As a child, I pretended I was missing a hand.
I can't quite remember what instigated this forgery; possibly an after-school special about a handicapped kid, or maybe it coincided with 1989, a.k.a. the year my little brother got super cute. Either way, I decided that this was an appropriate way to get both attention and pity from everyone.
The idea came to me in the parking lot of Marie Callendar's, just before my family walked inside for dinner. The genius of it swept over me, and I became flush with excitement and anticipation. I pulled my right hand into my neon green sweater, made a fist, and pushed my hand back through the sweater until just the backside of my palm was showing.
Success!
I walked through the swinging door, passed the display case of $5.99 pies, and was presented with my first opportunity for sympathy. One of the waiters was taking his break behind the counter. I smiled gently and gave a meek, handless wave.
I'm pretty sure he still thinks about me and gets misty-eyed.
No one else seemed to notice my handlessness as we walked to our table for seven. I started to think that I should have saved this ailment for a venue with more public exposure. But I wasn't about to let this outing go to waste. My mind was spinning as I tried to find a solution.
And then... like a ton of bricks...
"I'll have the salad bar."
The lady behind me noticed immediately, and watched my every move while I balanced a plate on my handless arm and used my "good arm" to fill it with lettuce, ranch dressing, and banana chips. I carefully set my plate down at the end of the bar, and prepared to attempt serving myself a bowl of delicious potato cheese soup. The lady was now joined by her gal pal and I heard them collectively hold their breathe as I grabbed the soup ladle.
I became a graceful machine, scooping and filling, and filling and scooping the thick, yellowish soup into the bowl that was anchored in the crick of my elbow. The final scenes of the movie Ice Castles flashed in my mind, where the blind girl lands her triple lux at the championship ice skating competition.
I was beating the odds.
I was defying social preconceptions.
I was playing the hand I wasn't dealt.
I didn't see her coming because I was busy looking back at my adoring audience of gal pals and giving another gentle smile.
"What are you doing?"
The shock of my sister's arrival sent my obscenely overfilled bowl flying back into the heated vat of soup, and thick spatters of potatoes and cheese onto my face. My eyes darted back and forth between the gal pals, my sister, and the slowly sinking bowl.
My sister took mercy on me and walked away shaking her head. Aware of the gal pals still standing and staring, I looked at the sinking bowl, gave a this-is-my-burden sigh, picked up my plate, and walked back to our table.
With a limp. Just in case.
