The next morning it all seemed like a shared bad dream. Mandy had not quite forgotten the shock of seeing the girl with the head wound in the mirror, but she could no longer work out why she had run from the room in terror, and sat on the step half naked and shaking for the better part of an hour. It seemed like an amazingly out of character thing for her to do, really. The two of them had not really spoken about it too much. Partly because Mandy didn't really want to discuss it, and partly because Jaime didn't want to push her into talking about it until she was ready. Mandy would much rather put it down to heatstroke and an over active imagination, than to anything more real - and more sinister - than that.
--
Alyssa stood in the middle of her room, looking around, and wondering how she could improve it. The room was one of three in the granny flat that was attached to the new house. The bedroom cum living room was the largest, and held a futon, a small computer desk, a bookcase and an entertainment centre. The living room gave on to the little kitchen by way of a breakfast bar. The kitchen was not much more than a microwave and a sink. Mandy had put a portable burner in one corner, but Alyssa had not yet bothered to work out how to operate it. She was quite content to join the rest of the family for meals, and so her kitchen held no more than a jar of instant coffee and a bottle of milk that was fast turning sour. An ensuite led off the kitchen.
There was not much room for movement, but the morning sun was slanting in through the curtains and falling in broad strokes across her face early in the morning, so she had resolved to move the futon against a different wall. Unfortunately, in order to do so, she would need to re arrange the whole room. She had sat down at her desk and drawn up a plan, and now she just needed to put it into place. For that, though, she was going to need some help.
--
Belle got home from school and wandered with Rudolph into her bedroom. She dropped her bag on the bed and then went into the kitchen to find something to eat. She was getting bread out to make a sandwich when she noticed voices coming from the other side of the kitchen wall. The ensuite in Alyssa's flat backed onto the kitchen in the house probably because the water supply was shared between the two. Now Belle paused, listening. She couldn't catch the words, but she recognised Alyssa's voice. The other voice was male, but didn't sound like Jaime. Besides, he wasn't home, his car wasn't in the driveway. Mandy wasn't here, she was off on another job interview, Belle guessed. She thought this over while she buttered the bread and layered sliced ham on it. The voices were laughing - Alyssa's voice unnaturally high pitched and the man's voice a low amused chuckle. Belle shoved the sandwich in her mouth, took a bite, and then went out to check on Rudolph's water bowl. She unharnessed him and left him there to drink while she investigated what was going on in the granny flat.
--
Still munching, Belle knocked on the door of Alyssa's flat, "Liss!" she called. From inside came the sound of a thud, scuffling, giggling, and finally footsteps. "What is it Belle?" Alyssa responded. Belle waited for the door to open before she replied.
"Just wondering what all the noise is about. Who's here?"
Alyssa hesitated slightly, and Belle imagined her looking over her shoulder at her guest. "Just a friend." she replied eventually.
Belle raised an eyebrow. "Are you going to introduce me then?" she asked, archly.
"Ahh. Yeah. Belle, this is Luke. Luke, my sister Belle. Luke's just been helping me move some furniture around."
Belle stuck her hand out in what she imagined was Luke's direction. He hadn't spoken yet, so it was difficult to judge. Eventually, he took it, pumped it perfuncturally twice, and said with a forced casualness, "Errr. Nice to meet you, Belle."
Belle smiled, "It's OK. I'm blind. You don't have to pretend you didn't notice." She couldn't be certain if this statement had made any difference to Luke. Or if it, what kind of difference. For someone who seemed quite talkative a few moments ago, he was being rather silent now. Belle had a feeling it wasn't just the fact that she was blind that was causing it. There was something else up, and it made Belle wonder what they were really up to. She didn't think it was just moving furniture somehow. She decided to make a graceful exit, and quiz Alyssa later on. She smiled again, in what she hoped was disarming and playful "Well, nice to meet you, Luke. See you at dinner, Liss."
She turned to go, and was negotiating the single step down into the yard, when a hand fell on her shoulder. Belle wheeled around, a slight smile still playing on her lips.
"Umm ... about dinner," Alyssa said. Belle looked expectant. "I won't be at dinner tonight. Can you tell Mum?"
"Yeah, sure." Belle allowed a pregnant pause to creep in. "What should I tell her?"
"Just ... tell her I'm out at the movies with some friends."
"Friends, huh?" Belle raised the eyebrow again.
Alyssa's voice took on a defensive tone as she said, "Yeah. Friends."
Belle smiled again, with false innocence, "OK, Liss. No problem. I'll tell her."
"Thanks" her sister replied wryly, "that'd be great."
Belle listened to her footsteps retreat into the flat, the door closing behind them. It wasn't long before she caught the murmer of Luke's voice again, and her sister's giggle. Yup, she thought to herself, not much furniture removal going on there. She thought "friends" might just be "friend", too. She gave herself a little chuckle as she walked back into the house, and whispered under breath, "Lyssa and Lu-uke, sittin' in a tree ..." somehow, the next line became "I told it a little worry", and suddenly it wasn't so funny any more.
--
Mandy hadn't quite dared to look into the dressing table mirror since she saw the girl with the head wound. This morning, she had gotten dressed in front of the mirrored doors of the built-in wardrobe instead. She had done her hair in the fogged bathroom mirror - wiping patches of it clear with her bath towel and leaving smears of white thread all over it. Still, like the child who knows the monster is under the bed, and just because they can't see it doesn't mean it isn't, she had expected to see an ethereal figure behind her, had spent more time watching the background rather than her own reflection. She had chided herself over again for being over-cautious, superstitious, childish. She was an adult, she shouldn't be jumping at shadows, she reminded herself. There was no such thing as the boogey man and there was certainly no invisible, mortally wounded children in her bedroom who could be seen only as reflections. The very idea was absurd, the other mirrors in the house proved the fact - they were steadfastly free of ghostly images, except for those of her own house, and herself.
--
Belle got back into the house and found her mother cleaning up in the kitchen. The smell of onion and garlic was in the air, and although she could hear the hum of the oven fan she could not yet feel heat from it.
"What's for dinner?" she asked.
"I'm making a lasagne," Mandy replied, "I've done the mince and the bechamal sauce, I just need to put it all together now." She turned to Belle, throwing the damp tea towel over her shoulder. Belle felt the air move as it displaced around the towel, and shrunk back a little involuntarily. "How does that sound to you?"
Belle gave a smile, although she struggled a little. A deep feeling of unease had come over her. It was related to the discussion she had just had with her sister, but somehow that wasn't the root cause. "Sounds great! When will it be ready?"
"About half past seven, I guess. It's six now." she added.
Belle thought her mother sounded strained, even through the happy, everything is normal kind of tone she was using. "Oh, I was just out speaking to Allyssa," she mentioned casually.
Mandy didn't answer, she had her head in the pantry, hunting out lasagne sheets. Belle could hear tins, jars and boxes all shifting and something falling over. Mandy's under the breath curse, followed by her exclamation when she found what she was looking for. When Belle sensed she had Mandy's attention again, she continued, "Yeah, she said she was going out to a movie." Belle paused, "With a friend."
"What, tonight? Oh, what a pain. Still, never mind, more for us, huh?"
Belle could hear the smile in Mandy's voice, but somehow, she didn't believe it. It was there, but not quite real.
--
Jaime was not worried. Not at all. He was at his desk in the little consulting room, fiddling with an oversized paddlepop stick tongue depresser. He realised that Mandy had seen something in the vanity mirror that had frightened her. A movement in the trees outside, reflected from the window, or a piece of clothing, caught in the breeze. It had given her a fright, and she had reacted badly. It certainly wasn't a cause for alarm. He grabbed one of the wrapped lollies he bribed the children with, unwrapped it and put it in his mouth. She had been in a state of shock, but had come around quickly enough by the time she came inside. Probably the temperature had exacerbated the effects of the shock. She had run outside half naked, sat on the step in the baking heat and then a cool breeze as the sun dipped below the horizon. What might have passed in a few moments under normal circumstances had been made worse under those conditions. Jaime had been trained to think rationally, that every action must have an equal and opposite reaction, that every disease had symptoms, and every medication had side-effects. In this case, his rational mind told him there were perfectly explainable reasons why Mandy had reacted the way she had. He ran the tongue depressor through his fingers, twirling, twirling, the lolly dissolving in his mouth. His sub-conscious, however, tried to convince him otherwise. There was no way the vanity mirror could pick up a reflection of the trees blowing in the breeze, it said. Besides, the day had been still - hot and still. The temperature hadn't dropped that far, it said, not far enough to make the effects of Mandy's shock worse. Jaime attempted to stop this voice of un-reason. This harbinger of truths he didn't want to hear, didn't want to believe. Wouldn't believe. He looked to his computer to check the name of his next patient. Stood, and went to the waiting room to call them. When he returned, patient dutifully trailing behind him, he noticed the strips of balsa wood - what remained of the tongue depressor - on his desk, and quickly swiped away the mess into the bin.
--
Alyssa surveyed her room again, this time feeling more pleased. Luke had helped her move quite a lot of the bigger things, the whole time chatting away about things he and his mates had gotten up to, making her laugh so hard she grew too weak to help. Afterwards, Luke had gone down to the shops, brought back fish and chips, five DVDs and a plastic shopping bag of chocolate bars and bags of lollies. When he got in, he held it up sheepishly and said "I couldn't choose,". They had settled onto the futon - folded up now into a lounge - and watched a DVD together. They had never quite made it to a movie, despite what Allyssa had told Belle. Some time around midnight, after they had put the futon out and fallen asleep side by side, the second movie running unwatched as they slept in front of it, Luke had gotten up, stared silently at Alyssa as she slept on, and pulled the doona up around her shoulders. He stared for a little longer, then stepped out, closing the door silently behind him. Awake again now, basking in the warm glow that the encounter had left her with, Alyssa stood in the sunlit room and decided that she needed a reading nook. A couple of swathes of sheer fabric and some thumb-tacks would do it, she thought.
--
Jaime had commented on Alyssa's absence from the dining table, and Mandy had responded with a raised eyebrow and the fact that she was out at the movies. Jaime pointed out that the lights were on in the granny flat and a strange car parked in the driveway. Mandy gave a strange look and Belle responded with a knowing, "Yes, she told me she's going to the movies ... with friends." Jaime looked confused at first, and then realised what was going on, "Oh," he replied, "with friends, huh? Seems as though the friends have decided to stay in, rather than go out."
Mandy gave a quiet chuckle. She knew exactly what was going on, had seen the lanky teenager go out for half an hour and come back with shopping bags and DVDs. A movie night was definitely what was happening, but not in the way that Alyssa had told Belle it was going to happen. At least, they didn't seem to be going out for it, anyway. Mandy laughed again, it reminded her of when she was a teenager - telling her parents one story and acting out another, thinking they never had a clue. It was only when she became a parent herself that she realised they had known all along, had just gone along with the story she told them in full knowledge of what was going on. And now her eldest was doing it to her too - wheels turn.
--
Memories are malleable. This has been proven through history - false memories implanted; misremembered facts; self-delusion; re-interpretation of history - and seen over and over throughout the human race. People do things, see things, take part in events, and afterwards, the memory of those events become what the person wants them to be. Good memories get coated in a layer of gloss; bad memories surrounded in shadow. Sometimes, memories are changed to suit - if a person is rewarded for a traumatic experience by being pitied and lavished with love, then that traumatic experience will be relived to the point that it no longer resembles fact. The person who remembers it still thinks it is was happened, even though the memory may have changed to be almost unrecognisable. If a good memory is tarnished - by a spurned lover, a death, or an embarresment - then that memory gets redrawn with shadows, and loses some of its sparkle. The remembered event is not what is important. What is important is the way the person doing the remembering does so.
--
On Sunday night, as the sun was sinking low in the sky, Jaime convinced Mandy to go for a walk with him along the beach. Alyssa had surfaced from her flat earlier in the day and sheepishly introduced Luke to them all before taking off in his car for dinner somewhere. Belle had looked on enviously, and then retreated to her room with her laptop. Mandy could hear the sound of her text-to-speech reader as she browsed Facebook behind the closed door.
The beach was deserted at this hour, except for one other couple like themselves, strolling the hard packed sand near the waterline in the gathering dusk. They walked hand-in-hand, not talking, just enjoying the feeling of being together, and being where they were. Mandy watched bare feet as she walked - watched the sand kicked up by her toes fling forward with every step, only to be flattened by the next. She kept an eye out for shells, seaweed, jellyfish and other flotsam as she went, stepping around them when neccesary, stopping and picking up an interesting shell and showing it to Jaime before throwing it back to be found by someone else. After some time of walking silently in this way, Mandy could sense an unease in Jaime and she turned to him to ask what was bothering him. He frowned, breathed in as though to speak, then let it out silently, uncertain how to start. She waited and eventually Jaime found an order for the words he had tumbling around in his head.
"What did you see that day?"
No further explanation was neccesary - Mandy knew exactly what he meant. She was quiet for a while - she, too, had trouble sorting out the words that would describe not just what she saw, but how she felt about it. How to describe the horror of the little girl, the blood pouring from between her fingers, the realism - the solidness - of the vision, the way she had not just seen the blood but smelled it, the fear she now had of mirrors, of reflections. Eventually, she opened her mouth, and let the words tumble out in their own way. She laid her heart and her mind bare, and afterwards felt somewhat cleansed and whole again. Jaime on the other hand, felt worse now that he knew the whole story. It hadn't been the wind, after all.
--
Mandy was at home on Monday, as every other Monday. This afternoon she was preparing a slow-cooked curry and meandering through a crossword puzzle. It sounded terribly idyllic, but Mandy felt like tearing the book apart in frustration. It wasn't that she she found the crosswords challenging, but that they weren't challenging enough, and she couldn't think of anything better to do. She had once heard someone say that they had "read the internet, and it's all boring". At the time she hadn't understood, but now she understood all too well. She had spent time on the computer, time doing crosswords, time cooking, time cleaning and time gardening. She had too much time, and not enough things to do in it. The more time she spent meandering around the house the more she felt alone and worried. Since the conversation with Jaime on the beach she had felt better about what she had seen in the mirror, but she still didn't feel entirely confortable with spending time alone in the house, either. She yearned for one of the girls to walk in and demand food, for Jamie to come home with a kiss and a suggestion for dinner.
She was trying to come up with a ten-letter word for "portend" when the phone rang. She was still sifting through possibilities as she stood and picked up the phone.
"Mandy Tibbots?" the woman on the other end asked.
"Yes, that's me."
"Oh, hi, Mandy. This is Elaine from the Riverview General Practice Centre."
Mandy's mind raced through names and interviews, trying to match the name to a medical centre. She had not quite managed this when the woman continued, "You came in and saw us last week, and we would like to offer you the position."
"Oh!" Mandy replied, surprised, "That's great!"
"Yes, we would love to have you on board, Mandy. When can you come in and get the details sorted out?"
Mandy floated through the rest of call, arranging to go to the surgery the next morning and pick up paperwork and a uniform. For the first time in days, ethereal figures in mirrors seemed a world away from reality. Which is exactly where they belonged, Mandy thought.
Slight setback
For those of you who are reading along (and my stats would indicate that there is more of you than I ever expected!) I would like to offer my apologies for the short break in transmission. I had a lovely birthday on Thursday - an afternoon of shopping followed by dinner with friends and family at my all time favourite restaurant. Unfortunately, the next morning saw me awake with possibly the worst flu I have had in years (and no it wasn't the normal sort of 'flu' you would expect to get after a few glasses of wine!). Anyway, it has conspired to mean that my word count, which was just keeping up with my daily goals, has now slumped to an all time low. I am now about 8000 words behind where I need to be.
Anyhow, I'm on the mend now, and can stare at the computer for longer than a few minutes before my head threatens to explode (or having to blow my nose - does anyone have any idea how hard to is to maintain a train of thought when you have to blow your nose every five seconds?) so instead of blogging - the Great Procrastinator(TM) - I am going to get to NaNoing.
To all those other NaNoers out there - may you be blessed with good health and voluminous word counts!
Set to!
Anyhow, I'm on the mend now, and can stare at the computer for longer than a few minutes before my head threatens to explode (or having to blow my nose - does anyone have any idea how hard to is to maintain a train of thought when you have to blow your nose every five seconds?) so instead of blogging - the Great Procrastinator(TM) - I am going to get to NaNoing.
To all those other NaNoers out there - may you be blessed with good health and voluminous word counts!
Set to!
Behind These Eyes - Part Five
Mandy had been at a job interview. She had decided that she needed a job in order to keep her sanity. She had worked all her life, with only minimal time off when the children were born. That and the last ten years of constant struggle just to keep food on the table had ingrained in her mind that to stay at home all day was something akin to death by slowly sinking in to insanity. She had never aspired to be a 'kept woman', a 'society lady' or a 'woman of means'. The idea repelled her, in fact. Of course, it would also be nice to have her own money again, and to be able to use it buy things she wanted, rather than the bare neccesities, without having to ask Jaime for 'pin money'. Add to that the somewhat depressing thought that, if her relationship did happen to fall apart again, that she would have a nest egg to help her, and the deal was sealed. She had enjoyed her receptionist job at the medical centre in the old place, and so it was natural to continue searching for the same type of work again.
She walked in, still in her best outfit, and put her handbag down on the table with a bump. All she could think about was how desperately she wanted to get out of these pantyhose. It was a hot day, and the pantyhouse weren't helping. She went into the bedroom, shedding her jacket and shirt as she went. She sat on the edge of the bed to remove her heels, then peeled her pantyhose down off her legs. She dumped the dirty clothes into the basket, and sat down at her vanity to wipe her makeup off. The vanity was one of the few pieces of furniture that she had kept when they moved into the new house. It was in an art deco style, with a full mirror that wrapped onto two wings. The mirror was spotted with age, but still very serviceable.
Rummaging through drawers for makeup remover and a cotton pad, Mandy let her mind drift over the interview. It had been rather terrible, the heat had made it hard to concentrate, and the little room was stifling. She kept finding herself wanting to jump up and open the window, and having to hold herself back. But she had answered the interviewer's questions, possibly not as well as she could have. She reasoned that she didn't really want to work in a place without air conditioning, at any rate. Not in this climate.
With the bottle of makeup remover in hand, Mandy straightened and began unscrewing the lid. She poured the liquid onto the cotton wool and lifted her eyes to the mirror. She had already taken the first swipe at her eye makeup when she noticed the figure standing behind her own reflection, and she turned quickly, her heart pounding, but there was no one there. Mandy frowned, thought it must have been a trick of the light. She turned back to the mirror, only to see the same figure standing there, but this time the girl's hands were to her head, blood gushing through her fingers. Mandy screamed, wheeled around again and, without looking to check again if the girl was in the room or not, fled from the bedroom. When Jaime arrived home over an hour later, she was still sitting at the bottom of the stairs, the door locked behind her, half dressed and with her makeup smeared across her face. She still held the now dry cotton pad in her hand.
--
Jaime sat with her on the bottom stair, the light fading around them, and tried to work out what had happened. Mandy would not speak at first, would only allow him to hold her, to stroke her hair. He didn't want to ask directly what had happened, afraid it would just upset her further, so instead he tried to coax her to come inside, let him make her a cup of tea. She was shivering -how much from the chill in the early evening air, and how much from whatever shock she had experienced he could not guess. Eventually, though, she nodded against his chest, and half supported, half carried her into the kitchen. He got her seated at the table, and watched her as he moved around making a cup of tea for her. She was curled in on herself, still shivering, and casting wary glances towards the bedroom. As he waited for the water in the kettle to slowly rise to a boil, Jaime walked behind Mandy, rubbed her bare arms, and told her that he was just going to go and get her a jacket. She nodded mutely but he noticed that her eyes were glued on him as he moved towards the door.
He found the room just as it should be. Jaime wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but given that Mandy's strange reactions seemed to be centreing on the room, he had expected to see something out of the ordinary. A pair of Mandy's heels lay on the floor near the bed, the chair from the vanity was pulled out slightly, the doona cover slightly rumpled in one spot. Nothing out of the ordinary. He opened the wardrobe door cautiously, half expecting something to leap out at him, simultaeneously chiding himself for such B-grade horror movie ideas, but still not quite convincing himself. When the wardrobe, too, appeared perfectly normal, he found a zippered jumper of Mandy's, closed the wardrobe door, and headed back out to the kitchen.
Mandy must have been staring at the door the whole time he had been in the bedroom. Her eyes locked with his the instant he walked back into the room, relief flooding them almost instantly. He wrapped the jacket around her shoulders and she wriggled into them. Jaime folded her into his arms and kissed her, a lingering kiss that said more about his deep affection for her than words ever could. She let herself be taken away by it. He had just proven, without saying a thing, that there was nothing to fear in the bedroom. Whatever she had seen in the mirror had been her imagination running away with her. Maybe the sun had gotten to her. Suddenly, she felt a little ashamed, letting her imagination get the better of her, and giving Jaime a terrible fright, finding her like that. When the kiss eventually ended, Mandy almost felt like her normal self again. She gave Jaime a little smile that was self-deprecating and apologetic, and he returned the smile with one of his own - slightly perplexed, but pleased to see her smile, all the same. Still unwilling to talk about the incident, Mandy moved towards him again, seeking his lips. Jaime responded, and they kissed again, harder this time.
In the kitchen, the kettle boiled, clicked off, and the water started to cool again.
She walked in, still in her best outfit, and put her handbag down on the table with a bump. All she could think about was how desperately she wanted to get out of these pantyhose. It was a hot day, and the pantyhouse weren't helping. She went into the bedroom, shedding her jacket and shirt as she went. She sat on the edge of the bed to remove her heels, then peeled her pantyhose down off her legs. She dumped the dirty clothes into the basket, and sat down at her vanity to wipe her makeup off. The vanity was one of the few pieces of furniture that she had kept when they moved into the new house. It was in an art deco style, with a full mirror that wrapped onto two wings. The mirror was spotted with age, but still very serviceable.
Rummaging through drawers for makeup remover and a cotton pad, Mandy let her mind drift over the interview. It had been rather terrible, the heat had made it hard to concentrate, and the little room was stifling. She kept finding herself wanting to jump up and open the window, and having to hold herself back. But she had answered the interviewer's questions, possibly not as well as she could have. She reasoned that she didn't really want to work in a place without air conditioning, at any rate. Not in this climate.
With the bottle of makeup remover in hand, Mandy straightened and began unscrewing the lid. She poured the liquid onto the cotton wool and lifted her eyes to the mirror. She had already taken the first swipe at her eye makeup when she noticed the figure standing behind her own reflection, and she turned quickly, her heart pounding, but there was no one there. Mandy frowned, thought it must have been a trick of the light. She turned back to the mirror, only to see the same figure standing there, but this time the girl's hands were to her head, blood gushing through her fingers. Mandy screamed, wheeled around again and, without looking to check again if the girl was in the room or not, fled from the bedroom. When Jaime arrived home over an hour later, she was still sitting at the bottom of the stairs, the door locked behind her, half dressed and with her makeup smeared across her face. She still held the now dry cotton pad in her hand.
--
Jaime sat with her on the bottom stair, the light fading around them, and tried to work out what had happened. Mandy would not speak at first, would only allow him to hold her, to stroke her hair. He didn't want to ask directly what had happened, afraid it would just upset her further, so instead he tried to coax her to come inside, let him make her a cup of tea. She was shivering -how much from the chill in the early evening air, and how much from whatever shock she had experienced he could not guess. Eventually, though, she nodded against his chest, and half supported, half carried her into the kitchen. He got her seated at the table, and watched her as he moved around making a cup of tea for her. She was curled in on herself, still shivering, and casting wary glances towards the bedroom. As he waited for the water in the kettle to slowly rise to a boil, Jaime walked behind Mandy, rubbed her bare arms, and told her that he was just going to go and get her a jacket. She nodded mutely but he noticed that her eyes were glued on him as he moved towards the door.
He found the room just as it should be. Jaime wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but given that Mandy's strange reactions seemed to be centreing on the room, he had expected to see something out of the ordinary. A pair of Mandy's heels lay on the floor near the bed, the chair from the vanity was pulled out slightly, the doona cover slightly rumpled in one spot. Nothing out of the ordinary. He opened the wardrobe door cautiously, half expecting something to leap out at him, simultaeneously chiding himself for such B-grade horror movie ideas, but still not quite convincing himself. When the wardrobe, too, appeared perfectly normal, he found a zippered jumper of Mandy's, closed the wardrobe door, and headed back out to the kitchen.
Mandy must have been staring at the door the whole time he had been in the bedroom. Her eyes locked with his the instant he walked back into the room, relief flooding them almost instantly. He wrapped the jacket around her shoulders and she wriggled into them. Jaime folded her into his arms and kissed her, a lingering kiss that said more about his deep affection for her than words ever could. She let herself be taken away by it. He had just proven, without saying a thing, that there was nothing to fear in the bedroom. Whatever she had seen in the mirror had been her imagination running away with her. Maybe the sun had gotten to her. Suddenly, she felt a little ashamed, letting her imagination get the better of her, and giving Jaime a terrible fright, finding her like that. When the kiss eventually ended, Mandy almost felt like her normal self again. She gave Jaime a little smile that was self-deprecating and apologetic, and he returned the smile with one of his own - slightly perplexed, but pleased to see her smile, all the same. Still unwilling to talk about the incident, Mandy moved towards him again, seeking his lips. Jaime responded, and they kissed again, harder this time.
In the kitchen, the kettle boiled, clicked off, and the water started to cool again.
Behind These Eyes - Part Four
Belle had still felt very strange, even hours after the weird event with the worry doll. She had taken a shower immeditaely afterwards, trying to rid herself of the sticky feel of blood on her face, in her hair, on her skin. She had turned the water as hot as she could stand it, scrubbed at her skin until it burned, but still the sensation lingered. It would have been a relief to be able to see her skin in the mirror, see that it looked normal - whatever normal looked like, she thought wryly - because her normally reliable senses were still fooling her into thinking that she was daubed with blood. She wondered where the little doll was now, if Alyssa had taken it back to the beach, or if it was still in the house somewhere. She could almost sense that the doll wasn't far away, although that was of course nonsense. How could a little scrap of twig with a tiny cloth skirt be signalling its presence to her. But then, how could a little scrap of twig have made her react in the way she had? It was all nonsense, she told herself, but somehow the thought didn't ring true.
--
I was still quite young when I realised that people reacted one of two ways to me. Sometimes they would either fuss over me, be extra attentive, and generally over compensate for the fact that they found my disability daunting and didn't know how to deal with it. These people were generally well intentioned, and over time they would normally start to relax and eventually the difference would fade, the awkwardness would disappear. The other type never seemed to change - they were the ones who spoke louder, because apparently your ears don't work properly when you're blind. They were the ones who felt they had to explain things to you, because apparently you have the mental capacity of one much younger when your eyes don't work. I always appreciate it when people describe things for me - like the location of the pedestrian crossing, the difference between two possible jackets, even something as banal as where the foods are on my plate, or if I have a stain on my shirt - those things make my life a lot easier. But why do some insist on also making a choice for me, apparently because I am incapable of doing so for myself?
--
Over the next week, the worry doll was gradually forgotten. Although all had seen the effect it had on Belle, after a while their memories faded, and the incident became a mere curiosity, rather than the mystery it seemed at first. Memories - misremembered, subconsioucly altered, blithely cross-patched - changed the event until it was just a strange reaction to a perfectly ordinary occurence. The worry doll was not mentioned again, and even Belle didn't spare it an extra thought after some time. Alyssa, busy with school and friends, never quite got around to taking the doll back to the beach, instead it languished on the bookshelf for a while, until it got knocked by a book, and fell down behind the shelf. It wasn't missed.
--
School was back in. Belle had started year ten in a new place, Alyssa had launched into first year chemistry. Jaime had begun in a small practise not far from their home, and Mandy found herself home alone most days. Unaccustomed to the amount of spare time she suddenly found herself with, she scoured newspapers for community groups to join, jobs to apply for and charities that required volunteers. Belle was finally given a guide dog, after more than five years on the waiting list. After the two of them spent some time together in the dog's foster home, Belle brought home a golden labrador retriever named Rudolph, so named for reasons no one really knew. With her new friend and the ability Rudoplh gave her to get around unaided, Belle began to explore the area around the house more. Life settled in to a new routine that revolved around Jaime's shifts, Alyssa's lectures and Belle's visits to friends and the shopping centre.
--
Belle was sitting on the beach chatting with her friend Kayla, Rudolph sitting obediantly between them, cadging pats from both girls. Belle knew what he really wanted was to go for a swim, and she decided to take his harness off and let him very soon, but right now she just wanted to sit. Her feet were buried in the warm sand, her hand was buried in Rudolph's warm fur and they were chatting about nothing in particular. She could smell sand and salt, hot dog and the very faint smell of Kayla's perfume. She felt relaxed, happy, and she didn't want to get up in case it broke the spell. Eventually though Rudolph turned towards her, whined a little, and stood slightly, "let's go," he was saying. Belle smiled, she had very quickly fallen in love with the labrador, and asked Kayla to come with her down to the water's edge. As they walked over the hot sand, Rudolph pulled harder on the harness, and when she felt the hard-packed, wet sand underneath her feet, Belle knelt and unstrapped him, told him to go and have a swim. Rudolph ran off without hesitation and Belle smiled as she heard him yapping in the waves. Kayla laughed, a sweet high laugh, "Oh I wish you could see him, Belle!" she said, "he looks as though he is enjoying himself so much."
Belle laughed too, "I can hear him, I know he is. I'm glad he found me. I don't think he would have been as happy in the city."
"That's true. You two are great friends already, aren't you?"
"Yeah, we sure are." Belle agreed.
Together, they stood on the beach for a while, waves lapping over their ankles and their feet gradually sinking into the wet sand. When he was thoroughly wet and compeltely worn out, Rudolph came back and Belle let him run free for a while to dry his fur before replacing the leather harness. He would dart out along the beach, yapping at the waves, then race back to Belle. He had already learned that the beach was the only place he wasn't expected to lead, but he was still a guide dog at heart - he wouldn't go too far away without Belle. They were getting ready to leave and head back home, and Belle called to Rudolph to get his harness back on. She knelt and patted him to make sure he was properly dry, but as she went to put the harness over his head, he kept on nuzzling her hand instead. Kayla looked down, "Oh he's got something, Belle. He's giving it you."
"What is it, Rudolph?" Belle asked, holding her hand out. The dog dropped something into her palm and immediately Belle felt a pain in her chest. She dropped the thing Rudolph had given, brought her hands to her chest and started to cough and splutter. At the same instant, Kayla asked what the problem was, and Rudolph began to howl. Almost as soon as it had arrived, the pain passed, Belle caught her breath again, and she lay curled in a ball on the grass.
"What the ... what happened, Belle? Are you OK? Should I call a ... I don't know ... an ambulance or something?"
Belle could only nod, she was fine, she just needed time to recover from the shock, but suddenly a fragment of a rhyme occured to her:
I had a pretty little dolly
I told it my little worry
It wrapped around in her mind, repeating and replaying, but not making any sense, but a connection had been made in Belle's mind, and she scrabbled around in the sand. "Can you find it, Kayla?" she asked
"Find what?" Kayla replied, mystified.
"What it was that Rudolph tried to give me." Both girls, with the dog's negligable assistance, scrabbled in the sand for some time, but the item could not be found. All the same, Belle knew what it was. It was a worry doll. Maybe not the same one as Alyssa had found months ago, but a worry doll all the same.
I had a pretty little dolly ...
--
--
I was still quite young when I realised that people reacted one of two ways to me. Sometimes they would either fuss over me, be extra attentive, and generally over compensate for the fact that they found my disability daunting and didn't know how to deal with it. These people were generally well intentioned, and over time they would normally start to relax and eventually the difference would fade, the awkwardness would disappear. The other type never seemed to change - they were the ones who spoke louder, because apparently your ears don't work properly when you're blind. They were the ones who felt they had to explain things to you, because apparently you have the mental capacity of one much younger when your eyes don't work. I always appreciate it when people describe things for me - like the location of the pedestrian crossing, the difference between two possible jackets, even something as banal as where the foods are on my plate, or if I have a stain on my shirt - those things make my life a lot easier. But why do some insist on also making a choice for me, apparently because I am incapable of doing so for myself?
--
Over the next week, the worry doll was gradually forgotten. Although all had seen the effect it had on Belle, after a while their memories faded, and the incident became a mere curiosity, rather than the mystery it seemed at first. Memories - misremembered, subconsioucly altered, blithely cross-patched - changed the event until it was just a strange reaction to a perfectly ordinary occurence. The worry doll was not mentioned again, and even Belle didn't spare it an extra thought after some time. Alyssa, busy with school and friends, never quite got around to taking the doll back to the beach, instead it languished on the bookshelf for a while, until it got knocked by a book, and fell down behind the shelf. It wasn't missed.
--
School was back in. Belle had started year ten in a new place, Alyssa had launched into first year chemistry. Jaime had begun in a small practise not far from their home, and Mandy found herself home alone most days. Unaccustomed to the amount of spare time she suddenly found herself with, she scoured newspapers for community groups to join, jobs to apply for and charities that required volunteers. Belle was finally given a guide dog, after more than five years on the waiting list. After the two of them spent some time together in the dog's foster home, Belle brought home a golden labrador retriever named Rudolph, so named for reasons no one really knew. With her new friend and the ability Rudoplh gave her to get around unaided, Belle began to explore the area around the house more. Life settled in to a new routine that revolved around Jaime's shifts, Alyssa's lectures and Belle's visits to friends and the shopping centre.
--
Belle was sitting on the beach chatting with her friend Kayla, Rudolph sitting obediantly between them, cadging pats from both girls. Belle knew what he really wanted was to go for a swim, and she decided to take his harness off and let him very soon, but right now she just wanted to sit. Her feet were buried in the warm sand, her hand was buried in Rudolph's warm fur and they were chatting about nothing in particular. She could smell sand and salt, hot dog and the very faint smell of Kayla's perfume. She felt relaxed, happy, and she didn't want to get up in case it broke the spell. Eventually though Rudolph turned towards her, whined a little, and stood slightly, "let's go," he was saying. Belle smiled, she had very quickly fallen in love with the labrador, and asked Kayla to come with her down to the water's edge. As they walked over the hot sand, Rudolph pulled harder on the harness, and when she felt the hard-packed, wet sand underneath her feet, Belle knelt and unstrapped him, told him to go and have a swim. Rudolph ran off without hesitation and Belle smiled as she heard him yapping in the waves. Kayla laughed, a sweet high laugh, "Oh I wish you could see him, Belle!" she said, "he looks as though he is enjoying himself so much."
Belle laughed too, "I can hear him, I know he is. I'm glad he found me. I don't think he would have been as happy in the city."
"That's true. You two are great friends already, aren't you?"
"Yeah, we sure are." Belle agreed.
Together, they stood on the beach for a while, waves lapping over their ankles and their feet gradually sinking into the wet sand. When he was thoroughly wet and compeltely worn out, Rudolph came back and Belle let him run free for a while to dry his fur before replacing the leather harness. He would dart out along the beach, yapping at the waves, then race back to Belle. He had already learned that the beach was the only place he wasn't expected to lead, but he was still a guide dog at heart - he wouldn't go too far away without Belle. They were getting ready to leave and head back home, and Belle called to Rudolph to get his harness back on. She knelt and patted him to make sure he was properly dry, but as she went to put the harness over his head, he kept on nuzzling her hand instead. Kayla looked down, "Oh he's got something, Belle. He's giving it you."
"What is it, Rudolph?" Belle asked, holding her hand out. The dog dropped something into her palm and immediately Belle felt a pain in her chest. She dropped the thing Rudolph had given, brought her hands to her chest and started to cough and splutter. At the same instant, Kayla asked what the problem was, and Rudolph began to howl. Almost as soon as it had arrived, the pain passed, Belle caught her breath again, and she lay curled in a ball on the grass.
"What the ... what happened, Belle? Are you OK? Should I call a ... I don't know ... an ambulance or something?"
Belle could only nod, she was fine, she just needed time to recover from the shock, but suddenly a fragment of a rhyme occured to her:
I had a pretty little dolly
I told it my little worry
It wrapped around in her mind, repeating and replaying, but not making any sense, but a connection had been made in Belle's mind, and she scrabbled around in the sand. "Can you find it, Kayla?" she asked
"Find what?" Kayla replied, mystified.
"What it was that Rudolph tried to give me." Both girls, with the dog's negligable assistance, scrabbled in the sand for some time, but the item could not be found. All the same, Belle knew what it was. It was a worry doll. Maybe not the same one as Alyssa had found months ago, but a worry doll all the same.
I had a pretty little dolly ...
--
Behind These Eyes - Part Three
As the tide rose and the heat started to seep from the air, they gathered their towels and walked back to the house. They picked at the leftovers of Christmas lunch, still too full to want much more than that, and Belle challenged everyone to a game of Monopoly. Alyssa declined, and retired to her room to call her friends and catch up on gossip, but Mandy joined in. Belle went easy on them, but won anyway. Belle, especially, went to bed happy, and slept late.
Alyssa was dancing, watching her reflection in the big mirrors that lined the dance studio. It was the same dance school that she had gone to as a young girl -still in preschool - but Alyssa wasn't that preschooler anymore. She was wearing a pink leotard and soft shoes with ribbons. She had loved those ribbons as a little girl, loved watching her feet in the mirrors as she spun. Now, in this dream, she spun, watching her feet, but as she did so she noticed a reflection in the mirror behind the spinning ribbons. A hand, sliding along the floor, the fingers skeletal, the nails pointed and long, reaching for her ankles. Alyssa knew it was only a reflection, but a reflection of what? She spun faster, pirouetting out of reach of the hand, but still it came, and with no body to follow, just a long endless snaking arm. Alyssa shrieked, wanting to run. Run and run away from these clutching fingers and their snake-like arm. But she found that the harder she tried to stop turning, the faster she spun. Before long, she was spinning so fast the world became a blur, and she could no longer see the arm. Suddenly, her vision exploded into a sea of red, and she saw the hand grasping for her eyes instead of her ankles. She screamed, in real life as well as in her dream, and woke up with a start. She sat up in bed, her eyes wide with fright, her brow sweaty and her hands trembling, and a funny, creepy little rhyme the only solid thing in her mind:
I had a pretty little dolly
I told it my little worry
But then it went red
And now they're all dead
I am so terribly sorry
Alyssa trembled, the rhyme running through her mind over and over again. Eventually, sleep far away, she got out of bed and went for a walk in the dawn light, trying to clear not the nightmare so much as the rhyme from her head.
In the morning, when Belle eventually stumbled out of bed, the house was silent. She went into the kitchen, still feeling her way around the strange house, getting used to where the corners and walls were. She found the fridge, opened it, and found the ham in its damp bag by smell more than touch. She pulled it out, and carefully cut a few slices with a knife from the block on the bench. She was making toast when she heard laughing from outside, then the slamming of the door. Her mother and Jamie were outside on the verandah, and Alyssa had just arrived from somewhere, Belle surmised. When her toast was ready, she put the ham on top, and holding breakfast with one hand and feeling her way with the other, made her way out to the front of the house.
Alyssa had been down to the beach, and was washing her feet under the tap. Belle could smell the salt as she did it.
"Morning Sleepy head," Mandy said as Belle sat down at the table, "did you find everything in the kitchen OK?"
"Yeah, I'm getting used to it already." Belle responded. Alyssa climbed up on to the verandah and made to snatch a piece of Belle's toast. Belle moved the plate and smacked at her hand before she had a chance, and Alyssa laughed, "I have no idea how you do that, Belle."
"I can smell your evil intentions," she retorted.
Alyssa gave a playful pout as she dropped into the only empty chair. She quickly jumped up again to grab something out of her jeans pocket. She sat again and handed it to Belle, using her other hand to guide Belle's to the tiny item.
"What is it?" Belle asked. Before Alyssa could respond, Belle yelped and jumped out of her seat. She barely noticed as the chair fell back on the ground with a bang. When the little trinket had hit her palm, she had felt as though someone had poured hot fluid over her head. She could smell, even taste, the copper of blood and now she scrubbed at her face to get rid of the sensation. Almost as soon as it had came, it was gone, although she could still feel the rush of adrenaline through her veins.
Alyssa, Mandy and Jamie had all jumped up when Belle did, and Mandy had grabbed Belle, as though to protect her from whatever it was that Alyssa had given her. Now, the fear turned to anger, and she rounded on Alyssa, yelling for her to tell her what had just happened. Alyssa, shocked, just shook her head and stammered. She picked the trinket up off the table, gingerly, as though she thought it might bite - after all, it seemed to have bitten Belle - and held it out to her mother with a trembling hand. Mandy peered at it, not willing to touch it. It was very small, a tiny little piece of twig lying in Alyssa's hand, with a scrap of cloth wrapped around one end. Mandy frowned, "it's a little doll," she said, questioning. She looked from the doll to Alyssa's shocked face, then to Belle, who was still standing, but who seemed to have mostly recovered, then to Jaime, who just looked confused and a bit bewildered.
"It's a worry doll, I think. I found it on the beach this morning, someone must have dropped it. I ... I thought Belle would like it."
Belle felt strange. Her heart rate had returned to normal now, but the experience still lingered. Alyssa and her mother were saying it was a little doll. She'd heard about worry dolls - a friend of hers had had a set back when they were in primary school. Little dolls made out of twigs or cardboard, with colourful outfits made from scraps of fabric. They came from Guatemala, and the legend was that if you told your worries to the doll. and left it under your pillow, the doll would worry for you, so you didn't have to do it yourself. She had played with those dolls all those years ago, and never experienced anything like this before. Alyssa seemed to have no trouble holding it, she had picked it up and carried it in her pocket, held it in her hand when she gave it to Belle. What was different about this doll, that it had given her such a scare?
The doll sat in the middle of the table now, no one quite willing to pick it up, although all - with the exception of Belle - leaned in towards to get a better look. Alyssa picked up Belle's chair, and Belle thanked her quietly, and plopped herself back down. An awkward silence had descended.
Eventually, Jaime picked up the newspaper, folded it, and stood, "I'm going to go and get started on the mowing". He leant down close to Alyssa as he walked behind her and said softly, "it might be a good idea to take the doll back where you found it, huh?". Alyssa nodded mutely.
--
Alyssa had intended to take it back to the beach. She thought she'd build a little sandcastle and poke the doll down into the top. Eventually the wind or the sea would claim it, take it back to wherever it had come from. For now though, she took it and propped it on the top of the bookshelf in her little unit, leaning against a textbook. Why had the doll had that strange effect on Belle? It didn't matter which way she turned the events, she couldn't get them to make sense. It was like one of those logic puzzles, with an answer filled out wrong. Every time she thought she'd figured something out, it invalidated an answer she already had. And that rhyme - but then it went red, and now they're all dead - was still spinning, spinning in her mind. Alyssa turned the television on, hoping to drown it out but still - and now they're all dead, now they're all dead - she couldn't shake the rhyme, or the cold chill that had persisted since she woke up in the early hours.
Alyssa was dancing, watching her reflection in the big mirrors that lined the dance studio. It was the same dance school that she had gone to as a young girl -still in preschool - but Alyssa wasn't that preschooler anymore. She was wearing a pink leotard and soft shoes with ribbons. She had loved those ribbons as a little girl, loved watching her feet in the mirrors as she spun. Now, in this dream, she spun, watching her feet, but as she did so she noticed a reflection in the mirror behind the spinning ribbons. A hand, sliding along the floor, the fingers skeletal, the nails pointed and long, reaching for her ankles. Alyssa knew it was only a reflection, but a reflection of what? She spun faster, pirouetting out of reach of the hand, but still it came, and with no body to follow, just a long endless snaking arm. Alyssa shrieked, wanting to run. Run and run away from these clutching fingers and their snake-like arm. But she found that the harder she tried to stop turning, the faster she spun. Before long, she was spinning so fast the world became a blur, and she could no longer see the arm. Suddenly, her vision exploded into a sea of red, and she saw the hand grasping for her eyes instead of her ankles. She screamed, in real life as well as in her dream, and woke up with a start. She sat up in bed, her eyes wide with fright, her brow sweaty and her hands trembling, and a funny, creepy little rhyme the only solid thing in her mind:
I had a pretty little dolly
I told it my little worry
But then it went red
And now they're all dead
I am so terribly sorry
Alyssa trembled, the rhyme running through her mind over and over again. Eventually, sleep far away, she got out of bed and went for a walk in the dawn light, trying to clear not the nightmare so much as the rhyme from her head.
In the morning, when Belle eventually stumbled out of bed, the house was silent. She went into the kitchen, still feeling her way around the strange house, getting used to where the corners and walls were. She found the fridge, opened it, and found the ham in its damp bag by smell more than touch. She pulled it out, and carefully cut a few slices with a knife from the block on the bench. She was making toast when she heard laughing from outside, then the slamming of the door. Her mother and Jamie were outside on the verandah, and Alyssa had just arrived from somewhere, Belle surmised. When her toast was ready, she put the ham on top, and holding breakfast with one hand and feeling her way with the other, made her way out to the front of the house.
Alyssa had been down to the beach, and was washing her feet under the tap. Belle could smell the salt as she did it.
"Morning Sleepy head," Mandy said as Belle sat down at the table, "did you find everything in the kitchen OK?"
"Yeah, I'm getting used to it already." Belle responded. Alyssa climbed up on to the verandah and made to snatch a piece of Belle's toast. Belle moved the plate and smacked at her hand before she had a chance, and Alyssa laughed, "I have no idea how you do that, Belle."
"I can smell your evil intentions," she retorted.
Alyssa gave a playful pout as she dropped into the only empty chair. She quickly jumped up again to grab something out of her jeans pocket. She sat again and handed it to Belle, using her other hand to guide Belle's to the tiny item.
"What is it?" Belle asked. Before Alyssa could respond, Belle yelped and jumped out of her seat. She barely noticed as the chair fell back on the ground with a bang. When the little trinket had hit her palm, she had felt as though someone had poured hot fluid over her head. She could smell, even taste, the copper of blood and now she scrubbed at her face to get rid of the sensation. Almost as soon as it had came, it was gone, although she could still feel the rush of adrenaline through her veins.
Alyssa, Mandy and Jamie had all jumped up when Belle did, and Mandy had grabbed Belle, as though to protect her from whatever it was that Alyssa had given her. Now, the fear turned to anger, and she rounded on Alyssa, yelling for her to tell her what had just happened. Alyssa, shocked, just shook her head and stammered. She picked the trinket up off the table, gingerly, as though she thought it might bite - after all, it seemed to have bitten Belle - and held it out to her mother with a trembling hand. Mandy peered at it, not willing to touch it. It was very small, a tiny little piece of twig lying in Alyssa's hand, with a scrap of cloth wrapped around one end. Mandy frowned, "it's a little doll," she said, questioning. She looked from the doll to Alyssa's shocked face, then to Belle, who was still standing, but who seemed to have mostly recovered, then to Jaime, who just looked confused and a bit bewildered.
"It's a worry doll, I think. I found it on the beach this morning, someone must have dropped it. I ... I thought Belle would like it."
Belle felt strange. Her heart rate had returned to normal now, but the experience still lingered. Alyssa and her mother were saying it was a little doll. She'd heard about worry dolls - a friend of hers had had a set back when they were in primary school. Little dolls made out of twigs or cardboard, with colourful outfits made from scraps of fabric. They came from Guatemala, and the legend was that if you told your worries to the doll. and left it under your pillow, the doll would worry for you, so you didn't have to do it yourself. She had played with those dolls all those years ago, and never experienced anything like this before. Alyssa seemed to have no trouble holding it, she had picked it up and carried it in her pocket, held it in her hand when she gave it to Belle. What was different about this doll, that it had given her such a scare?
The doll sat in the middle of the table now, no one quite willing to pick it up, although all - with the exception of Belle - leaned in towards to get a better look. Alyssa picked up Belle's chair, and Belle thanked her quietly, and plopped herself back down. An awkward silence had descended.
Eventually, Jaime picked up the newspaper, folded it, and stood, "I'm going to go and get started on the mowing". He leant down close to Alyssa as he walked behind her and said softly, "it might be a good idea to take the doll back where you found it, huh?". Alyssa nodded mutely.
--
Alyssa had intended to take it back to the beach. She thought she'd build a little sandcastle and poke the doll down into the top. Eventually the wind or the sea would claim it, take it back to wherever it had come from. For now though, she took it and propped it on the top of the bookshelf in her little unit, leaning against a textbook. Why had the doll had that strange effect on Belle? It didn't matter which way she turned the events, she couldn't get them to make sense. It was like one of those logic puzzles, with an answer filled out wrong. Every time she thought she'd figured something out, it invalidated an answer she already had. And that rhyme - but then it went red, and now they're all dead - was still spinning, spinning in her mind. Alyssa turned the television on, hoping to drown it out but still - and now they're all dead, now they're all dead - she couldn't shake the rhyme, or the cold chill that had persisted since she woke up in the early hours.
Behind These Eyes - Part Two
Belle heard the car first. She always did. "Mum's back!" she called to her sister. As the words left her mouth she was already on her way out the front door. By the time Mandy had turned the ignition off, both Belle and Alyssa were standing in the open doorway. She stepped out of the car, sunglasses covering the worst of the damage to her face, but by no means all, and went to the girls with a grin. She hugged them both and it was only when they pulled away that Alyssa noticed, and frowned. Then Belle frowned as well, "What's wrong?" she asked. Often Alyssa tried to get things past her sister by not making any noise, but Belle had an uncanny sense of what was going on. Like many with a vision-impairment, she was able to pick up on subtle changes in tone or unusual sileces. It was as though the smelled tension in the air, could hear a smile or a rolling tear.
"Liss? Mum? What's wrong? Something is wrong." she said when no one responded immediately, and the silence continued.
Mandy shook herself slightly, smiled a tight, nervous smile at Alyssa, and then said to both of them, "How about we go and get ice cream?"
--
Neither of the girls had ever seen their father hit their mother, but both had seen what he did to her. Normally, the bruises were in places easy for Mandy to hide - high on her arms or legs, or on her belly and breasts. It was only when he totally lost control that he ever hit her on her face.
Although it was difficult to leave their father - and Mandy to leave her husband of twelve years - it was an unspoken relief not to have to live with the fear of his wrath anymore. Eventually, with a great amount of help from Mandy's sister and brother, they found a three bedroom flat in an older suburb, filled it with second hand furniture and clothes, and moved in.
They never heard from Peter again. Although some financial help would have been welcome, and both Allysa and Belle often wondered if he thought about them any more, the three were perfectly happy not to have to worry about him anymore.
Eventually, their lives began to settle into new routines. Alyssa started high school, made friends, got good grades, and agonised over who was going with who to the end of year twelve formal dinner. Belle learned to read braille, and entered the school system, helped along by a tutor and afternoon sessions at the school for the blind. Mandy took on a string of part-time jobs, eventually securing a full-time position as a receptionist at the local medical centre. She rediscovered her self-confidence, and when she asked out to dinner and a movie by one of the doctors, she gladly accepted.
Their lives hadn't changed dramatically when Jamie entered their lives, but it had very gradually gotten easier. Jamie started coming around for dinner once a week or so, then more often. Eventually he was staying for breakfast too, and about a year after that first movie, Jamie and Mandy decided to move in together. Alyssa and Belle were consulted, and both seemed pleased with the arrangement. Alyssa was due to finish school soon, and was wrapped up in final exams, university applications and the all-important dress and makeup planning for the formal. Belle, now in year ten and trying to work out what her future held, was just happy to have Jamie around on a more regular basis so that she could beat him at Monopoly. Jamie had helped her convert a regular Monopoly game with braille labels on the properties, and she had become a skilled and ruthless player in short order.
Mandy was desperate to leave behind the poky apartment, and the memories of struggle and poverty that it held. When Alyssa announced that she had been accepted into the university course she wanted, but at a university that was four hours away in a beachside suburb, they decided to start looking farther afield. General practise doctors were always in demand, and on Jamie's income there was no rush for Mandy to find work. Eventually, they found a house two blocks away from the beach, with a self-contained granny flat for Alyssa and enough room for an office and a backyard. When moving day arrived, most of the second hand furniture was donated back to the charity shops they had come from, although Mandy held on to a few of the more serviceable pieces. They left the flat and the dingy old suburb shrouded in drizzle, with dark foreboding clouds overhead, and eventually arrived into sunshine, the smell of salt in the air and the sound of waves on the breeze. The weather perhaps a better indicator of Mandy's mood than it had ever been before.
--
I never wanted to be anything special. Although others thought I should have been. Consciously, I always just wanted to show others that I could do ... stuff. It didn't matter what the stuff was, I just wanted to prove that I could do it. Of course, I'll never be able to see, but there's plenty of things that I can do without that. I can ride a bike, I can swim, I can read, I can turn cartwheels, and I can think. Yes, most of all, I can use my mind. Why do so many amongst the sighted imagine that because I am blind I am also without thought, imagination, dreams, without intelligence? Perhaps it is because, in the case of so many, sight allows them to suspend rational thought. Because they can see something, they don't have to think about it. They see something, and then immediately cease to think any further about it. They don't ever say "why did that happen like that?", "how did that situation arise?", "what will happen now?". These things, to me, are more important than what was seen. They are what gives humanity and society its depth of colour, it's richness.
Sometimes, if I am walking through a park or a train station, I hear a little piece of conversation, like a torn bit of ribbon - no beginning, no end, just a little piece from the middle. I wonder what brings two people together at that moment, to that place, that conversation, that instant in time. Like candid photographs, capturing a fleeting moment and holding it still in time forever more, I collect these fragments and put them in a photo album I keep in my mind. Little insights into a another world, another dimension.
--
Christmas was spent in the new house, with the four of them going down to the beach in the afternoon. Mandy sat on the sand, reading, while Jamie and Belle swam in the surf and Alyssa dozed on a towel in the sun. Mandy looked up over her paperback every so often, and smiled as she watched the two halves of her life - the old one, that her daughters been part of for so long, and the new one, that she was going to share with Jamie - come together as one.
"Liss? Mum? What's wrong? Something is wrong." she said when no one responded immediately, and the silence continued.
Mandy shook herself slightly, smiled a tight, nervous smile at Alyssa, and then said to both of them, "How about we go and get ice cream?"
--
Neither of the girls had ever seen their father hit their mother, but both had seen what he did to her. Normally, the bruises were in places easy for Mandy to hide - high on her arms or legs, or on her belly and breasts. It was only when he totally lost control that he ever hit her on her face.
Although it was difficult to leave their father - and Mandy to leave her husband of twelve years - it was an unspoken relief not to have to live with the fear of his wrath anymore. Eventually, with a great amount of help from Mandy's sister and brother, they found a three bedroom flat in an older suburb, filled it with second hand furniture and clothes, and moved in.
They never heard from Peter again. Although some financial help would have been welcome, and both Allysa and Belle often wondered if he thought about them any more, the three were perfectly happy not to have to worry about him anymore.
Eventually, their lives began to settle into new routines. Alyssa started high school, made friends, got good grades, and agonised over who was going with who to the end of year twelve formal dinner. Belle learned to read braille, and entered the school system, helped along by a tutor and afternoon sessions at the school for the blind. Mandy took on a string of part-time jobs, eventually securing a full-time position as a receptionist at the local medical centre. She rediscovered her self-confidence, and when she asked out to dinner and a movie by one of the doctors, she gladly accepted.
Their lives hadn't changed dramatically when Jamie entered their lives, but it had very gradually gotten easier. Jamie started coming around for dinner once a week or so, then more often. Eventually he was staying for breakfast too, and about a year after that first movie, Jamie and Mandy decided to move in together. Alyssa and Belle were consulted, and both seemed pleased with the arrangement. Alyssa was due to finish school soon, and was wrapped up in final exams, university applications and the all-important dress and makeup planning for the formal. Belle, now in year ten and trying to work out what her future held, was just happy to have Jamie around on a more regular basis so that she could beat him at Monopoly. Jamie had helped her convert a regular Monopoly game with braille labels on the properties, and she had become a skilled and ruthless player in short order.
Mandy was desperate to leave behind the poky apartment, and the memories of struggle and poverty that it held. When Alyssa announced that she had been accepted into the university course she wanted, but at a university that was four hours away in a beachside suburb, they decided to start looking farther afield. General practise doctors were always in demand, and on Jamie's income there was no rush for Mandy to find work. Eventually, they found a house two blocks away from the beach, with a self-contained granny flat for Alyssa and enough room for an office and a backyard. When moving day arrived, most of the second hand furniture was donated back to the charity shops they had come from, although Mandy held on to a few of the more serviceable pieces. They left the flat and the dingy old suburb shrouded in drizzle, with dark foreboding clouds overhead, and eventually arrived into sunshine, the smell of salt in the air and the sound of waves on the breeze. The weather perhaps a better indicator of Mandy's mood than it had ever been before.
--
I never wanted to be anything special. Although others thought I should have been. Consciously, I always just wanted to show others that I could do ... stuff. It didn't matter what the stuff was, I just wanted to prove that I could do it. Of course, I'll never be able to see, but there's plenty of things that I can do without that. I can ride a bike, I can swim, I can read, I can turn cartwheels, and I can think. Yes, most of all, I can use my mind. Why do so many amongst the sighted imagine that because I am blind I am also without thought, imagination, dreams, without intelligence? Perhaps it is because, in the case of so many, sight allows them to suspend rational thought. Because they can see something, they don't have to think about it. They see something, and then immediately cease to think any further about it. They don't ever say "why did that happen like that?", "how did that situation arise?", "what will happen now?". These things, to me, are more important than what was seen. They are what gives humanity and society its depth of colour, it's richness.
Sometimes, if I am walking through a park or a train station, I hear a little piece of conversation, like a torn bit of ribbon - no beginning, no end, just a little piece from the middle. I wonder what brings two people together at that moment, to that place, that conversation, that instant in time. Like candid photographs, capturing a fleeting moment and holding it still in time forever more, I collect these fragments and put them in a photo album I keep in my mind. Little insights into a another world, another dimension.
--
Christmas was spent in the new house, with the four of them going down to the beach in the afternoon. Mandy sat on the sand, reading, while Jamie and Belle swam in the surf and Alyssa dozed on a towel in the sun. Mandy looked up over her paperback every so often, and smiled as she watched the two halves of her life - the old one, that her daughters been part of for so long, and the new one, that she was going to share with Jamie - come together as one.
And so it begins ...
NaNoWriMo has started with a bang! I've just gotten home from the Kick-off party for Canberra. It was followed by a write-in and I've managed to set the first 500 words or so to paper (or digital memory, anyway). The NaNo site is struggling under the load right now, but I'll be updating my word count as soon as I can persuade it to play nice. Hopefully my widget over on the left will play nice too. Here 'tis ... enjoy!
-------------------------------
Preface
People say, "Oh how sad, to live in a world of darkness" but my world is full of colour. Red is smooth, cold, and hard. Blue is rough, warm and solid. These are the colours as I see them.
People say, "Oh how sad, to live in a world without beauty" but my world is full of beauty. The touch of a friend, the kiss of a lover, a breath of wind across my face. All these things have beauty. I get as much enjoyment out of a day at the beach, out of a picnic by the lake, out of laughing with friends as anyone else does.
Why must my life be thought incomplete, simply because I am without sight? My life is rich, perhaps richer, because I am blind. Not despite it.
--
Mandy
The day had begun. What a cruel world - it seems that it is ony when one is at their lowest that the day dawns with sunshine. A cloud free sky could be glimpsed in the chink between the drawn curtains. Birds could be heard twittering as they came into the yard to gather seed from the feeder hanging from the tree. This morning, Mandy hated those birds. She detested the sunshine. She rolled over, burying her head in the pillow, and cursed the fluffy white clouds hanging in the sky. They, even more than the sunshine, represented how low her life had ebbed. If the weather was to represent her mood accurately, a storm would be threatening. The clouds would be hanging low in the sky, dark and heavy with unspent rain and there would be lightning strikes around the horizon, making the air crack and sizzle with electricity. The sunshine was just further proof of the world being a cruel taskmaster. Offering everything, and delivering nought.
The sound of morning television from the loungeroom eventually persuaded Mandy to get out of bed. She crawled out into her sister's spare room, looking around at the mostly unfamiliar surroundings. The bookshelf was full of worn and tired paperbacks. Some children's stuffed toys that Mandy remembered from her own childhood sat in a haphazard pile in the corner. The chest of drawers was topped with clutter of dust-catchers, trinkets and curios that her sister had collected or been given over the years.
Mandy's mouth was dry, and she stepped into the ensuite for a drink. Her eyes fell on the guest towels on the rack, the novelty soap in the dish. She knew that the mirror would show only the reminders of the evening before, but still she had to look. The left side of her face was swollen, her eye a mere slit looking through the yellow bruise rising under the skin. Her lip was split, the cut ragged and bloody still. She felt hot tears rise in her throat but swallowed them down defiantly. She would not let herself fall apart. The time for falling apart was last night, and god knew she had done it well and truly. But not today. Today, she had to pick up the children, and tell them that their father was the evil person they had all refused to believe he was. Today, she had to start putting her life back together again.
-------------------------------
Preface
People say, "Oh how sad, to live in a world of darkness" but my world is full of colour. Red is smooth, cold, and hard. Blue is rough, warm and solid. These are the colours as I see them.
People say, "Oh how sad, to live in a world without beauty" but my world is full of beauty. The touch of a friend, the kiss of a lover, a breath of wind across my face. All these things have beauty. I get as much enjoyment out of a day at the beach, out of a picnic by the lake, out of laughing with friends as anyone else does.
Why must my life be thought incomplete, simply because I am without sight? My life is rich, perhaps richer, because I am blind. Not despite it.
--
Mandy
The day had begun. What a cruel world - it seems that it is ony when one is at their lowest that the day dawns with sunshine. A cloud free sky could be glimpsed in the chink between the drawn curtains. Birds could be heard twittering as they came into the yard to gather seed from the feeder hanging from the tree. This morning, Mandy hated those birds. She detested the sunshine. She rolled over, burying her head in the pillow, and cursed the fluffy white clouds hanging in the sky. They, even more than the sunshine, represented how low her life had ebbed. If the weather was to represent her mood accurately, a storm would be threatening. The clouds would be hanging low in the sky, dark and heavy with unspent rain and there would be lightning strikes around the horizon, making the air crack and sizzle with electricity. The sunshine was just further proof of the world being a cruel taskmaster. Offering everything, and delivering nought.
The sound of morning television from the loungeroom eventually persuaded Mandy to get out of bed. She crawled out into her sister's spare room, looking around at the mostly unfamiliar surroundings. The bookshelf was full of worn and tired paperbacks. Some children's stuffed toys that Mandy remembered from her own childhood sat in a haphazard pile in the corner. The chest of drawers was topped with clutter of dust-catchers, trinkets and curios that her sister had collected or been given over the years.
Mandy's mouth was dry, and she stepped into the ensuite for a drink. Her eyes fell on the guest towels on the rack, the novelty soap in the dish. She knew that the mirror would show only the reminders of the evening before, but still she had to look. The left side of her face was swollen, her eye a mere slit looking through the yellow bruise rising under the skin. Her lip was split, the cut ragged and bloody still. She felt hot tears rise in her throat but swallowed them down defiantly. She would not let herself fall apart. The time for falling apart was last night, and god knew she had done it well and truly. But not today. Today, she had to pick up the children, and tell them that their father was the evil person they had all refused to believe he was. Today, she had to start putting her life back together again.
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