Amelia Mary Earhart
America's Most Famous Aviatrix
By Eve Black
June 26, 1999
Amelia Mary Earhart was born on July 24, 1897, at her grandparents' home in Atchison, Kansas.
Sabrina.
That’s my daughter. She came into Emily and my life when all hope for a child was gone.
“It’s a miracle,” all the doctors agreed. We agreed too.
I cradled my life in my arms and glanced at my wife’s weary face.
“Sebrina,” she nodded.
“But I thought—”
“Sabrina.”
I stared into Sabrina’s colorless eyes and the abyss stared back. A chill ran through me like a doubt of faith proving doubtless.
Sabrina did not learn to talk. She spoke.
“Mommy,” she said clear as a bell.
“And where’s Da-Da?”
She looked at me and then searched elsewhere.
“Daddy?” Sabrina called from her bedroom. “Play with me.”
Not a question. A statement.
“Precious, Daddy’s very busy.” And I was. Her mother had gone again for the weekend.
“I need my space.”
Space? Emily, space is the absence of anything. Nobody needs nothing.”
“Look you’re a great dad. And you’ve been wonderful to me–kind, gentle, and nurturing. But I need…”
“What do you need?”
“Do you really want to know?”
Rule number one. Never ask a question you don’t want to hear the answer to.
“Please.”
I could see her perfect face in my head haloed by toe locks.
“What shall we play?”
“Teatime.”
“Right,” I said, thinking of a man my wife had smiled and smiled at. I crossed my bony legs and sat at my place on the floor at Sabrina’s tiny table.
“Some tea, Amelia?”
“Who?”
“Tea?”
“Ah... Thanks.” I hadn't thought about Amelia since college.
“How do I look, Stan?”
“Will you stop it!”
“Come on. I mean, do I look okay?”
“Look, it was your stupid idea to come dressed like that. Who the hell are you supposed to be anyway?”
“I’m American’s most famous aviatrix.”
“...Where’s your whip?”
“Hey, lots of guys dress up as girls for Halloween. It’s supposed to be fun.”
“Not fun—funny. You don’t look funny. You look—”
Suddenly the front door opened, and Captain Hook stood framed in the hall light.
“Hey Stan. Wow! Who’s your date?”
‘She’s not my date. That’s—”
“Amelia,” I smiled. “Amelia Earhart.”
Sabrina gracefully poured invisible tea into my Lilliputian teacup. “Careful, Dearest. It’s hot.”
I sipped a loud slurp, lest I scald my tongue.
“So,” my daughter began after we’d given our tea its proper due. “What’s on your menu for today?”
What’s on my menu? Well, let’s see. First, I have to finish the story I’m writing that’s going absolutely nowhere. And when I’m done, I have to find an editor braindead enough to buy it. And then I just may have enough money left over after everything else to pay this month’s rent.
“Amelia?”
“Well…” I tried to imagine what Amelia might do on such a faultless Saturday morning. “I’ve got an appointment at…” What was the name of that place Emily had prattled about so? “Nick and Tony. It’s very in, you know.”
“Really?”
“Oh, yes. It’s time for a change. A complete makeover.
“Tell me.”
“Let’s see,” I said, cocking my head just as Amelia would have. “Hair? I think…red.”
“I quite agree.”
“And my nails... And…”
“The works”
“Yes, that’s the ticket. The works. Then I’m off to…Saks’ for a new outfit.”
“Evening?”
What? “Yes, something very classy.”
“Not too classy I hope.”
“And come hither,” I giggled an Amelia giggle.
“More tea?”
“Please.” Had I really gulped down my tea so fast? What must Sabrina think of me?
“But why?”
“Why…”
“Why the change?”
“Oh… It’s... I mean…”
“Yes.” Sabrina waited with patience that would have tried a saint.
So, I said the first thing that popped into my noggin. “La Cote Basque.”
“Someone…special?”
“Yes… I mean…I hope.” There was a sadness in what I said that I didn’t like at all. What I’d said was too near the truth.
“Sounds wonderful.”
“We’re to meet at for cocktails at eight.”
“And?”
“Dinner.”
“And after?”
I thought about that after. What would Amelia want to do¾hope to do¾after?
I looked at my watch. “Oh my, I am such a space cadet sometimes. You’ll have to forgive me, Sabrina. As always, I’m running dreadfully late.”
“No need to apologize. Promise me though you will tell me everything won’t you?”
“Oh, I will.”
I was in the car and headed down the highway before I knew what was what.
“Mr…?” Nick asked, leafing through a Heavenly roster that most assuredly had never heard of me.
“Look, I know I’m not in there,” I said, flashing my worn credit card. “But he’s very special.”
The dark and fury Italian who came up to about my belt buckle looked me in the eyes and grinned. “I see. Tony!”
As the tall blonde draped the crisp white apron round me, he asked, “And?”
“Color. And a style.”
“Red.”
“Very.”
I’d always wondered why I kept my hair shaggy. Now I knew. It looked stunning.
“And?” Tony asked.
“Pooh,” I said, running my hand across my stubbly stubble.
“I see. Hilda!”
The wax went on hot and buttery. “Will this—”
It did. A lot. But that’s the price of beauty, I guess.
“Happy?” Hilda asked.
“Well,” I glanced woefully at my fury limbs.
“Brazilian?”
“Bra—”
“I don’t know how to thank you.”
“Our pleasure,” Nick smiled.
“Good luck!” Tony grinned.
How could I have ever thought Nick wasn’t anything but dashing? That Tony is so lucky.
I hadn’t even glanced at the credit card receipt I’d signed.
“Evening wear?” I said to the pretty girl at the Saks information counter. She looked at me and rolled her eyes. “Sixth floor.”
“For your…?” the matronly sales lady intoned.
“Wife?”
She smiled indulgently.
“I’ll need… And, you know... And one of those…” I didn’t have the words to tell her what it was that I needed so bad.
“There–there.”
Two hours later and many dollars the poorer and I was in Seventh Heaven.
It was little–and black–and sequined–and Channel–and darling. A pair of Prada heels and matching clutch graced by a double strand of Mikimoto pearls at my throat made it perfection.
“Wow.” The sales lady wowed.
“Wow.” I wowed in agreement.
The lady smiled as she handed me my receipt. “Thank you, Ms. Earhart.”
La Cote Basque was packed as usual. Not that I’d every really been there before. It’d always just been something wonderful and romantic at the back of my mind.
I’d been punctual at eight and lingered till ten sipping Cosmopolitans.
“On me,” the cute bartender had smiled.
“His loss.”
“What?” I said to the handsome stranger beside me.
“The scoundrel who must have been run over by that Lory.”
“Amelia.”
“Fredrick,” he charmed. Then he kissed my hand all very Bond¾James Bond.
“Amelia?”
I’d been as silent as I could, but Sabrina still stirred from where she nestled on the sofa.
“Precious.” I lifted her in my arms, carried her to her own bed and tucked her safely beneath her covers.
“I was worried.”
“No need. I’m a big girl.”
“And?”
“He was both a scholar and a gentleman.”
“After?”
“Three times.”
“I’m not sure what that means. But I take it, it was fun.”
“Delicious.”
She clutched her Teddy Bear to her, closed her eyes and snuggled beneath the snug covers. “Amelia?”
“Yes?” I said, my hand resting delicately on the light switch.
“Don’t every leave me.”
“I won’t, Love. I promise.”
And I never did.
Number of words: 1262