I'd Rather Shut My Eyes
Contemplate
contemplate, [kon-tuh m-pleyt, -tem-]: verb. To have in view as a future event.
***
When Michaela heard the adults moving downstairs, she stood up suddenly, leaving Charlie to stare at her, a "Neigh!" left half-uttered in the air. She smiled crookedly, then rushed out of the room.
She inspected the hall, trying to figure out which room could be which. The one she had left was without a doubt Charlie's; next to it, the outer house wall and empty space overlooking the entrance hall. Almost directly opposite was an open door, giving a glimpse of a clean white room, large, probably the master bedroom. Along a little further, in front of the stairs, a door turned out to be a linen closet; next to that, a study with a sophisticated computer and work desk, shelves covered with books and certificates lining the walls. Her father obviously worked at home, she could remember him saying he did accounting for some of the local people. Michaela had never had a computer with her mother, she hand-wrote assignments and used books as her resources.
And across from the study, her room. Despite all the thoughts it generated, none of them good, she still wanted another look at it. Creeping inside, she sucked in a breath. She hated it, but it looked so…it reminded her of a proper family. Shaking her head to get rid of the thoughts, she knelt down to find some better clothes than her old dance uniform. After tipping the contents on the floor and trying to sort through them, she heard a voice at the door.
"Sweetie, do you want a shower?" Lucy's high voice reached Michaela's ears. Michaela continued as if she didn't hear her. "Well, there's a bathroom just through that door behind you. Towels already in there." Footsteps came up slowly behind her, and the wooden planks creaked as Lucy knelt beside her.
"Look, I know it's hard moving to a place where you only know family you haven't seen in a long time, but it'll be fine. After your shower, come downstairs and your father will take you downtown to get everything you need."
There was a brief silence before Lucy put her arms around Michaela. Michaela knelt there rigidly, not moving until Lucy got up and left. Then, with anger pouring through her veins and tears sneaking down her cheeks, she pulled out a tangle of underwear and clothes and headed into the bathroom.
***
Standing in the small bathroom, steam rising off both her and the combination shower-bath, Michaela wiped a spot on the mirror clear and proceeded to towel her hair dry. It didn't matter that this produced a frizz ball that would stick until she washed it again. She wasn't going anywhere, after all. She'd just sit in her room until her things were set up.
Dropping the wet towel in a puddle at her feet, covering the cold white tiles with the blue fluffy material, Michaela stood on the towel and proceeded to pull on a white set of underwear, then a black t-shirt and some three quarter pants the colour of old soft tan leather. She slipped on a pair of huge white slippers the size of boots, and left the tiny bathroom.
Lying in the middle of what was now her room, she decided it would definitely be her room. She'd decorate it. But differently. Not cutesy-wutesy frames of ballerinas and family, but scenes of the world. And a giant frame of New York sitting above her bed. Proper shelves, attached to the walls to sit old toys on to remember pleasant childhood days, her hardback novels and old records. A desk for work and to play her grandparents records on the old record player they'd given her. And the floor…rugs?
No. I have a BETTER idea.
Her daydreams were interrupted by her father standing in the doorway.
"Come on honey, we're going to get your things. Go hop in the truck."
Forgetting completely that she definitely, positively wasn't going to leave her room, Michaela made her way out of the room and downstairs to the idling pickup, ideas and plans swirling through her head.
***
When Michaela heard the adults moving downstairs, she stood up suddenly, leaving Charlie to stare at her, a "Neigh!" left half-uttered in the air. She smiled crookedly, then rushed out of the room.
She inspected the hall, trying to figure out which room could be which. The one she had left was without a doubt Charlie's; next to it, the outer house wall and empty space overlooking the entrance hall. Almost directly opposite was an open door, giving a glimpse of a clean white room, large, probably the master bedroom. Along a little further, in front of the stairs, a door turned out to be a linen closet; next to that, a study with a sophisticated computer and work desk, shelves covered with books and certificates lining the walls. Her father obviously worked at home, she could remember him saying he did accounting for some of the local people. Michaela had never had a computer with her mother, she hand-wrote assignments and used books as her resources.
And across from the study, her room. Despite all the thoughts it generated, none of them good, she still wanted another look at it. Creeping inside, she sucked in a breath. She hated it, but it looked so…it reminded her of a proper family. Shaking her head to get rid of the thoughts, she knelt down to find some better clothes than her old dance uniform. After tipping the contents on the floor and trying to sort through them, she heard a voice at the door.
"Sweetie, do you want a shower?" Lucy's high voice reached Michaela's ears. Michaela continued as if she didn't hear her. "Well, there's a bathroom just through that door behind you. Towels already in there." Footsteps came up slowly behind her, and the wooden planks creaked as Lucy knelt beside her.
"Look, I know it's hard moving to a place where you only know family you haven't seen in a long time, but it'll be fine. After your shower, come downstairs and your father will take you downtown to get everything you need."
There was a brief silence before Lucy put her arms around Michaela. Michaela knelt there rigidly, not moving until Lucy got up and left. Then, with anger pouring through her veins and tears sneaking down her cheeks, she pulled out a tangle of underwear and clothes and headed into the bathroom.
***
Standing in the small bathroom, steam rising off both her and the combination shower-bath, Michaela wiped a spot on the mirror clear and proceeded to towel her hair dry. It didn't matter that this produced a frizz ball that would stick until she washed it again. She wasn't going anywhere, after all. She'd just sit in her room until her things were set up.
Dropping the wet towel in a puddle at her feet, covering the cold white tiles with the blue fluffy material, Michaela stood on the towel and proceeded to pull on a white set of underwear, then a black t-shirt and some three quarter pants the colour of old soft tan leather. She slipped on a pair of huge white slippers the size of boots, and left the tiny bathroom.
Lying in the middle of what was now her room, she decided it would definitely be her room. She'd decorate it. But differently. Not cutesy-wutesy frames of ballerinas and family, but scenes of the world. And a giant frame of New York sitting above her bed. Proper shelves, attached to the walls to sit old toys on to remember pleasant childhood days, her hardback novels and old records. A desk for work and to play her grandparents records on the old record player they'd given her. And the floor…rugs?
No. I have a BETTER idea.
Her daydreams were interrupted by her father standing in the doorway.
"Come on honey, we're going to get your things. Go hop in the truck."
Forgetting completely that she definitely, positively wasn't going to leave her room, Michaela made her way out of the room and downstairs to the idling pickup, ideas and plans swirling through her head.