Second Tuesday of Next Week

This is a short story about a disapointment and lesson learned at the same time.

Journal #5
Dacey Dickerson Second Tuesday of Next Week

I watched out the backseat window next to me as we drove through a small town called Amelia. As we passed a Pizza Hut heading towards Eastgate, I asked my dad if we could get some pizza.

“Does my baby girl want some pizza, or does she want to tell me what she wants for her birthday coming up?” My father was really good at changing the subject when he wanted to. Of course, with a seven year old girl, it wasn’t hard.

My heart started racing. I immediately blurted out something I’ve always wanted and never thought I’d get in a million years. “I want a pony. I want an all-black one just like Black Beauty. Can I have one daddy? Do you have the money for that?”

My father laughed and replied, “Sure, baby! If my baby girl wants a pony, I’ll give her a pony.” “Really?! You’re actually going to buy one?” I asked.

“Sure, baby. I’ll get your pony on the second Tuesday of next week. How’s that sound?” I could see him looking at me, waiting for a reaction in the rear view mirror.

As a smile came across my face, I replied, “That’s fine. Next week is good for me.” I was full of anxiousness and excitement for almost two weeks. You see, I thought that the second Tuesday of next week meant the day after. So I was certain that, come Wednesday, I was going to own a pony. I couldn’t wait to tell all of my friends at school.

As my Wednesday approached, I almost couldn’t contain myself. As I picked up the phone to call my father, I anticipated hearing the details of how my Black Beauty would look. How big was it? Was it a boy or a girl? So the other end was ringing and I didn’t even wait for my father to get out a full sentence when I blurted, “Did you get it daddy? Did you find somewhere to put it?”

“What are you talking about?!” he asked. “My pony, dad. Remember? You promised me a pony on the second Tuesday of next week. Since there’s only one Tuesday, that means Wednesday. Don’t you remember?”

“You Pollock! That means never. There is no such thing as the second Tuesday of next week.” As he laughed on the other end of the receiver, I started to cry. I didn’t even say goodbye. I felt so hurt, I just hung up. I will never believe him again, At least not when he says anything about the second Tuesday of next week.