, her voice raspy, and hoarse. "When it got dark...I saw mommy... I wanted to go with her daddy.....but she told me I couldn't." Dag cried harder. "She told me I had to stay here....that, that, that you would be my new daddy."

Dag sobbed some more, and I clutched her tighter. "Yes baby," I whispered. "I'll be your new daddy. I would love to be your daddy,"

And as I said the words I hadn't heard Bettie come into the house, or come back to the pool, but there was no mistaking that she could see the tears rolling down my face.


"Oh my God! What happened," Bettie exclaimed. I gave her a quick glance, and my own voice came out hoarse, almost in a whisper. "Call an ambulance, and get a blanket, any blanket I don't care which one"

I heard the kid rush to the telephone and dial 911, and then I heard her racing through the house. She returned with the imported blanket off of my bed. I didn't care though. And I quickly wrapped Dag in it and lay her back on the terrazo flooring, and continued to do my best to calm her. Her sobs finally began to subside, but not fully. "Don't leave me daddy," she said to me.

"I'm here for you, and Bettie is here. I'll always be here for you, Dag" I told her to lie quietly, and I stood up. I asked Bettie to go wait for the ambulance that I would carry Dag and explain everything on the way to the hospital.

“Daddy, I like when you call me Dag,” Dag whispered from underneath the blanket.

And then I saw the kid looking at me. And she looked at me in a way that she had never looked at me before. It was as if she were seeing me for the first time.

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