Stop That Girl Read Online Free PDF

I was only twenty, so I’m young enough to be your mother. I’m not saying I was perfect, first time around. I was too young. And I had no idea what your grandfather would do to me. My God, bring a girl from a big warm family like mine into that cold industrial Ohio winter surrounded by a bunch of grim Germans with their strange traditions and horrible food? It was like a bad dream. Didn’t see anything wrong with plopping me down there and taking off for his career. The ego on that man could sink a ship. And your mother and I didn’t get along that well, as I’m sure you know. It was tough. I’d take the train home anytime I could; Dad would make sure I had the fare.
    “I’m going to let you in on a terrible secret. Your grandfather is an alcoholic. One whiff of gin and I tense up, remembering all the nights he put away half a pint. And then he’d become abusive and say all kinds of terrible things to me. Didn’t want me to go to medical school, thought it would interfere with the running of his household. Sometimes he’d get home after a hard week and have his martini and then force himself on me. This was supposed to be married life. I can’t say I recommend it, Ann.” She patted me twice on the arm and returned to rustling her boxes and bags.
    “Are you Mumsy?” I said. It suddenly occurred to me that she was an imposter.
    “Of course I’m Mumsy.”
    “Are you sure you’re Mumsy?”
    “Pipe down now,” she hissed.
    “What
is
a mumsy?” The more I said it, the more horrible it sounded.
    “Ann, go to sleep.”
    “I don’t want you and Granddad to be finished.”
    “Even after what I’ve told you?”
    “And why don’t you like Kathy? You never bring her along or play with her or even say her name.”
    “Oh, I like her fine,” Dr. Frost said. “But she doesn’t need me like you do. I’ve been investing for you secretly, my dear. I’ve put away some Standard Oil and some Johnson and Johnson and some AT and T. Not much, but it’ll grow. Should help you out later. Now good night!”

    On the bare plaster wall, starting at the bottom right, like hieroglyphics, a face, probably mine, with short messy hair and two freaked-out eyes, and then a little head, my sister’s, and then Mom and Roy, and then Granddad; and then favorite animals including giraffes and armadillos; then all the internal organs I could think of, including the appendix and spleen; and then some of the words I’d learned in my Teach Yourself Russian course: armchair, clothes rack, very good! thank you!; and then rough outlines of the states I’d gone to, including Utah and Washington and New Mexico; and then cactuses I liked, including saguaro, beavertail, and organ-pipe; and fruits I liked, including pomegranates, guavas, and figs; and spices we had in the cupboard at home, like cumin, coriander, and cayenne; and a picture of the boots I wanted, and a few of the outfits I wanted; and a few tongue twisters. Then a ghost story:
    Once there were three nurses, and two didn’t like the other because she was mean, and one day someone’s arm got amputated and the mean nurse had to get rid of it, and later the other nurses opened the supply closet, and there was the mean nurse, holding the arm!
And
she was grinning!!!!!
    And then a herd of cows with huge udders, massive udders bulging under tiny little cows, all in number-two pencil, rendered by flashlight during that long night, on my grandmother’s bedroom wall.

    She woke me in the morning. “Ann, wake up. Ann! My goodness gracious! How in the world—? You sly dog! What a creation! They’ll be studying it for years! I shall treasure it always. My, my!”
    I smiled with surprise. How she’d react to my master-piece, I’d been uncertain.
    “Up and at ’em and grab your notebook. I want to show you the garden,” she said, charging back down the hall.
    I dressed and followed her into an early morning yard filled with shadows and dew. Out the front door was an orchard of