Post by Robin Leigh Anderson on Jan 16, 2008 22:37:39 GMT -8
Second Place for Fiction at SBWC
Tiny
I was tiny when those other hands took me. The soft, sweet scent of the warm shoulder where I had laid my head was replaced by a sharper odor, darker. The voice was sharper, too. I was tiny, but I remember. It never completely faded, not in three and a half decades.
Thirty-five is not so old. I’ll bet that couple over there is about my age. Who are they meeting, or are they going somewhere? I looked around the recently renovated airport, at the bright colors and decorative tiles and unusual seating arrangements. I could almost smell the new paint. The multitude of different noises in the busy airport diminished to a dull hum. My mind wandered, hardly a surprise, given my reason for being in that chair opposite the arrival gate. I was early, very early. This gave more time for my active imagination to plague me. I closed my eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. When I opened my eyes, the thirty-something woman smiled at me as if to say, yes, the waiting is tiring.
But I wasn’t tired. I was simply trying to bring my heartrate down to anywhere near normal. I thanked my genetics for my generally low blood pressure. My genetics. THUD THUD THUD went my heart. I scolded myself for getting so worked up. One of the few things for which I could thank my family was the ability not to show what I was feeling. I returned the smile with a slight nod of acknowledgment. My cell phone rang and my attention turned to fishing it out of my purse.
My younger brother’s strident voice interrupted my hello. “You don’t want to do this, you really don’t.”
“When have you ever known what I do or don’t want to do,” I said. I took a deep breath to steady my voice. This time I interrupted. “”You’ve never paid my rent or bills, never bought my clothes or groceries, never paid my tuition, all of which I’ve done for you, do you remember. I am way over 21 and, despite what you think, in control of my faculties. I’m quite able to make my own decisions in this world.”
I flipped the phone closed and turned off the power. He would call back immediately. He could talk to my voice mail. I slipped the phone into the padded pocket and closed my purse. My hand had brushed against the envelope, the contents of which I had read so many times. I wanted to take it out and read it again.
I looked over at the massive windows to see a 727 drawing up to the extended gate. I wanted to rise from my seat, but I wasn’t so certain that my legs would support me. I had chosen this chair to be in the perfect position opposite the door of the gate. An airline clerk opened the door. My eyes fixed on the opening.
Men and women in business suits, young families, elderly people all stepped into the arrival area and were greeted by friends, associates, family. I wondered what all those people were thinking. Were they happy to see the people greeting them? Would I be so lucky? Twenty, thirty, forty people walked by me. I looked at every face for the one I hoped I would know.
A woman stepped out of the corridor. She was in her mid-fifties. I was looking for someone exactly twenty years older than me. Her comfortable body was clad in matching loose green sweater and slacks. My favorite color was green, like my eyes. I looked her up and down as she approached almost in slow motion.
I stood up. We were exactly the same height. I looked into those soft hazel eyes set into an older version of my face. She dropped her bag at my feet and held out her arms to me.
The shoulder was just as warm as I had remembered. Her letter had said that she regretted every day for the last thirty-four years that she had allowed a wealthy distant cousin to take advantage of her in a moment of weakness and crisis, that she had never forgotten, not in all these years. I closed my eyes as the tears ran down my cheeks. I was no longer tiny, but I was once again where I truly belonged. That same sweet, soft scent filled my senses. Mama.
Tiny
I was tiny when those other hands took me. The soft, sweet scent of the warm shoulder where I had laid my head was replaced by a sharper odor, darker. The voice was sharper, too. I was tiny, but I remember. It never completely faded, not in three and a half decades.
Thirty-five is not so old. I’ll bet that couple over there is about my age. Who are they meeting, or are they going somewhere? I looked around the recently renovated airport, at the bright colors and decorative tiles and unusual seating arrangements. I could almost smell the new paint. The multitude of different noises in the busy airport diminished to a dull hum. My mind wandered, hardly a surprise, given my reason for being in that chair opposite the arrival gate. I was early, very early. This gave more time for my active imagination to plague me. I closed my eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. When I opened my eyes, the thirty-something woman smiled at me as if to say, yes, the waiting is tiring.
But I wasn’t tired. I was simply trying to bring my heartrate down to anywhere near normal. I thanked my genetics for my generally low blood pressure. My genetics. THUD THUD THUD went my heart. I scolded myself for getting so worked up. One of the few things for which I could thank my family was the ability not to show what I was feeling. I returned the smile with a slight nod of acknowledgment. My cell phone rang and my attention turned to fishing it out of my purse.
My younger brother’s strident voice interrupted my hello. “You don’t want to do this, you really don’t.”
“When have you ever known what I do or don’t want to do,” I said. I took a deep breath to steady my voice. This time I interrupted. “”You’ve never paid my rent or bills, never bought my clothes or groceries, never paid my tuition, all of which I’ve done for you, do you remember. I am way over 21 and, despite what you think, in control of my faculties. I’m quite able to make my own decisions in this world.”
I flipped the phone closed and turned off the power. He would call back immediately. He could talk to my voice mail. I slipped the phone into the padded pocket and closed my purse. My hand had brushed against the envelope, the contents of which I had read so many times. I wanted to take it out and read it again.
I looked over at the massive windows to see a 727 drawing up to the extended gate. I wanted to rise from my seat, but I wasn’t so certain that my legs would support me. I had chosen this chair to be in the perfect position opposite the door of the gate. An airline clerk opened the door. My eyes fixed on the opening.
Men and women in business suits, young families, elderly people all stepped into the arrival area and were greeted by friends, associates, family. I wondered what all those people were thinking. Were they happy to see the people greeting them? Would I be so lucky? Twenty, thirty, forty people walked by me. I looked at every face for the one I hoped I would know.
A woman stepped out of the corridor. She was in her mid-fifties. I was looking for someone exactly twenty years older than me. Her comfortable body was clad in matching loose green sweater and slacks. My favorite color was green, like my eyes. I looked her up and down as she approached almost in slow motion.
I stood up. We were exactly the same height. I looked into those soft hazel eyes set into an older version of my face. She dropped her bag at my feet and held out her arms to me.
The shoulder was just as warm as I had remembered. Her letter had said that she regretted every day for the last thirty-four years that she had allowed a wealthy distant cousin to take advantage of her in a moment of weakness and crisis, that she had never forgotten, not in all these years. I closed my eyes as the tears ran down my cheeks. I was no longer tiny, but I was once again where I truly belonged. That same sweet, soft scent filled my senses. Mama.