Tuesday, July 20, 2010

Anika - Chapter Two




Chapter Two
  


A Modern Way of
Living with the Truth








I remember the day I first noticed Louis.
He was sitting by himself at recess, detached, coloring in a book he’d hidden under his
shirt all day.

He was always better at staying inside the lines.

I was within earshot, practicing my swing, when my foot caught the gravel.

I took quite a spill. There was a chunk of branch between my face and the ground.
I covered my face; my father told me later I’d had eleven stitches in my arm.

Of course, one of the nearby boys did his best not to help.
Point, laugh, etcetera.

That’s when Louis looked up.
He didn’t move to help; a teacher had already come running.
He took his crayon, and drew what I later learned to be the other boy’s face.

The next day at school, dozens of copies of his picture were strewn about the school.
            The accompanying copy read:

My name is Richard and that meens Im a Dick.
I lauf at Girls who are hurt becuz my mom calls me Stupid.
Pleese dont call me Stupid or I will hav hurt feelings.

Months later, he gave me the original as a birthday present.
            I still have it.








Today
Lexington, Virginia – Winter



            Strong, firm, and confident. The hands around her waist were everything a man’s hands were supposed to be. They led her step gently, conscious of her awkward feet. When her toes caught the polished floor, they’d steadied her before she had even stumbled. When she was to turn, to spin, or to take a step back or forward, they gave her silent guidance, communicating in tandem with only his eyes—green as an emerald forest, they had always been a hair too big for the rest of his face.