We Could Do That In Our Sleep

When playing lions in the park gets boring, Maura and Johanna look over at their harried mother, Elaine, talking into her wireless headphones, arms full with Issac and Amelia, their two babies. They decided very early, Johanna and Maura, that the lives of their siblings belong to them as much as their mother. Today they needed some time away from their babies, and their mother.

“How long have we been here?” Johanna asks, squinting up at the sun.

“It’s not nap time yet,” says Maura, her inflection delivering a ready-to-go attitude more often associated with Johanna. But today was a special day.

The girls looked over at their mom again. It was apparent to them both that baby Amelia needed a diaper change as their mom, still on the phone, rummaged deep in the diaper bag, the bag to end all bags.

The flat expanse of field was finally theirs again, for the first time in months. Not quite yet littered with leaves, grass still plush from the summer, it was a perfect day to play. The grass was so lush because the horrible park people had closed this section, their section, for May to June, June to July, July to August, August to September, but it was October now.For all those months Johanna and Maura had cried and cried to their mother who didn’t want to hear it anymore.

“It wasn’t my decision to close that part of the park,” she would announce. “The park people decided and there is nothing that I can do.”

Well, the park people finally decided that the grass could be theirs again, but still one side of the fence that had kept them away remained.

Johanna looked around, eyes landing on the singular strip of fence separating the grass from a path which led to a very large oak tree.

“I think we’re gonna be here for more time today,” she said as she moved towards the fence.

Maura paced closer to her, yanking at the hem of her dress.

“It’s daddy on the phone still?”

“Yeah.”

“That will take a while.”

Maura catches up to Johanna a step before the fence. It’s chicken wire coated in a black plastic, meant mostly to keep out complacent city dogs and “young winos”. Their mom sometimes mumbled about “young winos” traipsing across in front of them in big groups, almost bumping the double stroller. The young winos put down big blankets and wear pretty dresses and laugh really loud, almost as loud as kids, but they‘re clearly adults. Johanna put a hand on her hip.

“I think it’s time to take this fence down.”

She leans into it with all of her weight, trying to gauge the give. It’s a little wobbly, but she needs her sister. She turns to Maura.

“Hey, push this with me.”

“Why?”

“So we can help the park people take the final fence down.”

“I don’t wanna to help the park people. They shouldn’t have made the fence. That was mean and ridiculous.”

“Lets rip it apart like dinosaurs.”

Johanna pivots to face the fence and grips it with both hands while howling. Her sister is confused.

“Are you a dinosuar wolf?”

“I’m going to eat the fence. How dare it exist in my way!”

“A dinosaur would eat the fence, but not with howling.”

“Okay, well we don’t need to be dinosaurs or wolves. We can be something else that might be a fence eater. Or pretend that that’s what I do in my sleep. I have sleep strength.”

Johanna throws her whole body against the fence while snoring loudly. On a third, heavy heave of her body she snorts too hard and farts at the same time. Her sister laughs and she is glad about it.

“It’s gonna fall I know.”

Maura looks back at their mother.

“Sooo… you have sleep strength problem but what about me-”

“No,” Johanna corrects. “ It’s not a problem. I’m strong all of the time, but now I’m asleep and this is what I’m doing in my sleep. If mom sees me, she can’t be mad, like the one time I peed in my sleep. Normally, when I pee on things she gets mad, but not if I’m sleep peeing.”

“But what about me? What do I say if she sees me helping you?”

“Together we can do it fast and she won’t even see and if she sees, you’re sleeping too.”

“It does make sense. We didn’t have naps today.”

Johanna nods. Maura shrugs and looks at the oak tree above them, looking extra strong and beautiful with it’s blonde highlights for the fall. Maura drops into a sprinter stance, ready to attack, both hands on the fence along side her sister.

“Let’s count to three, “says Johanna.

“No, let’s tear it down and then we can walk over to the acorn path.”

“Okay, all of our strength.”

“And let’s have growling too. Even if dinosaurs don’t growl, we can growl. We might be sleep growlers too”

Then Maura and Johanna without warning set in on the fence, shaking and howling and growling and pummeling, Waging war on the needless barrier erected by the park people.

“Whole body slam!” Johanna shouts.

“Yeah,” Maura giggles.

The girls in spontaneous unison, predicted only by the bonds of sisterhood, throw themselves into the fence with a flavor of Thelma and Louise gunning it over the cliff.

Their bodies pool together in the crumpled chicken wire, now collapsing back on to the acorn path, raw dirt springing forth from where the fence has been resurrected from the earth.

The sisters look at each other. Where in other young girls there might be astonishment, they seem very unphased. Why would there be any question that together they could take down the fence?

Maura takes a deep, sudden breath, about to release a triumphant howl, but Johanna cups her hand over her mouth, blocking the sound.

Johanna whips her head over towards their mother, still on the phone changing another baby. Was it the same baby as before?

“I think she’s proud of us.”

“We didn’t even need to tell her we were sleeping.”

“Lets go get some acorns and throw them.”

“At her?”

“I don’t think so, but maybe later.”

“Yeah, and if she asks… we did that in our sleep.”

Joahnna nods and smiles.

“Exactly. Let’s go.”

And just like that the girls jaunt over the felled fence, dresses rippling in the breeze as they go to the big oak in their corner of the park with their mom and their babies, ready for anything but sleep.