The Vanderbilt Review XXXII (2017/2018 School Year)

The man behind the ice-cream cart was a Walt Disney drawing come to life – Ellen was sure of it. He wore a wide, obviously put-on smile over a pair of red apple cheeks, and his large, doughy hands snapped together with satisfaction whenever the next person came up in line – which, now, was Ellen. “First time at the park?” he said as she approached the cart.

“You can tell that?” she said. She stood a foot from the cart, watching him slowly force her blossoming scoop of ice-cream into a waffle cone. She took note of his pink namebadge: Andy.

“Didn’t mean anything by it, ma’am.” said Andy. “It’s most people’s first time.”

As he shaped her cone, she said, “It is my first time, but I know pretty much all there is to know about this place.”

“Ah, are you one of those super-planners?”

“My mother was a bit of a Disney fanatic. She was the real expert.”

This was already the most Ellen had talked all day.

“Did she tell you about the secret tunnels underneath Magic Kingdom?” Ellen’s mother had mentioned them several times; nevertheless, she shook her head. “There’s a whole network of tunnels as big as the park, so all the characters can get from place to place easily. Kinda spooky, I think.”

Andy handed her the cone and a Mickey Mouse ice-cream bar. His smile hadn’t shifted an inch as far as Ellen could tell. “Enjoy your visit!”

As she walked away she heard his hands clap at the next in line, a woman with two small sons. Ellen’s teenage daughters were waiting for her on a bench outside the Space Mountain gift shop. She saw Stephanie first. Leather-panted legs crossed, thumbs on a phone that was inches from her nose, earbuds in place, and a large wad of chewing gum sucking the enamel from her molars. Her black bangs shrouded her face and touched the top of the phone. The pose was the perfect encapsulation of Stephanie, Ellen thought. Ellen’s 13-year-old daughter Mia was draped on Stephanie’s shoulder, her wide eyes obscured by reflections of the phone screen. They both could have been cast in bronze, as neither looked up when Ellen approached.

“Did you guys not want to look around the gift shop?” said Ellen.

“Steph didn’t want to,” said Mia, not looking up. She was just old enough to have a trace of acne at the corners of her mouth – nothing close to the Stephanie’s red forest that she covered with layers of makeup each morning. She was a miniature Stephanie in countless other ways, too: her preference for high ponytails, her shade of purple eyeshadow, and a case of early onset teenage apathy. Only Mickey Mouse bars could detach Mia from Stephanie for any meaningful length of time. Ellen began to wave the one in her hand in front of Mia’s face until she grabbed it. I’m stooping to 123