Sand Castles
One.
"Did you hear?"
Lucy Jane switched her phone from one hand to the other, then placed it against her cheek, holding it there with her shoulder. She plucked the hair-tie from her niece's fingers and quickly put the girl's hair up into a ponytail. "Hear what, Lauren?" she sighed. Her eyes followed the red-headed little girl as she ran over to meet with her friends. They all sped off to one of the in-floor trampolines and began jumping in succession, filling the large room with their laughter. Lucy smiled, then turned around and left the building.
"Michael beat Larisa's record last night," Lauren said excitedly, hardly seeming to be able to get the news out fast enough.
Lucy pulled open her car door, put her key in the ignition. "That's fantastic, Lauren." She had, actually, seen something about this on the news that morning, but she was in no way going to discuss the subject, even with her friend.
Lauren huffed. "Oh, come on! You have to at least be a little bit proud of or happy for him, Luc!"
"I'm really not," she responded, pulling out of the parking lot and into afternoon traffic. "I have more important things to worry about than the Olympics and, especially, what's going on in Michael's life."
"You're such a party-pooper, Lucy Jane."
Lucy shook her head, wishing desperately to be rid of their current topic of conversation. She wasn't in the mood for Lauren's constant nagging or for the guilt trips Lauren gave her for how she felt about Michael Phelps. The past would forever be the past, and Michael was Lucy's past. In her opinion, in her hopes and dreams, the past was exactly where Michael needed to stay in relation to her and her present life.
After a few seconds of silence, Lauren spoke again, this time softly. "He was your best friend, Lucy."
The smile that had somehow managed to stay on Lucy's face throughout their talk finally slipped from her face. Her hands tightened on the steering wheel until her knuckles turned white and she slammed on the brakes as she came, seemingly suddenly, to a stoplight. "I'll talk to you later, Lauren." She heard her friend begin to say something, but it was too late. She clicked the little red button on her phone and threw the device into the passenger seat.
Twenty minutes and one vanilla latte later, Lucy was sat on the couch in her apartment, trying to decide whether or not it would be safe to turn the television on. Even before the Olympics had started it was hard not to hear the name "Michael Phelps" on an almost daily basis. After the Trials, at which Michael had qualified for eight different events, all anyone could talk about was the possibillity of him beating gymnast Larisa Latynina's record of 18 total Olympic medals. All of it made Lucy want to throw up. None of it mattered to her; the Olympics, Michael's medals, his records. There was no point to put a whole bunch of hype into one man, because at the end of the day, no matter what he accomplished in the pool, that's all Michael was: a man. The man who had broken Lucy Jane when she hadn't even known he was capable of doing so.
Lucy didn't turn the t.v. on. Instead, she grabbed her laptop, deciding that it would probably be in her best interests if she got work done on the paper she had due the following Wednesday. Before opening the Word document her essay was saved in, she checked her email. Nothing special or interesting. She logged into her Facebook account. Nothing but Michael's name and face. She exited the browser and opened up her essay, digging deep in her memory bank to find the ideas she'd left off with the previous night.
Mr. Darcy, she typed, is one of those characters who, when left with readers who are hard-pressed to change their minds once they've made up their opinion, is made into a devil.
Lucy smiled. This was her favorite class, all about characterization and the different ways authors created their characters. As an Anthropology major, it was hard to apply her English minor to her major, but the characterization analysis class was one, the only one, in fact, that was completely co-habitual with it. As she went through different time periods in her Anthropology-related courses, learning about human behavior throughout the ages, she could also read different books from different time periods. It's common knowledge: Authors write what they know. Lucy was able to mix her studies in the papers she wrote for her characterization class, and she loved it.
Before she knew it, Lucy Jane was finished with the paper and the alarm on her phone telling her that she had only 25 minutes before her niece's gymnastics class ended and she would have to be there to pick her up was singing in her ear. She saved the document and emailed it to her professor, a week early, then closed the laptop and set it on the coffee table. She grabbed the keys from beside her empty coffee cup, glanced quickly at the t.v., then left the apartment.
The drive to pick Jadey up always seemed much shorter than the one to drop her off. This was probably due to Jadey being worn out after class and having almost nothing to say once she was in the car with her aunt on the way home.
"How was class?" Lucy asked, wrapping her arm around Jadey's bare shoulders in a hug.
Jadey yawned, though it was hardly past supper time. "It was fun. We got to work on the balance beam today, and Ms. Carol said I'm getting a lot better," she said. As her sentence wore on, her lisp became more pronounced. She yawned again before climbing into the backseat of Lucy's car. "Will you watch next time, Aunt Lucy?"
Lucy smiled at her niece in the rearview mirror. "Of course I will, Jadey." She made sure the girl was strapped into her carseat before pulling out of the parking space. Jadey was still too small, the smallest in all of her classes, to sit in a car without at least a booster seat.
"I'm hungry."
"I'll make some macaroni when we get home, alright?"
Jadey nodded, then fell asleep, her head leaning against the side of her seat.
When they got home, Lucy gently woke the sleeping child, grabbing her duffel bag from her hands and putting it over her shoulder. She scooped Jadey, still half-asleep, into her arms, propping her on her hip. As she walked into the apartment she sat Jadey on the couch. "Are you still hungry?" she whispered.
"Can I have a PopTart?" she asked.
Lucy kissed her forehead, dropping the duffel bag next to the couch and walking to the kitchen to get Jadey's dinner.
Jadey ate her PopTart on the sofa, then pulled on Lucy's arm, her sign that she was ready for bed. Her aunt picked her up, carrying her back to her room. She laid her on the bed, changing her out of her leotard and into pajamas. She turned on the Disney Princess nightlight that was at the foot of the bed, fighting away any monsters that might try to steal Jadey in the night.
Lucy pulled the covers over Jadey, tucking her in tight, also a precaution against those monsters that they'd decided upon together a few months earlier. She gave Jadey a kiss, then walked to the doorway to turn out the overhead light. "Good night, sweetheart," she said, just loud enough for the child to hear.
"Love you, Auntie Lucy."
She turned the light off, staring at Jadey's dark shape under the pink comforter. Lucy Jane rubbed the tattoo on the inside of her wrist. "I love you, too."
Lucy Jane switched her phone from one hand to the other, then placed it against her cheek, holding it there with her shoulder. She plucked the hair-tie from her niece's fingers and quickly put the girl's hair up into a ponytail. "Hear what, Lauren?" she sighed. Her eyes followed the red-headed little girl as she ran over to meet with her friends. They all sped off to one of the in-floor trampolines and began jumping in succession, filling the large room with their laughter. Lucy smiled, then turned around and left the building.
"Michael beat Larisa's record last night," Lauren said excitedly, hardly seeming to be able to get the news out fast enough.
Lucy pulled open her car door, put her key in the ignition. "That's fantastic, Lauren." She had, actually, seen something about this on the news that morning, but she was in no way going to discuss the subject, even with her friend.
Lauren huffed. "Oh, come on! You have to at least be a little bit proud of or happy for him, Luc!"
"I'm really not," she responded, pulling out of the parking lot and into afternoon traffic. "I have more important things to worry about than the Olympics and, especially, what's going on in Michael's life."
"You're such a party-pooper, Lucy Jane."
Lucy shook her head, wishing desperately to be rid of their current topic of conversation. She wasn't in the mood for Lauren's constant nagging or for the guilt trips Lauren gave her for how she felt about Michael Phelps. The past would forever be the past, and Michael was Lucy's past. In her opinion, in her hopes and dreams, the past was exactly where Michael needed to stay in relation to her and her present life.
After a few seconds of silence, Lauren spoke again, this time softly. "He was your best friend, Lucy."
The smile that had somehow managed to stay on Lucy's face throughout their talk finally slipped from her face. Her hands tightened on the steering wheel until her knuckles turned white and she slammed on the brakes as she came, seemingly suddenly, to a stoplight. "I'll talk to you later, Lauren." She heard her friend begin to say something, but it was too late. She clicked the little red button on her phone and threw the device into the passenger seat.
---
Twenty minutes and one vanilla latte later, Lucy was sat on the couch in her apartment, trying to decide whether or not it would be safe to turn the television on. Even before the Olympics had started it was hard not to hear the name "Michael Phelps" on an almost daily basis. After the Trials, at which Michael had qualified for eight different events, all anyone could talk about was the possibillity of him beating gymnast Larisa Latynina's record of 18 total Olympic medals. All of it made Lucy want to throw up. None of it mattered to her; the Olympics, Michael's medals, his records. There was no point to put a whole bunch of hype into one man, because at the end of the day, no matter what he accomplished in the pool, that's all Michael was: a man. The man who had broken Lucy Jane when she hadn't even known he was capable of doing so.
Lucy didn't turn the t.v. on. Instead, she grabbed her laptop, deciding that it would probably be in her best interests if she got work done on the paper she had due the following Wednesday. Before opening the Word document her essay was saved in, she checked her email. Nothing special or interesting. She logged into her Facebook account. Nothing but Michael's name and face. She exited the browser and opened up her essay, digging deep in her memory bank to find the ideas she'd left off with the previous night.
Mr. Darcy, she typed, is one of those characters who, when left with readers who are hard-pressed to change their minds once they've made up their opinion, is made into a devil.
Lucy smiled. This was her favorite class, all about characterization and the different ways authors created their characters. As an Anthropology major, it was hard to apply her English minor to her major, but the characterization analysis class was one, the only one, in fact, that was completely co-habitual with it. As she went through different time periods in her Anthropology-related courses, learning about human behavior throughout the ages, she could also read different books from different time periods. It's common knowledge: Authors write what they know. Lucy was able to mix her studies in the papers she wrote for her characterization class, and she loved it.
Before she knew it, Lucy Jane was finished with the paper and the alarm on her phone telling her that she had only 25 minutes before her niece's gymnastics class ended and she would have to be there to pick her up was singing in her ear. She saved the document and emailed it to her professor, a week early, then closed the laptop and set it on the coffee table. She grabbed the keys from beside her empty coffee cup, glanced quickly at the t.v., then left the apartment.
The drive to pick Jadey up always seemed much shorter than the one to drop her off. This was probably due to Jadey being worn out after class and having almost nothing to say once she was in the car with her aunt on the way home.
"How was class?" Lucy asked, wrapping her arm around Jadey's bare shoulders in a hug.
Jadey yawned, though it was hardly past supper time. "It was fun. We got to work on the balance beam today, and Ms. Carol said I'm getting a lot better," she said. As her sentence wore on, her lisp became more pronounced. She yawned again before climbing into the backseat of Lucy's car. "Will you watch next time, Aunt Lucy?"
Lucy smiled at her niece in the rearview mirror. "Of course I will, Jadey." She made sure the girl was strapped into her carseat before pulling out of the parking space. Jadey was still too small, the smallest in all of her classes, to sit in a car without at least a booster seat.
"I'm hungry."
"I'll make some macaroni when we get home, alright?"
Jadey nodded, then fell asleep, her head leaning against the side of her seat.
When they got home, Lucy gently woke the sleeping child, grabbing her duffel bag from her hands and putting it over her shoulder. She scooped Jadey, still half-asleep, into her arms, propping her on her hip. As she walked into the apartment she sat Jadey on the couch. "Are you still hungry?" she whispered.
"Can I have a PopTart?" she asked.
Lucy kissed her forehead, dropping the duffel bag next to the couch and walking to the kitchen to get Jadey's dinner.
Jadey ate her PopTart on the sofa, then pulled on Lucy's arm, her sign that she was ready for bed. Her aunt picked her up, carrying her back to her room. She laid her on the bed, changing her out of her leotard and into pajamas. She turned on the Disney Princess nightlight that was at the foot of the bed, fighting away any monsters that might try to steal Jadey in the night.
Lucy pulled the covers over Jadey, tucking her in tight, also a precaution against those monsters that they'd decided upon together a few months earlier. She gave Jadey a kiss, then walked to the doorway to turn out the overhead light. "Good night, sweetheart," she said, just loud enough for the child to hear.
"Love you, Auntie Lucy."
She turned the light off, staring at Jadey's dark shape under the pink comforter. Lucy Jane rubbed the tattoo on the inside of her wrist. "I love you, too."