Taking Terri Mueller Read Free

name is Nancy Briet.”
    â€œPhil Mueller. And this is my daughter, Terri.”
    Nancy Briet shook Phil’s hand, then Terri’s. “And this is Leif, as you already know.” She put her hand on her son’s head. “Phil. . . Terri. . . Can I call you that?” Her smile was brilliant. “As soon as I’m settled, I’m inviting you to dinner.”
    â€œWe’ll hold you to that,” Phil Mueller said. Everywhere they went, there were women who liked her father, and women her father liked. Terri mostly understood. If only , she sometimes thought, as she thought now, leaving the apartment, If only my mother . . . She pushed the useless thought away and considered Nancy Briet. Friendly, warm, but not gushy. Blonde, but not glamour blonde: underneath the red scarf, her hair had been loose and tangled. She liked her son and had mostly included Terri in the conversation. Points for Nancy Briet.
    Would they see her again? Terri glanced at her father as he unlocked the trunk. He was whistling between his teeth. In the cab she put her arms around Barkley, who had waited patiently for them, and remembered her small self listening gravely to her father’s stories about Sally the Mouse who sometimes had a Bad Temper whenever her father, Mustafa the Mouse, wanted to do anything without her. Silly Sally didn’t understand that Mustafa also needed friends his own age. Didn’t she know that in the end they two would always go off together in their Mousemobile? And that would be that!

TWO
    It was always fun settling into a new place. Out of the U-Haul (or in this case, storage) came their dear familiar things: Terri’s bed and bureau, their wooden-legged kitchen table with the cocoa-brown enameled top bordered with prancing horses, their TV and radios, her father’s special chair, and the old beat-up red couch they kept meaning to replace.
    On Denver Street they found a second-floor apartment, not as nice as the place with the long windows, but it was mid-August already, time to settle down, and it would certainly do very well. The phone company promised service in two weeks; Barkley and Terri did their usual explorations, locating the nearest market and gas station, and all the little shops and stores. Phil, who had a new job trussing roofs, said, “Terri, are you going to need clothes for school?” He peeled off bills from the rubber-banded roll he kept in his back pocket.
    Terri yawned. “Maybe I’ll do some shopping today.”
    â€œYou better go back to bed first,” her father said. “No use you getting up so early.”
    Terri poked at her boiled egg. If she didn’t see herfather at breakfast, it would be hours before she got to really talk to anyone. “Hi’s” and hellos to salespeople didn’t count. She’d be glad when school started.
    â€œDon’t forget to buy meat for tonight,” Phil said, before he left.
    â€œI won’t. Hey! Your lunch.” She handed him the lunch pail and thermos. He kissed the top of her head and left.
    Later, after straightening up and making a vanilla cake for supper, she went out. She liked the new neighborhood. She didn’t see many kids her age around, but there was a little movie theater that was almost like a doll’s house, and up a hill behind an old abandoned church, there was a field overgrown with wild flowers and thorn apple trees: a perfect place for Barkley to run around and enjoy himself without bothering anyone else.
    The days were draggy without school. Camping had been better. More kids around, and swimming to help pass the time. They were pretty well settled into the apartment. She had her room almost all fixed up. Windows looked down over a spare backyard and there was almost enough space on the walls for all her posters. “Up you go again,” she said, tacking up her favorite of the girl and the farmhouse.
    Most of the posters were of animals and,