I wrote a fictional story for my daughter during the time of separation for our family. Over the winter that year, I was allowed a weekly phone call; which eventually consisted of hours of video chatting — including; mostly absolute nonsense and filter-switching, but enjoyable nonetheless. I read each chapter to Anna (age 8) over a period of some weeks. This is that story…
– For my daughter; Anna Estelle; Be someone’s hope.
- 🔊 40: “A Life Worth Living,” Chapter 1
- 🔊 41: “A Life Worth Living,” Chapter 2
- 🔊 45: “A Life Worth Living,” Chapter 3
Chapter 4 – The Backpack
The rest of the day seemed to stay covered in gloom. Sandy sat on her bench at lunch but, today she wasn’t reading. She, instead, looked to be mid-daydream, staring out through the lunchroom window as if watching a movie play through her head; no emotion, no smile on her face; no movement at all, really.
The weather even seemed to understand the intense emotional haze of the day and changed its mood like a stage crew changes sets in a play. Clouds rolled in to darken the sky. By lunchtime, the sun of the morning was gone. The world became as helpless as the two girls in my class were. No one was able to escape the tension of the passing moments.
Lexi was way quieter than usual but, she snapped real loudly at Danny Domeeno when he made a joke about her mom and dad not being married.
“They are married!” She shrieked, with a ‘thwack’ of her hand on the back of his head — catching the ELA teacher’s attention as she charged off to the bathroom.
When the bell rang, we all funneled out of the lunchroom and passed Sandy on her bench. She didn’t get up.
Sandy didn’t even move.
“Miss Asher?” Miss Tanner called out to her, “It’s time to go to class,” she said gently.
Sandy turned and stared for a minute, looking, but not appearing to see; her eyes glossed over with invisible pain.
“Miss Asher?” The principal said again, with a little more ‘uumph’ this time, attempting to get her attention.
“Come on dear, let’s go.”
Sandy stood up slowly; then bent down to pick up her shopping bag of books, just under the bench, where she sat.
Just then, Lexi came storming out of the girl’s bathroom, turned a sharp right, and — not seeing her — plowed right into Sandy, tripping both girls up and sending them crashing to the tile.
“Geeze! Move!” cried Lexi, “Dumpster baby!” She yelled as she stormed off, only to be stopped by the same teacher who watched her smack Danny Domeeno, earlier.
That was the last I saw Lexi for the rest of the day.
Sandy got up, wiped her faded, blue Minnie Mouse t-shirt off, and walked straight down the hall into the principal’s office, leaving her plastic bag ‘backpack’ behind. The principal herself walking behind her, had her hand on the small of Sandy’s back as she followed; neither said a word as they disappeared into the office; and that, was the last we saw of Sandy that day, too.
At the end of the day, my mom came to pick me up. We said “hi,” — quickly — to each other as I climbed into the car, but neither one of us said much on the way home. The whole town had a blurry feeling about it; like the way everything feels the moment you wake up — when you open your eyes but can’t see through them, yet. Summer was definitely nearing its end and it really felt like all of Autumn was trying to fit itself into this one, heavy afternoon.
As we rode silently, my mind searched really hard, for anything I could come up with to make myself feel normal again, but with the news about Sandy’s sister — and Lexi and her mom disappearing — I couldn’t rest too long on anything. It was definitely more than just a dreary Monday at school.
My dad was on the phone when I got home, but even he wasn’t talking. He kissed my head as I walked through the kitchen and I didn’t hear him say a word to the person on the other end of the call.
“How was school, Chelss?” He finally asked, a few minutes later, still on the phone as I grabbed a honeybun from the pantry.
“Weird…” I replied.
“Mr. Grishom, and Lexi…aaand Sandy disappeared toda….”
“Yes!” He stated loudly, startling me in the middle of my sentence.
“Every one? … Geeze, who let them sign off on that?”
“Oh she did? … Oh, that’s why …”
He wasn’t talking to me anymore. Probably business.
I didn’t feel like a conversation anyway.
I opened the back door, to watch the rain — which had begun dripping off the back-porch roof. I ripped open the wrapper of the honeybun and slid a chair between my legs.
“Alright, I’ll be there Monday morning, bright and early. Thanks Gene, mm hmmm. Alright.”
He set down his phone.
“Honey! I’m going back to Derringer Construction, on Monday.” He called out to my mom, who sat focused on her phone in the living room with the news blaring — my brother in the playpen, banging a rattle, softly against his head.
“Chelsea, I have to take you to school a little early on Monday, okay? Your teacher isn’t available and your mom’s gonna be busy. That okay with you Dear?”
“Sure.”
I was more mesmerized by the sound of the rain than listening to anything my dad was saying; he wasn’t really talking to me anyway.
“Derringer Construction…” He muttered again, just loud enough for me to catch.
“This whole thing is just a mess.”
The cool breeze from the rain blew into the kitchen as I sat; Sandy’s plastic bag — that I brought home from school — crinkled in the wind. Then I noticed — again — the note I wrote, had still not made it to Sandy. My hand ‘thwapped’ down against the floor, trapping the note between my fingers just before it was swept under the chair.
“I have an idea!,” I shouted to myself;
“Mom! I need a new backpack!”
– God Exists –
Did you know you can subscribe to this blog? If you’re an avid reader, submit an email address and you’ll receive a notification when a new post is published.
Don’t miss out!
Leave a Reply