For the Rest of Our Lives
Three (1999)
The teachers in school question Sally about the new bruises she keeps getting on her legs, and some even on her arms. But Sally always tells them that it's because she's clumsy, and they don't look further into it. Kids are always brutally honest in their eyes. If it was something to be concerned about, Sally would surely tell them.
But somehow I know that those bruises weren't accidental. There's a part of me that senses that something is completely off, but I'm too young to understand why. I pout my lips and furrow my brows in an exaggerated fashion as I stare at her from across the table.
We're sitting at a table with two other kids, all of us supposed to be drawing our favourite animals. Sally has already drawn a mouse, a giraffe, and now she's working on what looks like a snake. I haven't drawn anything. I'm too focused on trying to figure out where the bruises are truly coming from.
"Luna, dear," one of the ladies leading the class says. She startles me out of my stupor and I look up at her with the scowl no longer on my face, and mouth slightly agape. "Is something the matter? You haven't drawn a thing."
I smile at her before looking down at my paper and picking up a crayon. I draw a cat- the best I can do at my current age, anyway. I look back up at the lady and smile again.
"No, Mrs. Pearsons," I tell her. "Just- just couldn't pick an animal. I like them all." Mrs. Pearson smiles warmly back at me and looks at my drawing.
"Aw, that's a lovely drawing of a dog," she says. The corner of my mouth twitches slightly, but I don't correct her. "I'm proud of you. Keep it up, then." She rubs my back gently and then moves on.
I drop the smile from my face and look back over to Sally. She's looking at me now, the dead look in her gaze softened slightly. She knows that I'm thinking about her. She reaches her foot across to mine, nudging gently under the table. We hook our ankles around each other, and focus on our drawings again.
I draw a snake and mouse just like she did, but I don't draw the giraffe. Giraffes are tall and scary to me. I draw a bat instead, giving him overly dramatic fangs.
But somehow I know that those bruises weren't accidental. There's a part of me that senses that something is completely off, but I'm too young to understand why. I pout my lips and furrow my brows in an exaggerated fashion as I stare at her from across the table.
We're sitting at a table with two other kids, all of us supposed to be drawing our favourite animals. Sally has already drawn a mouse, a giraffe, and now she's working on what looks like a snake. I haven't drawn anything. I'm too focused on trying to figure out where the bruises are truly coming from.
"Luna, dear," one of the ladies leading the class says. She startles me out of my stupor and I look up at her with the scowl no longer on my face, and mouth slightly agape. "Is something the matter? You haven't drawn a thing."
I smile at her before looking down at my paper and picking up a crayon. I draw a cat- the best I can do at my current age, anyway. I look back up at the lady and smile again.
"No, Mrs. Pearsons," I tell her. "Just- just couldn't pick an animal. I like them all." Mrs. Pearson smiles warmly back at me and looks at my drawing.
"Aw, that's a lovely drawing of a dog," she says. The corner of my mouth twitches slightly, but I don't correct her. "I'm proud of you. Keep it up, then." She rubs my back gently and then moves on.
I drop the smile from my face and look back over to Sally. She's looking at me now, the dead look in her gaze softened slightly. She knows that I'm thinking about her. She reaches her foot across to mine, nudging gently under the table. We hook our ankles around each other, and focus on our drawings again.
I draw a snake and mouse just like she did, but I don't draw the giraffe. Giraffes are tall and scary to me. I draw a bat instead, giving him overly dramatic fangs.