Chapter Text
Marcella stood very still, her chin up as so Poppa could straighten the unstarched collar of her dress. The second his hands had lifted, she ducked away out of reach.
“Slow down, Marcella, chick” Her Poppa pulled himself up from a knee and asked, “how are you feeling today?”
“Oh, just swell.” She brushed him off, searching idly about the tiny shack for something to keep her busy for the day.
“In that case, I have a very important job for you”, which made her pause, restlessly. “Your Poppa has an order being picked up in a half hour, and I’ve got to stay right here to see it off. Would you be feeling well enough to take both our lunch-cans down to the relief, and fetch us our lunch before they run out of bread?” This was a thrice-weekly routine, usually father and daughter walking carefully hand in hand down the crowded streets to deposit their government-given meal tickets in the hands of an equally destitute relief worker.
With a quick and determined nod, she was off again, this time in search of the pair of tin metal lunch-cans with their little metal buckles.
“Only if you’re feeling well enough!” This was an often-heard phrase within these walls.
“I am!” was its constant reply, though it was very rarely true.
“And it’s chilly out there this morning, don’t forget to take this!” He added, as he pulled his arms from the large knitted cardigan he kept for chilly mornings, and cut her off in the doorway where he scooped her into his arms and bundled her up tightly. Her arms now pinned to her sides, she gave him a disapproving look, too serious for her delicate little face, and squirmed away to fix the garment properly.
“Now don’t dally. And if you start to feel lightheaded or tired you come right back home.”
Marcella nodded with a military graveness. But her feet pointed themselves toward the door, itching to move.
“We don’t want you fainting again.”
“We can’t stop it. Maybe this time I’ll crack my head open on the cobblestone. And die.”
“No no no chick, you won’t” He pulled her into a hug “You’ll come right back here to me, safe and sound!”
“Safe and sound…” She wormed her way out of his arms and skipped off down the loose gravel street between the haphazard structures of their shantytown neighbors, tin lunch-boxes clanging against each other in her hand.
“Careful!”
Marcella stopped, and made a deliberate show of walking slowly and carefully. Until she was out of sight, of course.