The Ghost of Memories.
Photographic Evidence of a Happy Childhood.
“Audrey, what sparked that off?”
“Family Week,” I innocently replied.
“Oh, okay. Don’t worry about her, Aud, you’ll be out of her class soon enough.”
Over the next two days, the photographs were all put on the wall of the classroom, with a large banner reading ‘Our Families’ on it. Everyone’s family was labelled, and stuck up with blue tack. I noticed mine was off centre towards the bottom, and the corners were covered up with other photos, though everyone else’s corners were visible. Every time I looked at this, and gave a pleading look to the woman I had once liked, she smirked back, smugly.
The table that sat by that wall were all the terrors of the class. They could only reach the bottom two rows of photos, but considering I was never very much liked in school after the photograph incident, for some reason, my family photograph was pretty much wrecked. It had been drawn on ‘accidentally’, and it was ripped a little at the corners, where the other photographs were pulled off sharply. The colour had faded because people would lean their chairs up against the wall, and their shirts would take away the brightness. The shorter students who sat at the table rubbed their greasy hair in it, and made the picture look oily. On the last day of term, where we were finally allowed to take our pictures home, I came home crying into Sophie’s waist.
“C’mon, Aud, I always take two photos of everything, in case one doesn’t come out right. I’ve got another one at home.” She said, in an attempt to comfort me. “C’mon, babe, what do you say we go to the newsie’s and get a camera so you can take some more pictures of you and Daddy?”
Sophie had evidently never really latched onto the idea of a five year old not calling her father ‘daddy’. If Gerard was good enough for everyone else, it was good enough for me.
Sophie’s comforting worked very well. I had a camera, and I took many pictures with it. The whole film was gone within two days, so Sophie and I took it to a superstore to get it developed while we shopped.
They were very good pictures for a five year old, if I do say so myself, and I always used to look at them and laugh at my dad being silly for the camera, or pulling a pouty face, pretending to be a supermodel.
“Family Week,” I innocently replied.
“Oh, okay. Don’t worry about her, Aud, you’ll be out of her class soon enough.”
Over the next two days, the photographs were all put on the wall of the classroom, with a large banner reading ‘Our Families’ on it. Everyone’s family was labelled, and stuck up with blue tack. I noticed mine was off centre towards the bottom, and the corners were covered up with other photos, though everyone else’s corners were visible. Every time I looked at this, and gave a pleading look to the woman I had once liked, she smirked back, smugly.
The table that sat by that wall were all the terrors of the class. They could only reach the bottom two rows of photos, but considering I was never very much liked in school after the photograph incident, for some reason, my family photograph was pretty much wrecked. It had been drawn on ‘accidentally’, and it was ripped a little at the corners, where the other photographs were pulled off sharply. The colour had faded because people would lean their chairs up against the wall, and their shirts would take away the brightness. The shorter students who sat at the table rubbed their greasy hair in it, and made the picture look oily. On the last day of term, where we were finally allowed to take our pictures home, I came home crying into Sophie’s waist.
“C’mon, Aud, I always take two photos of everything, in case one doesn’t come out right. I’ve got another one at home.” She said, in an attempt to comfort me. “C’mon, babe, what do you say we go to the newsie’s and get a camera so you can take some more pictures of you and Daddy?”
Sophie had evidently never really latched onto the idea of a five year old not calling her father ‘daddy’. If Gerard was good enough for everyone else, it was good enough for me.
Sophie’s comforting worked very well. I had a camera, and I took many pictures with it. The whole film was gone within two days, so Sophie and I took it to a superstore to get it developed while we shopped.
They were very good pictures for a five year old, if I do say so myself, and I always used to look at them and laugh at my dad being silly for the camera, or pulling a pouty face, pretending to be a supermodel.