Chapter 13
Lilburn, GA, 1992
The Window and the Statue
In my dreams, I often find myself in a room with a window that looks out to a statue so massive, beautiful and complicated -I cannot guess what it is. Despite how many times I have studied it I could not tell you how wide it is, how tall, what it is made of; much less what it means.
There are voices shouting, violent violet voices that echo up and bruise down. There are fists shaking out of the open windows and faces pressing against the ones that don’t open. Each voice is yelling, screaming at each other, until their voices are hoarse; “It is this height, this color, this deep, and this wide!” Everyone is livid. I don’t like to be too near my window because then I can hear their words more clearly and I am afraid they will see me and direct their anger at me.
I knew Jared would know what it is. One night, as I stood a few feet away and facing my large window, I felt him come in. I asked quietly, without turning around, “What is it? Why is everyone so angry?”
He came to stand next to me and answered “Angry? They are Only angry? Are you sure?” I thought about that.
Reader…the voices are so frightening... but I felt Jared waiting so I crept forward to sit down on my window bench. Only angry?
I took a deep breath and then pressed my face against the glass so hard my nose smashed in. I squinted my eyes against the bright light as a voice wailed, “It’s so Dark in here!”
The status was huge, that was certain –as someone else moaned, “It’s tiny, and it means nothing!” The light began to hurt my eyes. The voices filled with anger, as well as the overwhelming grief and fear, created a hard knot in my stomach.
I looked back to Jared. In a tone suggesting of depths I cannot understand, he tells me, “No one has the same window. No one can share their window. What does that mean to you? “
I didn’t have an answer. That is not unusual though. Soon after, he left.
I listened all night. In places the statue seemed to be made of moving stone, of pictures of figures dancing mixed with unknown shapes twined together. I began to hear how lonely everyone was.
I thought about the girl at school who is mean to me and realized she thought I didn’t like her. I thought about the teacher who yells at me. She thinks I think I am smarter then everyone one and wants me to know I am not. Which is silly, I know I’m not. She gives everyone horrible green eraser pigs and thinks I will feel left out because I do not have one. Instead she makes me feel lonely and sad for her.
I thought about my aunt and her four children who stay with us. She hides in her room with her youngest, a toddler. Her oldest, he is mean. Sometimes his rage spills over, like it did yesterday and he twisted my big brother’s arm until my big brother’s face turned white. I try not to be alone with this cousin, not ever. The other three lie and steal if you leave anything out to be stolen. I must be more careful around them.
I thought about the nightmares. In some I am older and hollow inside. In some I am turned into glass, thrown, and I shatter against a wall. But later, the glass comes back together, until I am a window. Then there are the nightmares where I turn into dust and am lost to the tide even as the Wind Woman weeps and tries to pull me back together.
I will have to tell Mom I cannot see and have glasses. They think I am bored but I am not bored; I just can’t see so I don’t bother to pay attention. I haven’t told her because I don’t want them. I know they cost money and there is never enough money.
As I realized all these things, I felt like the statue was looking back, just for a second into my window. I stared at the shifting colors and the bewildering light that shone from its shadows. Then the moment left.
Ugh, green pigs and glasses.
Chapter 14
Lilburn, GA, Spring 1992
To Utah
Dad has found work again and this time we are to move to Utah in the summer. Mom is not taking it well. I volunteer to do laundry and dishes to try to cheer her up. I dread it too. I dream that when we leave, I will find a storm. Sometimes I wonder if Mom can sense that too or if she is just sad to be leaving a beautiful place where she has made good friends. Mom can see things like I see them but I think sometimes she tries not to.
I don’t want to go. I slip out every night to sit by the river and breathe in the light of the fireflies. I have looked at the map and it seems like Utah is very far away. To cheer me up, my Dad says it snows every winter there and it is closer to my Grandparents in California.
My friends and I have studied the map together and we wondered how many weeks it will have to take to get there. When I finally asked Dad, he said it would take a few days at most (Weeks sounds much better so I have not clarified this information with my friends).
Jared keeps bringing me back to the statue, each time he asks the same question, ‘What do you hear?” and each time I answer “Anger.” And again and again, each time, he asks, “Only anger? Are you listening?”
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