Guilty Pleasures

All at once the new day burst upon my senses; warm sunbeams made patterns on my bedroom wall and caressed my face...the heavy, sleepy feeling would go away soon.

I lay still, soaking in reality, while memory and the world's existence began to dawn behind my bleary eyes. As usual, there were the typical Sunday-morning sounds of our house: Dad talked to Mom out in the kitchen...the bowls and silverware clinked as they were spread out on the table. All of the sudden, I sensed something different...what was that sweet smell? I couldn't remember having smelled anything like it before...

Then it all came back.

Completely awake, I twisted onto my side and kicked off the warm, tangled sheets. Without hesitation, I threw myself off the side of the bed, determined. Hanging upside down, I planted my head on the carpet to look underneath. It was dark under there, and as I continued to hang upside down I could feel the blood tingling down to my head. My throat got tight and the corners of my eyes felt like they would burst. I reached one hand down and felt around, frantically.

Carpet, carpet, carpet...I swung my arm in a wide arch across the floor. Aha! There it was. My fist closed on the small, hard object, and I pushed myself back onto the bed, relieved.

A shaky sigh came from my throat. Nobody knew I was up yet, so I could take my time. Gingerly leaning back against the pillow and crossing my legs, I smiled, holding the pink tube of chapstick. But the longer I looked at it, the worse I felt. A strange sensation settled in my chest - it was heavy, and I felt nervous. Why? I hadn't done anything bad, had I? I stared up at the ceiling, going through the scenario in my mind.

We had been at my babysitter's house yesterday. I was usually home with Mama all day, but sometimes she would drop me off at Hannah's big house on top of the hill and let me play with her, instead. I never knew why I was being sent there, but it always seemed generous of Mom to let me go.

Hannah was cool. She was older - I didn't know exactly what her age was, but she must have been a teenager, and teenagers were cool. Very cool. Sometimes she would take me out to the big shed at one side of her driveway where there was a wagon and these weird creatures, orange and green - well, they might have been animals - that had big painted eyes.

On this visit, however, I hadn't gone alone; Dad, Mom, Kara and Isaac had come, too. It wasn't quite as much fun as it normally was.

Hannah wanted to sit and talk with the grown-ups, so we didn't play nearly as much as we normally did. I finally coaxed her into taking me upstairs - that big staircase was so exciting to me. But Hannah lacked her usual enthusiasm and got up with a sigh, the way most grown ups do.

We were almost to the stairs when she stopped to listen to something the grown ups were saying. "Not again," I thought, annoyed. I held onto the railing and tried to slide across the wooden floor with my socks. Why on earth did big people have to talk so much?

Then another idea dawned on me - one that was almost as good as going upstairs. "Hannah," I ventured, sweetly, "Could I have some chapstick?" She held up a finger, for me to be quiet...while I hoped against hope. For Pete's sake! If we couldn't go upstairs, it was the least she could do.

I looked up the stairs again; they gleamed in the warm light and there were little rugs on each step. My eyes stopped on one of them. Whoever had decided to put them there must not have thought about it long enough. Those braided rugs might slide around on the polished wood and somebody could fall. I was an expert at hurting myself, and it was easy for me to imagine what would happen if one of them slipped out from under me. With a shudder, I pulled my mind away from the unnerving idea of empty space and a hard crack on the back of my head.

I patted Hannah's elbow.

Finally, she turned and looked at me, "Please?" I begged, raising both my eyebrows in (what I hoped) was a plaintive look. She sighed, grabbed her tube of chapstick off of the end-table and handed it to me.

Glorious victory! I took the cap off and held it to my nose, savoring the smell; almost as sweet as roses - but ten times better.

I tried to look very old and important, as if I were a teenager putting on her chapstick; a teenager who had lots and lots of chapstick, and didn't really care about the smell or putting it on because she was so old and grownup and busy. I held it a minute longer, rolling it around in my hand, taking the cap off, then putting it back on. I wished I could take it home with me - how wonderful that would be.

The longer those adults talked, the harder I thought, and the harder I thought, the more I was certain that slipping this chapstick into the pocket of my dress wouldn't be a bad idea at all. So I did. All night, every time I stuck my hand down into my pocket, something seemed to respond inside. A wild surge of excitement leaped like a giant wave inside me, then ebbed away as I let go.

What would happen if I just didn't tell anybody I had it? Really, it would kind of be like forgetting and forgetting wasn't wrong, was it? If Hannah didn't ask me to give it back, it would almost be like she gave it to me, and if she gave it to me, it would actually be a present. With smug satisfaction, I agreed with my own logic and let Hannah show me the lava lamp in her sister's room.

The evening progressed until, finally, the grownups finished talking and Mom had me put on my coat. It was then that the finality of my "present taking" surprised me with a stab of guilt. What if it was bad? Stuffing my hand into my dress pocket again, I convinced myself that it was alright. She hadn't asked for it back, had she?

As I got into the car, my heart  was beating wildly - partly in fear of what I had just done and partly because I was ecstatic over having my very own tube of chapstick. Dad drove home, Mom got me ready for bed, prayed with me and turned off the light. Now morning was here and I didn't feel so good about my decision - almost sick.

"Anna?" Mom leaned through the doorway with a smile, "Hurry up, Susy Q! Time to get ready for church. I already have your outfit laid out, so come get in the bathtub."

My fist quickly closed around my stolen treasure so she wouldn't see it. As she left, I rolled out of bed, but I didn't hurry up; I felt too sluggish. In the hallway, I stopped... "Maybe if I put it somewhere else - somewhere Dad or Mom would find it, then they'd ask me about it and I could tell them the whole story. Maybe they'll tell me nothing is wrong..."