Search

Sarah Aineh

Without deviation from the norm, progress is impossible

Treehouse Treats

Screenshot_2017-11-24-20-19-46_1_1“Mind the third step, I already told you it’s loose. If you fall, it won’t be my fault”.
Teresa rolled her eyes. Her younger sister had always been a slow learner, but she couldn’t understand why it was so difficult for her to just follow her instructions.
Carefully, she climbed the stepladder and made her way into the treehouse that her father had built for her. Teresa had been five years old when her father built her the treehouse. At the time, Angela was only two and didn’t care much about anything other than her little baby toys. But after Angela turned three and learned to walk and talk and run about, she started to follow her big sister around everywhere she went, and wanted to do everything her big sister did. Inevitably, Angela expressed interest in the treehouse.
The first time Teresa heard Angela’s request, she had her answer all ready. “You’re too little” she had said, “it’s too high up for you.” Teresa knew the treehouse wasn’t that high, because her father had ensured that it would be placed at a height safe enough for her to be on her own. But she thought perhaps Angela could be persuaded against trying to climb the tree. She had also told Angela that there were all sorts of bugs and creepy crawlies everywhere, which, again was not at all true.
Her mother had helped decorate the treehouse after her father had finished building it. She had placed a cozy mattress on the floor, on which Teresa put some of her favourite dolls and teddy bears. There was a little table and chair on one side which Teresa called her ‘office’ and on which she made tons of drawings with the colour pencils and sketch pens her mother had bought for her specially to put in the treehouse. Her favourite part of the treehouse, however, was the box on one corner labelled ‘Treehouse Treats’. Every time her parents or a relative or friends of their parents gave her any kind of chocolates or candy, she’d run to her treehouse and save them in the box. Her collection of treats got bigger and bigger and she loved looking at the colourful assortment of delicious looking sweets. Sometimes, she’d sit at the treehouse with her best friends, Mosey and Hannah, and let them empty out the contents of the box just to admire the sweets. She wouldn’t let them eat the sweets, of course, but if the occasion was special, like if it was someone’s birthday, she’d feel extra generous and let them each pick their desired candy. Then they’d lie on the mattress and enjoy the tasty treats. It was for this reason, Teresa knew, that everyone wanted to be her friend.
Angela was always barred from the treehouse and Teresa’s parents would tell her time and again to let her little sister into the treehouse, but Teresa would always find some rationale or the other as to why Angela’s inclusion in the treehouse was a bad idea.
The real reason, however, that Teresa wanted to keep Angela away, apart from the fact that she found her highly annoying, was the fact that Angela loved sweets. Whenever the two sisters were given something sweet, Teresa would quietly put them in her pocket, while Angela finished whatever it was in a matter of seconds. Then, she’d start bawling because she knew Teresa still had hers in her pocket. Teresa knew that the minute she let Angela into her treehouse, she would go straight for the box and cry and cry until Teresa would have no choice but to let her have some.
Teresa hated the fact that her little sister always used tears as her weapon. Every time Teresa wanted to do something on her own, Angela would want to tag along, and if Teresa didn’t let her, she’d start crying. And then, Teresa would always have to let Angela have her way in the end. She couldn’t understand why Angela wanted to spend all her time with her. Didn’t she understand that she was a big girl now and couldn’t keep hanging around with babies? Like last week, when Teresa wanted to go cycling down the street on her own, Angela made a huge fuss about going with her. Teresa got so annoyed that she stepped on the pedals as hard as she could and cycled away and away until she couldn’t hear her sister’s whimpering anymore.
Now, as she made her way into the treehouse, she berated Angela again. “If you’re going on the mattress, you’re going to have to take your shoes off.” She sighed and eyed her box at the corner, knowing she was going to have to relinquish them soon. She had saved some of the sweets for so long that she was sure they would not taste so good anymore. In fact, as she emptied the contents of the box on the mattress, she suddenly realized that she no longer had any desire to eat the sweets. She held up a candy bar with a glossy red wrapper and said “Here, you might as well start with this.”
After a while, the family sat down to dinner. Teresa’s mother asked her where she had been, even though Teresa was sure she already knew the answer. “We were at the treehouse” Teresa told her parents.
“Oh, did your friends come over?” her mother asked.
“No, I meant me and Angela” replied Teresa. “I offered her some candy but she didn’t want any.” Then she let go of her spoon and raised both her hands to cover her ears. She could see that her mother was wiping her eyes, and that her father was saying something, but she did not want to listen.
Later, when it was bedtime, her mother came to kiss her goodnight. After she did so, her mother went over to Angela’s bed and sat there for a while. Teresa and her mother looked at each other but neither one said anything. When it was her father’s turn to say goodnight, Teresa showed him the box that she had retrieved from her treehouse. Her father was surprised to see that she had saved up so many sweets.
“I wanted to fill it up, that’s why. It’s almost full now” she said. She closed the box and put it on her bedside table. “I should have given them to Angela a long time ago.”
Teresa wished that she could rewind the time to when she was three years old, and her parents had come home from the hospital, her mother carrying a little white bundle in her arms. When Teresa peered into the little face, she had told her mother “She looks just like me, but with much much smaller eyes”. Her mother had laughed and asked her “What shall we name her?” Teresa had been delighted when she found out that the little baby was a girl, and she had spent the rest of the day thinking up suitable names with her father. Eventually, they had decided on ‘Angela’ because it had three syllables just like ‘Teresa’, and because it suited the little baby very well. When Teresa saw Angela’s eyes open for the first time, she had waved at her and introduced herself, and then asked her mother whether she would start talking soon, so she could teach her to say her own name. The first few months after Angela came home, Teresa had always made sure to give her a kiss goodnight on her forehead, just like her mother and father kissed her every night before she went to sleep.
Or if she could not rewind that far back, she wished she could at least go back to the previous week, when Angela had asked to sit on the backseat of her cycle. Teresa had planned on spending the evening at her treehouse to prepare a drawing to give to Mosey for her upcoming birthday. But her sister had followed her to the oak tree, attempting to tail her all the way up to the treehouse. Thus, Teresa had to forego the initial plan, and instead took out her bike. Even then, Angela would not leave her alone. So she had cycled away as fast as she could, around the entire block, and even stopped for a few minutes at one of her friends’ house when her friend’s mother offered her a glass of pineapple juice. When she cycled back home, she saw that a large crowd had gathered on the street. It was only much later that she found out that Angela had been involved in an accident. That night in bed, Teresa had seen Angela look wistfully out her window, staring at the sky and then settling into her own bed.
“If I had let her ride with me, she would have never been run over by that car” said Teresa to her father.
“What happened was an accident, and not your fault in any way” her father said to her. He sat at the edge of her bed and stayed with her till she fell asleep.
The next morning, Teresa and her parents went to visit Angela’s grave. Teresa held her father’s hand with one hand, and the box of treehouse treats in the other. She placed the box next to the bouquet her mother had laid by the smooth rectangular stone on which Angela’s name was written. They didn’t stay for long, because her mother had to go to the doctor. In the recent months, she had been going to the doctor every now and then as her belly had been growing bigger like it had done before Angela had appeared in their lives. As they made their way back to the car, Teresa turned to look at Angela’s grave one last time. Her little sister was sitting cross-legged on the ground, with Teresa’s box in her lap. Teresa watched as Angela opened the box with glee, took out the candy bar with the red wrapper, and tore the wrapper cheerfully. She bit off a large chunk of the candy bar and waved goodbye happily at her sister.
Teresa smiled and waved back and got into the car, realizing fully for the first time, as the car sped away, that she would never be seeing Angela again. She sobbed quietly, resting her head on her mother’s arm. She laid a hand on her mother’s belly and felt a movement right in the middle of her palm. She looked up at her mother and saw that she was smiling. Teresa suddenly felt much much better.

Advertisements

Pneuma

It comes to life, and slow it rains,
It wanders through the heights and vales,
And far it goes to the deepest ocean,
Blackest space and whitest motion.

It views the stars like diamonds in line,
Sparkling, tinkling across the sky,
It beholds the uncommon magnitude,
Till the vastness shifts to lightest hue.

It hears the distant lonesome songs,
Yields to the yen to sing along,
It longs to laugh and yearns to cry,
Such was the haunting lullaby.

In earnest strive to abandon fear,
Tells to endure for all it holds dear,
And oft to persisting strife it goes,
But him, it keeps in the reddest rose.

The Hilltop

105902e44aee2e3f5d882cdecaabda24_1

There it goes my empathy
My dress was soaked not a minute ago
But there goes discomfort
Gliding away with the wind that blows

And gone is all longing
All sensation all asunder
And there go the cold feet
No longer fazed by the sound of thunder

There it goes my being
There go the last of my pains
How perfect I had made myself
And still I long to disengage.

 

The Two Lucys – A short story

Screenshot_2017-05-26-13-24-32_1

After having taken a long, leisurely walk from her house, Lucy finally came to the children’s park she had frequented in her childhood. The park was completely empty, and Lucy headed straight for the swings. She sat down on one of them, making sure to swing very lightly or else she would get nauseous again. A warm breeze was blowing, and Lucy took a number of deep breaths, one after the other.
An ice-cream vendor passed by, looking hopefully in her direction. He was probably on his way home. Lucy wanted to buy a cone, and then realized she hadn’t brought any money with her.
‘No thanks’ she said to the vendor, but he stopped anyway. For a hopeful second, she thought he was about to offer her a free ice-cream cone. He looked like a kind enough man, and she wondered if he had a family to support with what he made from selling ice creams.
‘Two, please’ said a voice behind her. Lucy turned, and saw a girl approach. She handed the vendor the exact price of the ice cream cones and chose vanilla and strawberry. After the transaction was over, the vendor closed his cart and went on his way.
‘My name is Lucy. Which one do you want, vanilla or strawberry?’ the girl said to Lucy, as she approached her.
‘Er..you pick’ Lucy replied.
‘Nah. Go ahead, before they melt’.
‘Ok, vanilla then’ replied Lucy, taking the ice cream cone gratefully. ‘Thanks a lot.’
The girl sat down on the swing next to hers, licking her ice cream with relish.
‘My name is Lucy too, by the way’ said Lucy. She stopped her swing, as the girl started hers.
‘Really? Cool. How old are you?’
‘I’ll be twenty-one in July. You?’
‘I just turned eleven. Just two years till I’m a teenager. I cannot wait.’
Lucy smiled. She remembered how impatient she used to be as a child to become an adult soon. Even though she was going to be a legal adult soon, she still felt no older than a high school girl.
‘I know everyone says life is better when you’re a kid, but I think it’s because they don’t remember the parts where it’s really crappy. No-one takes you seriously, you know. And they expect all kids to be the same, have the same mind, enjoy the same things, like we’re just a bunch of clones. That’s why I can’t wait till I’m a teenager so that at least, I won’t be treated like a baby anymore.’
‘There are crappy parts to being old too, though’ replied Lucy.
‘Well yeah, that’s true. But I don’t think I’ll miss being a kid.’
‘You will’ said Lucy, amused.
The girl slowed down her swinging, taking the first bite of the wafer cone. She was looking at Lucy with an almost apologetic expression on her face.
‘I hope you don’t mind my saying this, but I didn’t notice that until just now.’
She was pointing at Lucy’s stomach. Lucy looked down and involuntarily placed her free hand on her belly.
‘Not at all’ Lucy replied. ‘You wouldn’t have missed it if I had been standing though.’
‘My aunt’s pregnant too, but she’s huge, and she can barely walk. You look very tiny for a pregnant lady.’
Lucy laughed. ‘Well, I’m going to get bigger. Soon enough, I might be as big as your aunt, and have as much difficulty in walking.’
‘I don’t think so’ said young Lucy kindly. ‘Is it your first kid?’
‘Yes’ said Lucy. She had already finished her ice cream and wondered if the vendor had gone far. She could really use a second, or a third cone.
‘Is it your first child? Are you excited?’
Lucy didn’t answer immediately, even though she didn’t need to ponder on it. She was surprised to find that she felt glad when young Lucy asked her the question.
‘Yes, she’s the first, and no’ said Lucy, ‘I’m far from excited. I’m..’
‘Scared?’ offered young Lucy.
‘Scared is a mild word. I haven’t slept properly in months. Every morning, I look at myself in the mirror, and I see less and less of myself. I have another human being growing inside of me, and sometimes when I’m lying in my bed at night, I think about this fact and I have near panic attacks.’
Young Lucy was listening attentively and nodding her head sympathetically. Lucy immediately regretted having said what she had.
‘Sorry. You should know that I’m crazy. Normal people don’t talk like this.’
‘Nah, you’re not crazy. It’s normal to be scared. My mom said that when she was pregnant for the first time with my older brother, she cried all the time, and even after having him, she was still sad for a really long time, but it went away after a while.’
In her head, Lucy said ‘but the thing is, I don’t know if I want to keep this child’, and wondered whether she should say it out loud. She was afraid that her words might leave a lasting negative impression on the girl. She had probably already done some damage in that respect.
‘And’ continued young Lucy, ‘one of my friends from school, Lydia has a cousin who got pregnant in her teens. She was only seventeen, and she had the baby but it didn’t stop her from going to college or anything. Lydia says she just does everything with her baby.’
‘People are so brave’ remarked Lucy. ‘I’m not brave.’
‘It’s not that they’re brave. It’s just that they became moms. A lot of people are moms.’
Young Lucy shrugged as she said this, and she really looked as though she didn’t think much of it.
‘I don’t feel I’ll ever be ready. It’s strange for me to think of myself in that role. I thought of getting an abortion, but couldn’t do it. Now, I’m thinking of giving her up for adoption. I know it’s wrong of me to want to do that but really, she will be much better off being raised by good, loving parents, and not me.’
‘Well, it’s up to you, but maybe you should decide after the baby comes along. Then you might change your mind. Besides, you seem like a nice person. You’ll be a good mom.’
Lucy smiled in spite of herself. She had never thought of herself as a good anything. She hadn’t been a good daughter, a good friend, or a good girlfriend, and yet she thought she would have still done better in those roles than in the one that she might need to take on soon. She shook her head to hinder any more unpleasant thoughts from arising.
She looked at young Lucy, who was now looking ahead, closing her eyes as the breeze blew her hair away from her face. How strange it was that of all the people in the world, a girl with the same name as her would show up on this particular evening. She had chosen a Monday evening because the school children usually went home early on Mondays, and the park was mostly empty at this time. She had come to spend some time by herself to think about her situation calmly. At home, she found that she was always plagued with a number of unpleasant feelings like guilt or fear or stress or anger. She wanted to come to a quiet place and see if her plan to give up the baby still seemed like the right one.
Young Lucy had said to wait to decide after the baby came along. But she had already thought of that too. She knew that once she laid eyes on the baby, she would not want to give her up. She would hold her, look at her tiny hands, and she would smile, and it wouldn’t matter anymore whether she was a good person or not. She would want, more than anything else, to be a mother.
‘I wouldn’t be a good mom’ said Lucy finally. She looked down at her belly and thought she felt the baby move.
‘You can’t know that if you’ve never been a mom before’ replied young Lucy. ‘Hey, how come you know it’s gonna be a girl?’
‘I don’t.’
‘But you keep saying ‘she’ so I thought maybe you knew.’
Lucy blinked. In a matter of seconds, she felt her eyes well up with tears. She had cried so many times in the past few months- in her bathroom, in her bed, on the phone. But this time, the feelings that accompanied the tears were entirely different.
‘Sorry’ said young Lucy, immediately stopping her swing and looking at Lucy with concern. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to..’
‘No. It’s ok’ replied Lucy, wiping her eyes with her scarf. ‘I’m not crying because of what you said. I’m crying because I’m happy.’
Lucy made to get up from her swing, and young Lucy offered her arm in support. The evening breeze continued to blow, and as Lucy stood up, the younger Lucy remarked ‘your kid’s going to be lucky. She isn’t even born yet and you’re already taking her to the park for ice-cream.’
The two Lucys said goodbye to each other and went on their separate ways, the younger one skipping happily, completely oblivious to the impact her words had had on the older Lucy. Lucy went home, went straight to her room and looked at the mirror. The words formed in her mind ‘I was afraid of you because you came at a time when I hated myself. I thought ‘the world does not need another me’. But I’ve come to realize that you have come into existence not to make things worse for me but so that I could have a new purpose. Maybe I was not good for much ever, but I will be good to you. I’ll make sure as you grow older that you have some reason or other to smile every day.’
She ate her dinner, took a shower, brushed her teeth and got ready for bed, and for the first time in many months, she fell asleep within minutes of her head touching the pillow.

Thank You for the Tea – a short story

Tea-and-Biscuits

It was the summer of 98, exams were over and done with, and the holidays were in full swing. We spent the summer holidays swimming, reading Tinkle comics, eating mangoes that we plucked ourselves from the trees in our backyard, and preparing bottles and bottles of Rasna squash, our favourite flavour of which was, again, mango. We would put these bottles of juice in the fridge and empty one of the bottles on an ice tray so that we could enjoy mango ice cubes later in the day. In the evenings, we would go to the park right across the street, and we would play on this particular tree which had long, low-hanging intertwining branches. We would pretend that this was our space-ship, and that we were travelling across the galaxy to save the universe.

My sisters and I would go swimming at the club every alternate morning, waking up early so we could enjoy the pool when it was not yet crowded. One morning, when we were returning home after swimming, we met a girl on the road. She was wearing a yellow salwar-kameez, and her hair was neatly plaited, and I saw that the tip of her plait reached her waist. She wore glasses and carried a sling bag, but she carried it as one carries books, holding the bag close to her chest, as though she was afraid she would lose it. I also noticed that she had a unibrow.

The girl approached us, and spoke to my mother. I didn’t hear what she said because I was walking a little ways behind my mother and my youngest sister, but I saw that the girl started to walk alongside my mother.

“Who do you think she is?” I asked one of my sisters.

“Probably a saleswoman” she replied. My sisters and I bantered back and forth about different topics and didn’t pay much attention to the saleswoman.

We reached home, and I was surprised to see that the saleswoman was following my mother as she entered our house. For a brief moment, the saleswoman turned to smile at us. I didn’t like her, because I knew she was trying to sell my mother something we most likely did not need.

My mother asked the maid to prepare some tea for our ‘guest’, and I went to take a bath, fully intending to scold my mother after the saleswoman had left. As I shampooed my hair, I thought “I’ll tell her that it isn’t just us children who shouldn’t talk to strangers, that she ought to be careful too, and what if the saleswoman was a criminal, because women could be criminals too.” After I finished my bath, towelled myself and put a shirt and shorts on, I went to the living room. The saleswoman was just leaving and I heard her say to my mother ‘thank you for the tea’. After she left, my mother cleared away the teacups.

“So what was she trying to sell you?” I asked, as I followed her into the kitchen where our maid, Juhi was making puris for breakfast.

My mother laughed and said she wasn’t trying to sell her anything.

“So who was she and what did she want?” I asked, intrigued. My sisters were now watching TV in the living room, they couldn’t have cared less about our visitor.

“She said her name was Amil and that she had run away from home. She didn’t tell me where she lived but I suspect she hasn’t wandered far.”

“She ran away from home?” I asked, confused. I was only ten at the time, and I classed people under two groups only – children and adults. The girl had looked to be a bit older than the oldest girls in our school, so she was definitely an adult. I had been under the impression that adults could do whatever they wanted; it seemed incredible to me that a grown-up would want to run away from home when they didn’t have anyone to tell them to do their homework or eat their vegetables or to wake up early. “Why did she do that?”

“Well” my mother said as she seated herself down on one of the dining chairs. “Sometimes parents tend not to be very supportive of certain decisions their children make. When you’re young, we can scold you and try to influence you in a good way to the best of our capabilities. Then you grow older and you become more and more set in your ways, and then the parents are no longer able to exercise that influence anymore.”

I blinked, not understanding what she was trying to say.

“I’ll give you an example. You love to play basketball, right? Now, I can tell you that you can only play until a certain time of day, and then you have to get inside and do your homework. But suppose this love for basketball continues till you’re say, twenty, and I tell you to concentrate on your studies, but your only dream is to become a national level basketball player, so now there’s just a couple of adults arguing about what is right for whom. And I, as your parent, in my earnest desire to have you spend your college years well so that you can have a good future, pester you all day about your lack of interest in anything other than that sport, and thereby miss a very important point, which is that basketball makes you happy, and in attempting to take away the very thing that makes you happy, I contribute to your increased state of dejection, albeit unknowingly.”

“So she was unhappy because her parents didn’t allow her to do something that she wanted to do?”

“It wasn’t so much not allowing her as it was not affording their acceptance, and it wasn’t so much her wanting to do something as it was her wanting to be someone.”

I nodded, though I still didn’t fully understand.

“I told her” my mother continued, “that I could only convey to her what a parent might feel on learning that their child has run away. That, perhaps, we fail to realize the hurt that we cause our children but that everything we do is out of love, and that if she could somehow find a way to talk to her parents, she might find that there are a great many things they would be willing to give up rather than their daughter.”

“And what did she say?”

My mother sighed. “She didn’t say very much. But I hope she goes back home.”

Later in the evening, my sisters and I were in our backyard playing pretend that we were the Famous Five, our cat Pizzazz reluctantly and uninterestedly playing the part of Timmy. My father had just gotten back from the office and he and my mother were sitting on the verandah, talking and watching us play.

I went inside the house and into the kitchen to have a glass of water and as I was on my way back out, I heard my parents talking.

My father was saying “Yes, they spoke on the phone, but for tonight, and perhaps for the next few days, she’ll be staying with their relatives.”

“That’s a relief” my mother replied. “Not that I was worried about her. She seemed capable enough of taking care of herself. But I wanted her to realize that she needed to talk to her parents the way she spoke with me, a complete stranger she had just met. Maybe it wouldn’t have solved all her problems but it would have been a start.”

“By the way, what did she say when she approached you?” my father asked.

“She asked me the time, and I knew she was lonely because I could see her wristwatch peeping out from under her sleeve.”

And I had thought she was just some woman trying to sell my mother cheap cosmetics. I had noticed not only her unibrow, but also the pit stains on her tunic, and the gaudy bright pink elastic band she had used to tie the end of her plait. Suppose she had asked someone other than my mother the time, and suppose that person had noticed only the things I did, and not the fact that she was broken-hearted and lost, she might have gone wandering further until nobody knew where she was anymore.

Like I said, I was only ten at the time. I couldn’t understand what it was that a person could want so badly that it would drive them away from their family. If my parents didn’t allow me to play basketball, I would’ve sulked for a few days, but I certainly wouldn’t have even considered leaving my sisters or my parents.

I did think about Amil a lot though. Days later, I’d ask my father whether he had made any phone calls to enquire about the girl, and he’d tell me that yes, she had gone back home and the rest was no longer our business. I’d sit on my area on the spaceship tree and wonder whether she eventually spoke to her parents about what made her so sad, whatever it was, and whether her parents were good enough to not argue about it anymore. I’d wonder if she was finally happy, and found myself hoping against hope that she was.

Among Wildflowers

ABMorningBlueFlowerscd132.jpg

Only once did I see them up close

A three second breeze, a dither,

I chanced upon the wildflowers

Iridescent for my sake

So it was that I lay among them

And what a view had I of the sky

Bounding, boundless, from cloud to cloud

And if all of eternity I were to spend

Amid the blossoms, and abloom,

Forgetful of the daily presentiments,

Of the duties to which I am bound,

Of they who I must answer to..

 

What momentary insanity did strike me?

To believe I had the freedom to tarry

I have no business among wildflowers

But one last look before I go

 

Long after I leave this place

The beauty will remain

They will dance the same dance

And I will stay the inanimate.

New Book – Zeb and the girl

zeb_1024x1024

Hello! My new book titled Zeb and the Girl is available here.

You can also buy it on Amazon, Flipkart, and Shopclues.

Happy reading, and I hope you enjoy reading this story. I sure enjoyed writing it.

 

 

Amber Eyes

ambereyes

Eleven years we’ve left behind

Mellifluent songs she sang in rhyme

The lips she painted red as wine

And elfin gaze still stay in mind

 

She left eleven years ago

She said goodbye and shut the door

Melancholy sighs and nothing more

A hasty see-off by the shore

 

In a still second, I remember

That most perfect of all liars

But her amber eyes like ember

My heart, they set afire.

 

The Giant on the Balcony

boy-looking-out-window-in-the-rain

 

Dear Earl,

I know you said not to write until after some months, but Mamma said at dinner last night that any of us could drop dead any second because no-one knows how long we’ll live, and I think it was leading up to the usual stuff about Heaven and Hell, but it got me to thinking well what if you suddenly drop dead and I never ended up telling you about the giant in the balcony, so I thought that even though you did tell me I should only write after it’s been a while or else the other kids would make fun of you for receiving a letter from home too early that I should definitely write to you and if the other kids do make fun of you, you can just tell them it’s cos we can’t decide when we’re gonna die.

Last week, I got real sick again, so sick that I had to be taken to the hospital, and I had to spend four nights in Room 101 on the third floor until I got well. Mamma stayed those nights with me, and I always fell asleep before she did and woke up before she did.

So the first morning, when I woke up pretty early, I opened the curtain just a little bit so I could look outside. You know how there’s an apartment building across the street and you can see the people that live there through their windows like as though you’re looking at dolls living in a doll-house? Well, I was looking straight across once, and I saw a man on the balcony, and I immediately got scared because he didn’t look doll-sized or anything. I mean, I don’t understand physics as well as you do, but I was sure if he was that size in that distance, then he had to be some kind of giant. The giant came out to the balcony and sat there reading the papers and drinking from a cup. I watched him the entire time he sat and read and drank and then he went back inside.

When mamma woke up, I told her about it and she said ‘uh-huh’ like how she says ‘uh-huh’ when she’s busy with something else and isn’t listening to a word you’re saying. Instead she told me to take my medicines so I could get well again. I kept looking out the window so that I could show mamma the giant but he didn’t appear again until about maybe 4 in the afternoon which was when mamma had gone down to buy some juice for me. He stretched out his big hairy arms and yawned and simply stood there leaning on the rail for a while. He caught me staring at him and he waved at me, and I didn’t want to be rude but I looked away as soon as he noticed me. I kept looking at the door and then back to the giant hoping mamma would come in just in time to see him but he went back inside and mamma missed him again. I told her so, but she couldn’t concentrate on anything other than making me drink the juice and take my medicines. In any case, the juice tasted even worse than the medicine, and drinking it almost made me throw up.

The next day, he came out to the balcony again, and this time, after he finished reading the papers and drinking his tea, he bent down to pick up something and then he put the thing on top of the rail, and the thing turned out to be one of those hairy dogs whose eyes you can barely see, I’m sure you’d know what they’re called if you saw it, Earl. It was white and grey and the giant combed his hair just like how Joanie combs her Barbie doll’s hair, and by the time he was done, the dog’s hair was all straight and not shaggy like he was when I first saw him, and he looked real happy, especially since the giant kept feeding him treats, and later the giant got a beach ball which he placed on the dog’s nose and the dog balanced it for a full minute. I told momma about it but when I mentioned how the giant’s brushing of his dog’s hair was similar to Joanie with her Barbies, she suddenly remembered that she had almost forgotten to ask Uncle Eric to pick her up from school and she didn’t pay any more attention to what I was saying.

You know those drawings I used to make in kindergarten of the sun coming out from the mountains and birds shaped like ‘V’s’ in the sky? Well the giant made a painting almost exactly like that on the third day, except his birds didn’t look like V’s at all, even from afar, and his sun wasn’t yellow but more like orange-red, but I think he did a much better job than me. In the afternoon, I was crying because I felt dizzy and I really wanted to go home, but the giant hung a dart board on the wall next to the door that was as big as his head and I swear to God, he hit the Bullseye every single time, and I was so amazed, and I asked mamma later if we could get a dart board and she said it’d be the first thing we did when we got home!

On my last day at the hospital, I saw him again, and this time he was wearing a vest so I could see that he had muscles just like He-man’s. When he stood at the door, he bent down and lifted a barbell, you know, like the ones Uncle Eric has but these ones were bigger. After lifting about ten times or so, he put the barbell down, took a step forward and picked up a barbell that was even bigger than the first one, and it didn’t look at all like it was any effort for him. After this, he took another step forward, bent down and picked up an even much much bigger one. And at that time, mamma came in saying the doctor said it was ok for us to go home, and I said ‘mamma, come look!’ and she looked out the window just as the giant bent down probably to pick up a fourth barbell, but mamma didn’t have enough patience to look out the window for more than two seconds, and she immediately started packing my things and helping me get dressed to go home.

Just as we were about to leave, I saw the giant lean on the balcony rail. He was patting his dog with one hand, and waving at me with the other, and this time I made sure not to be rude and I waved back at him and he smiled happily at me, and I smiled too, and I thought he seemed like a nice person after all and not scary at all.

Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that much, I’ll write a longer letter next time. I’ve been playing darts these days and I thought it’d be easy but it sure isn’t. You gotta write back and tell me what boarding school’s like, I’m sure it beats being home-schooled anyhow. But mamma said I might come join you in some time if everything goes well. She’s gonna take me and Joanie to the circus this weekend, they’re in town for a month and Joanie wanted to go see the elephants, and I told mamma circus is for small kids and that I didn’t wanna go but she’s taking me any way and I’ll write all about it in the next letter, but only after you send me a reply for this one.

 

Love,

your brother Peter.

 

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑