Authors: Mary Carter
My Sister's Voice (6 page)
She summed it up by telling him Deaf people could do everything but hear. Alan soaked up every word. Later, the interpreter told Lacey that when she excused herself to go to the ladies’ room, Alan turned to the interpreter and said, “Do you think it’s too soon to ask her to marry me?”
When Lacey came back from the bathroom, Alan leaned back in his chair and looked at both women.
“This is the best evening I’ve ever had,” he said. The interpreter just stared. Lacey’s fork fell to her plate and onto the floor. Alan hadn’t spoken the sentence, he’d signed it. Fluently. Lacey turned to the interpreter.
“Thank you,” she said. The interpreter nodded and said her good-byes. Lacey continued to stare at Alan, hoping he’d shrink under her gaze. He didn’t.
“What’s going on?” Lacey demanded.
“I’m sorry,” Alan signed. “I’m a CODA.” Lacey folded her arms across her chest. CODA meant Children of Deaf Adults.
“Your parents are Deaf,” Lacey said.
“Guilty,” Alan said.
Lacey pounded the table. “Why didn’t you tell me? In class. The very first day!” There was an unwritten rule that hearing people who knew sign should identify themselves whenever they were around Deaf people. Otherwise the Deaf people might be carrying on an extremely private conversation, assuming no one around them could understand them. To not identify yourself was a betrayal of trust.
“I didn’t want to get into it,” Alan said. “Not in class.”
“You should have said something.”
“Don’t be mad. Even though you’re beautiful when you’re angry.”
“This isn’t
Children of a Lesser God,
” Lacey said. “You can knock off the beautiful-angry deaf girl thing.”
Children of a Lesser God,
” Lacey said. “You can knock off the beautiful-angry deaf girl thing.”
“Fine.”
“Tell me about your parents.” And so, he did. They were kind, and funny, they were bright, and stable parents.
Standing across the street, watching their first date all over again, Lacey felt tears coming to her eyes. She never got to meet Alan’s parents; they died Alan’s first year in college. His mother died of breast cancer, and his father shortly afterward of a heart attack, but Alan was convinced it was a broken heart. Either way, it left Alan an orphan, just like her. He said his parents were lucky; they’d found true love, just like him. He assured her they would have been thrilled he was dating a Deaf girl. Lacey wiped her eyes and took a deep breath. She was pretty sure they wouldn’t be thrilled with her now. Given that she was possibly about to break his heart and all.
I really love him,
Lacey thought as she walked into the restaurant.
I have to tell him what’s going on. I have to convince him we don’t want to get married.
Lacey thought as she walked into the restaurant.
I have to tell him what’s going on. I have to convince him we don’t want to get married.
He was seated at a table in the back; he stood when he saw her coming. He was wearing the suit Lacey had found the ring in. She tried not to stare at the pocket. They kissed.
“You look nice,” she said.
“You look beautiful,” he said. He pulled out her chair, and Lacey wanted to run. Instead she sat down and dived into the breadsticks. He couldn’t ask her to marry him if she was chewing like a cow, so her immediate plan was to never stop eating.
“So?” he said. “What were all those texts about?”
“I thought you were hiding in Benjamin Books,” Lacey said.
“What?”
“I was in Benjamin Books and—I thought you were playing a joke on me.”
“I’m lost.”
“I know. It’s been a really strange day. And I’ll tell you everything—but can I just relax first?”
“Of course.” Alan flagged a nearby waiter. He ordered a bottle of wine and asked them to turn the lights up a little. It was hard to have any kind of signed conversation in a really dark restaurant. Alan watched the waiter leave. Then he turned back to Lacey.
“I remember every second of our first date,” he said. Lacey held his gaze.
“Me too,” she said. “You were such a jerk.”
“A jerk?!”
“You should’ve told me,” she said. Alan laughed.
“I know,” he said. “But I learned so much about you that night. Things I might not have learned if you knew I was a CODA.”
“Still,” she said.
“You’re the one who brought the sign language interpreter,” Alan pointed out. Lacey laughed. “At first I thought you hated me and were bringing a friend, then I thought you wanted a threesome,” he added with a wink. Lacey ripped off a tiny piece of bread and threw it at Alan. He tried to catch it in his mouth. He missed, but his charm was infectious. Lacey had better watch herself or he was going to seduce her into saying yes. “It’s been awhile,” he said, “since we’ve talked about our future. “
“Sometimes,” Lacey said, breaking off another piece of bread, “you’re like the woman in this relationship.” Alan didn’t laugh at her joke. He frowned and shook his head. Lacey gave him a big smile. “Kidding,” she said. He looked at her as if he didn’t believe she was. The waiter returned to see if the lighting was adequate. Alan nodded and thanked him. The waiter remained by their table.
“Would you like a menu in Braille?” he asked. Alan looked at Lacey.
“Ask him if I can bring in our seeing-eye puggle,” she said.
“She’s deaf, not blind,” Alan said. “And she can read just fine.” The waiter turned red and shuffled away.
“Sheila Sherman called a tow truck today,” Lacey said. “Because it’s dangerous for deaf people to drive.”
“Oh my God,” Alan said. “You must have flipped.”
“I didn’t kill her,” Lacey said. “But I wanted to.” The waiter came back with the wine. He poured and presented the glass to Lacey, as if wanting to make up for his earlier faux pas. Lacey took the glass and brought it up to her eyes, then crossed them. The waiter took a step back. She didn’t dare catch Alan’s eye or she wasn’t going to be able to keep a straight face. Next she tipped her ear to the cup as if she could hear something inside. The waiter was starting to sweat, and he was continuously glancing at Alan, who kept his eyes glued to Lacey as if her behavior was perfectly normal. Finally, Lacey put the glass of wine in her cleavage and wiggled her chest. Alan burst out laughing. The waiter set the bottle of wine down on the table and left without pouring their glasses. Alan poured it instead, his laughter causing the bottle to jiggle as he poured.
“Happy anniversary,” Lacey said.
“Happy anniversary.” They clicked glasses.
I love you,
Alan mouthed.
I love you too,
Lacey mouthed back. Alan started to reach for his suit pocket. Lacey threw her hands out. Alan stopped.
I love you,
Alan mouthed.
I love you too,
Lacey mouthed back. Alan started to reach for his suit pocket. Lacey threw her hands out. Alan stopped.
“What?” Alan said.
“I have something to show you,” Lacey said.
“Me first,” Alan said.
“No.” Lacey reached for her purse and pulled out
The Architect of Your Soul
. It was missing the cover. She handed the book to Alan. She saw him repeat the title. He gave her a quizzical smile. He started to flip through the book.
The Architect of Your Soul
. It was missing the cover. She handed the book to Alan. She saw him repeat the title. He gave her a quizzical smile. He started to flip through the book.
“Is this my anniversary present?” he asked. “You think I need help?”
“What do you think?”
“Is it new?”
“Yes.”
“Where’s the cover?”
“The girl was so hot-looking, I took it off. Didn’t want you drooling all over her during our anniversary dinner.”
“I’m sure she’s nowhere near as hot as you,” Alan said.
“You’d be surprised.” Alan continued to flip through the book. Lacey watched him intently, praying that any minute he’d tell her he thought the book was a load of crap. He stopped.
“Look,” he said turning the page toward her. “This is a good one.” Lacey glanced at the title. “Building Your Future.” Why had she shown him the book? What if he really liked it? What if he thought she was smarter than Lacey? He definitely couldn’t pretend he didn’t think Monica was hot. Lacey snatched the book away and shoved it back in her purse.
“What’s wrong?” Alan asked. “What did I say?”
“It’s not your present,” Lacey said. “It was a joke.”
“I don’t get it.”
“Deaf joke,” Lacey said.
“Explain.”
“The book is total crap,” Lacey said. “Couldn’t you see the book was total crap?”
“Why are you getting so upset?”
“How’s your brother?”
“Why are you changing the subject?”
“How is he?”
“Fine.”
“Is he still getting divorced?”
“Yes.”
“Then how can he be fine?”
“What is going on here?”
“Must be really hard on the kids.”
“Yes. We’ll have to visit.” Lacey reached over and took Alan’s hand.
“Let’s never get married.”
“What?”
“Then we’ll never get divorced.”
“Because Tom is getting a divorce? He’s a workaholic. He’s been ignoring her for years. That’s not me.”
“Most marriages end in divorce.”
“I would die before I would divorce you.”
“Another good reason not to get married. No marriage, no death.” Alan signaled the waiter. They ordered. There were no jokes this time, no laughter. How quickly things changed. Life was unpredictable. After a moment, Alan reached across the table and took Lacey’s hand. He didn’t speak, he simply held it. He knew something was wrong, and without prodding, he was waiting for her to tell him. The touch of his hand softened Lacey, breaking down the tightness she’d felt in her stomach all day. Letting go of it was like sliding down a rope; it started to unravel, and the farther she slipped, the more it burned.
She didn’t want to cry, she didn’t even know why she was crying. She should be angry, angry someone would leave a letter like that in her mailbox. Who left that letter in her mailbox? Who? Who in the hell was Monica Bowman and how was any of it even possible? Lacey didn’t want to face what she’d been thinking all day, what she’d been avoiding thinking, throwing up roadblocks about face thieves and Photoshop. It wasn’t her. That was the terrifying thought occupying Lacey’s stomach. The picture wasn’t stolen from Lacey, the picture was of Monica Bowman, and Monica Bowman was her twin. Lacey let go of the rope, and tears flooded her face. Alan took her other hand as well; he was there for her. He was always there for her.
“Tell me,” he said. He handed her a napkin and gave her back her hands. She wiped her face, took a deep breath, started for her water, but took a drink of wine instead.
“I could have brothers and sisters,” she said.
“Yes,” Alan said. “You could.”
“I want to find out.”
“Why?”
“Why not? I have a right to know where I came from.”
“You’ve never shown any interest before.” It was true. She was abandoned at Hillcrest Children’s Center as an infant. Baby in a basket. Or was it a car seat? It didn’t matter. “There’s something you’re not telling me,” Alan said.
“I’m going to pay Margaret Harris a visit,” Lacey said.
“Your house mother from Hillcrest?”
“Yes.”
“You said you’d rather eat live toads than ever see her again.”
There’s a woman out there with my face. She’s writing books and getting famous and stealing bits of my life right out from underneath me. She’s using my image on her book jacket and her Web site. Monica Bowman. What if you were meant to be with her? What if you would love her more than you love me? What if she’s my twin? What if what if what if?
“I’m sorry,” Alan said. “Of course you should visit Margaret. Do you think she can help?”
“She must know something.”
“Do you want me to go with you?”
“I’m going with Kelly Thayler.” Alan kept his mouth shut, but Lacey knew what he was thinking. She’d made it clear what she thought of Kelly Thayler as well.
“I think it’s great,” Alan said. “I fully support you.”
“You do?”
“Yes. Wanting to know where you came from, who your family is—it’s a very good sign. I just don’t want you to get hurt. You may not find out anything.”
“Of course.”
“Just promise me one thing.”
“What?”
“When you’re done looking into your past, you’ll start thinking about our future.” Lacey smiled at Alan, the man who’d been there the past six years, the man who was pretending he didn’t have a ring in his pocket because he could feel her fear. She’d never loved him more. And she still wasn’t telling him the truth.
“I promise,” she said. She crossed her heart and squeezed Alan’s hand. It was because she had an itch, she told herself, that she was touching her nose.
Chapter 6
“
I
can’t believe you want to visit Margaret,” Kelly said. “She’s going to be so excited to see you.” They were in Kelly’s car, driving the hour and a half to the Pittsburgh suburb where Margaret lived. Lacey was pleasantly surprised that Kelly jumped at the opportunity to visit Margaret and didn’t even mention bringing any of her brood. The car smelled slightly like sour milk and crayons. Like Kelly’s living room, toys littered the backseat of her car.
Margaret excited to see me,
Lacey thought.
That’s not going to last long.
I
can’t believe you want to visit Margaret,” Kelly said. “She’s going to be so excited to see you.” They were in Kelly’s car, driving the hour and a half to the Pittsburgh suburb where Margaret lived. Lacey was pleasantly surprised that Kelly jumped at the opportunity to visit Margaret and didn’t even mention bringing any of her brood. The car smelled slightly like sour milk and crayons. Like Kelly’s living room, toys littered the backseat of her car.
Margaret excited to see me,
Lacey thought.
That’s not going to last long.
“She’s disappointed you haven’t kept in touch with her,” Kelly said. Lacey gave her a look. It wasn’t anybody’s business. Little Miss Only At Hillcrest Three Years And Everyone Is Family.
Life with Margaret hadn’t been all bad, but it hadn’t been all good either. In rare nurturing moments, Margaret would wrap you in an enormous hug, make you disappear into her perfumed folds. She was a good cook too, and when she was feeling generous would step in to spice up the meals or sweeten the desserts. She lived on the grounds in a little caretaker’s cabin in the back, a mere brisk walk from whatever trouble the kids were getting themselves into.
But Margaret had mood swings. She would be smiling one minute and screaming the next with hardly a breath in between. She was strict too. It was lights out at nine
P.M.
whether you were six or sixteen. Sometimes she put salt in the cookies instead of sugar. And at night, once the kids’ lights went out, Margaret’s liquor bottles came out.
P.M.
whether you were six or sixteen. Sometimes she put salt in the cookies instead of sugar. And at night, once the kids’ lights went out, Margaret’s liquor bottles came out.
Lacey also knew, despite all this, Margaret thought of herself as a mother, whereas Lacey had always thought of her as a caretaker, and she felt no compulsion to stay in touch with Margaret after she left. If she could see anyone again, it would be her art teacher, Miss Lee. She came every Wednesday for at least five years, and she always made Lacey feel special, loved even, and signaled out for praise and instruction. She was so pretty too, wavy black hair and kind green eyes. She was the most exotic woman Lacey had ever seen. Tall and thin, always in a long flowing black skirt, white lace blouse, topped off with a turquoise necklace. Lacey probably became an artist because of her. Miss Lee didn’t treat Lacey like she was any different because she was deaf, and she even knew a few signs. Lacey loved her; she didn’t even remember her name; she was just Miss Lee. But she disappeared eventually; they all disappeared eventually.
And even if Lacey wanted to keep in touch with Margaret or anyone else, it would have been difficult. Hillcrest Children’s Center lost funding shortly after Lacey left, and the school closed down a short while later. Public schools were now mainstreaming handicapped children with the “able-bodied” population. It was all so long ago. According to Kelly, Margaret now owned a bakery. “I still think we should have told her you were coming with me,” Kelly said. Lacey once again wished she hadn’t let Kelly drive; they would have been there by now if Lacey had been behind the wheel.
“I told you,” Lacey said. “I want to surprise her.” By surprise, she meant ambush.
“I see,” Kelly said. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with your twin, now would it?”
Lacey was glad she wasn’t driving; she would have crashed into something. She wanted to slap the look of self-satisfaction right off Kelly’s face. She hated that Kelly liked to snoop, and even worse, that she was extremely adept at it. “You followed me?” Lacey asked. “To Benjamin Books?”
“No. I just called the bookstore, asked who was giving a book reading. Then Googled the name Monica Bowman. Saw her Web site and nearly fell off my chair!” Lacey stared out the window. This wasn’t happening. She was supposed to be in control. She didn’t want anyone knowing about Monica. She couldn’t even explain why. This was her battle. She couldn’t take anyone else galloping into her fight.
“At first I thought you were playing some kind of trick on me,” Kelly continued. “Using a pen name. I was like—she even gave her dog a pen name! And Alan. Then I was like—wait a minute—why would Lacey ask me to interpret for this woman if it was her—and I was like—”
It was amazing how Kelly could sign and blather at the same time; someone should really stick a sock in her mouth and tape it shut. Of course, in ASL, she wasn’t signing the “I was like” portions of the conversation, but Lacey could catch it on her lips. And whereas most Deaf people could drive and sign at the same time with the same ease as hearing people talking and driving at the same time, Kelly didn’t have the skill mastered. Several times, Lacey had to grab on to the dash and remind Kelly to watch the road.
Maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing somebody knew about her evil twin. At least now she could get someone else’s opinion. Lacey told Kelly about discovering the poster, and then reached into her purse and showed her what she did to the book cover. She joined in as Kelly howled with laughter.
“Oh my God,” Kelly said. “You’re the reason the book signing was canceled.”
“Yes.”
“Have you looked at her Web site?”
“Yes. More of the same. The same picture—the same quotes from her book. Total crap.”
“You think? I was kind of inspired. I was thinking, after you become friends, I’ll take one of her workshops and get a signed copy—”
“After we become friends? The lunatic stole my face.”
“Or she’s your twin.”
“No—” Admitting the possibility to herself was one thing. Saying it out loud was charged with a voltage Lacey wasn’t wired to handle.
“You’ll be famous,” Kelly said, oblivious to Lacey’s pounding fears. “You’ll be all over the news. You’re going to meet Matt Lauer. Can you get his autograph for me? I’ve always had a little crush on Matt. I was never so happy as when Katie left. She was always touching him. Why do short women think they’re so much better than us? It’s like the opposite of the Napoleon complex for women—”
“Stop.”
“Sorry. This is so exciting!”
“Nightmare.”
“Have you e-mailed her?”
“No.”
“Why not? Do it now. Where’s your BlackBerry?” The car swerved as Kelly wrenched around to gawk at the backseat. Lacey braced herself and pointed straight ahead. “Watch the road!”
“I’m going to pray for you,” Kelly said. “I’m going to pray she’s really your twin.”
“Just pray we don’t crash,” Lacey said.
“Lone Wolf Lacey.”
“Shut up.”
“You never let anyone get close to you. Even me. Unless you want something.” Lacey curled her right hand into a fist but kept it hidden from Kelly. She wanted to yell “One-legged freak!” as loud as she could, but she didn’t. She wanted to tell her she loved Miss Lee, but she didn’t do that either. In the first place, she couldn’t remember if Miss Lee showed up before or after Kelly left. In the second, she wanted to keep her memories of her art teacher all to herself; if Kelly were to tell her how Miss Lee doted on her too, told her she was special, beautiful, could do anything—Lacey wouldn’t think twice about kicking Kelly out of the moving car. Miss Lee belonged to her.
“I lost my parents too,” Kelly said. “But I knew who they were. I knew where I came from.”
“Just drive,” Lacey said.
“Why do you think we called you Ice?” Kelly continued. “There was always a cold, hard part of you, and you messed over anyone who ran into you. Like an iceberg.” Lacey watched the yellow line on the road flash by like bouts of lightning.
You used to call me Princess Prank too,
Lacey thought.
Because I was fun. Because I was brave. The only one not afraid to cause a ruckus in the evening and face up to Margaret in the morning. I was cool. Lone Wolf. Ice. Fuck off!
You used to call me Princess Prank too,
Lacey thought.
Because I was fun. Because I was brave. The only one not afraid to cause a ruckus in the evening and face up to Margaret in the morning. I was cool. Lone Wolf. Ice. Fuck off!
This part of the highway ran along a dense stretch of nameless woods. Lacey could easily rip Kelly’s fake leg off, beat her over the head with it, and bury her body in the woods. Nobody would ever know.
Did you hear?
everyone would ask her.
Did you hear what happened to Kelly Thayler?
Lacey would point to her ears, shake her head no.
everyone would ask her.
Did you hear what happened to Kelly Thayler?
Lacey would point to her ears, shake her head no.
No, I didn’t hear; how could I have heard?
“I’m sorry,” Kelly said. “I just want this for you. A family. A sister.”
If it can’t be me
hung silently from the end of Kelly’s fingertips. Kelly loved Lacey. Why did love work this way? How could one person feel so strongly, and the other not care? Despite her recent fantasy to murder her and bury the body in the woods, Lacey didn’t have bad feelings toward Kelly. But she didn’t love her. She didn’t think of her as a sister. She didn’t think of anyone as a sister. Maybe she just wasn’t capable of that kind of love. Maybe if you didn’t get it early enough, you were screwed. Lacey put her head back and closed her eyes. She didn’t care if Kelly jabbered to herself the rest of the way there; as long as she closed her eyes, her world would be filled with nothing but the vibrations of the road, and a long, blissful silence.
If it can’t be me
hung silently from the end of Kelly’s fingertips. Kelly loved Lacey. Why did love work this way? How could one person feel so strongly, and the other not care? Despite her recent fantasy to murder her and bury the body in the woods, Lacey didn’t have bad feelings toward Kelly. But she didn’t love her. She didn’t think of her as a sister. She didn’t think of anyone as a sister. Maybe she just wasn’t capable of that kind of love. Maybe if you didn’t get it early enough, you were screwed. Lacey put her head back and closed her eyes. She didn’t care if Kelly jabbered to herself the rest of the way there; as long as she closed her eyes, her world would be filled with nothing but the vibrations of the road, and a long, blissful silence.
A little over an hour later, Kelly took the next exit. Lacey opened her eyes and took in the sights. The place had a cozy, small-town feel. The houses were so close together, the neighbors could pass dinner back and forth through their windows, but they were all freshly painted, and flowers adorned almost every single porch. Then they passed a post office the size of a postage stamp, and a street sign warning: S
LOW.
D
EAF
C
HILDREN
. Kelly glanced at Lacey.
LOW.
D
EAF
C
HILDREN
. Kelly glanced at Lacey.
“I’m an adult,” Lacey said. “Go fast.” Kelly laughed but maintained her slow speed.
“What?” Lacey continued. “Because they’re deaf they’re not going to look both ways before crossing the street?”
“You know,” Kelly said, “I used to be afraid of you. Now you amuse me.”
“Great.” Soon they entered a section of town littered with shops and restaurants. Kelly spotted a parking place and pulled in alongside a bakery. Lacey looked at the sign. H
EAVENLY
T
REATS
. “Is this it?” Lacey said. “Or are you hungry?”
EAVENLY
T
REATS
. “Is this it?” Lacey said. “Or are you hungry?”
“I’m always hungry,” Kelly said. “But that’s not why I’m stopping.” She looked at the sign, and a little smile played across her face. “Do you think she still puts salt in the desserts?” Kelly said.
“There’s only one way to find out,” Lacey said. A warm, sweet smell wafted toward them as they approached the bakery.
“I want a chocolate éclair,” Kelly said. “Or a cinnamon bun.” Lacey wanted a glazed donut and answers.
Dogs,
Lacey thought as she entered the bakery.
Margaret’s life has gone to the dogs
. Man’s best friend was everywhere. In line for biscuits, sitting by the door, barking at something crawling up the wall, and licking the shoes of humans in line with them.
Lacey thought as she entered the bakery.
Margaret’s life has gone to the dogs
. Man’s best friend was everywhere. In line for biscuits, sitting by the door, barking at something crawling up the wall, and licking the shoes of humans in line with them.
“It’s a bakery for dogs,” Kelly exclaimed. “You turned her against children.” She and Lacey shared a laugh.
“She wouldn’t even let us get a dog back then,” Lacey said.
“That’s right,” Kelly said. “You led a hunger strike over it.”
“I made it twenty-four hours. Nobody else made it past snack time.” Kelly made a face; Lacey knew she didn’t like to be reminded of how weak she was back then.
“Now you paint dogs and she feeds them,” Kelly said. Lacey was more than just a pet and portrait artist, and Kelly, who’d scoured the Internet for everything pertaining to Lacey, knew this very well. Lacey’s Web site showcased her abstract paintings, her landscapes, her still lifes. Kelly was just getting back at her for the jab about the hunger strike. It was true, Kelly wasn’t afraid of her anymore. Bummer. “They smell so good I could actually eat one,” Kelly said.
“A dog or a biscuit?” Lacey asked.
“Funny.”
“Go ahead,” Lacey said. “I won’t tell.”
“You touched your nose,” Kelly yelled. “You touched your nose!”
“I did not,” Lacey said. Kelly signed “lie” and shook her finger at Lacey. Enough of the good old days. Lacey looked down the line of canines and owners and tried to spot Margaret behind the counter. She saw a young girl with a round face and mousy brown hair pulled into a ponytail, and a skinny boy with thick sideburns and a receding hairline despite his baby face.
“I’ll go ask them about Margaret,” Kelly said. Lacey hung back, and soon the round-faced girl pointed out a narrow staircase to their right. The girl was easy to lip-read.
“She lives up there.” Kelly hurried over to Lacey and started to interpret, but Lacey was already headed for the stairs.
“Wait in the car,” she told Kelly.
“No,” Kelly said. “Why?”
“This isn’t exactly a friendly visit,” Lacey said.
“I know,” Kelly said. “I’m in.”
Lacey went first, taking the steps two at a time. At the top of the stairs were a small vestibule and a closed door. It was plastered with Polaroid photos of various animals. On closer look, they were all pictures of a fluffy black cat. There had to be at least fifty of him. In most his fur was sticking straight out of his massive body, as if he’d just stuck his little paw in the nearest outlet. The name
BLACKIE
was displayed underneath each picture. Blackie curled up on the bed, Blackie sitting on the arm of the couch, Blackie stretched tall, as if someone had just yelled, “Sit up straight,” Blackie wearing a tux, Blackie next to a giant cutout mouse, Blackie sitting on the kitchen counter with an apron and a chef hat, and finally, in the bottom corner, Blackie at what looked suspiciously like Disney World.
BLACKIE
was displayed underneath each picture. Blackie curled up on the bed, Blackie sitting on the arm of the couch, Blackie stretched tall, as if someone had just yelled, “Sit up straight,” Blackie wearing a tux, Blackie next to a giant cutout mouse, Blackie sitting on the kitchen counter with an apron and a chef hat, and finally, in the bottom corner, Blackie at what looked suspiciously like Disney World.
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