A story I wrote while stuck on a train for a few days back during the big blackout of 2003.
Daddy didn’t march in the parade, didn’t wave a flag or have the bright uniform with shiny buttons. He didn’t salute. Daddy stayed at home and closed his eyes as the dull beats of foot and hoof and drum echoed sharply off the kitchen wall; Daddy stayed at home, his face drawn and his eyes tired as the footsteps quickened and the people screamed, smoking cigarettes, cheap painful cigarettes; and the smoke curled up into his hair, soft smoke curls around his head; Daddy stayed at home, silent, as the streets roared.
Two weeks later, Daddy was dead.
Momma’s making breakfast. Her eyes are dark and deep – another night; again, again.
Softly: “What would you like?”
And playing the game: “Just bread, please.”
She smiles at me, and I wonder when all the years crept into her smile.
Once upon a time, there was a beautiful princess who lived in a splendid castle overlooking a gorgeous and prosperous kingdom. Her mother was a queen, and her father was a king, and they all lived happily ever after.
At school all the kids laugh at me most of all. My feet are ugly; hard and calloused, like goat horns. “Old granny goat, old granny goat,” that ruthless chant and those pounding feet. Stupid girl, stupid girl, the pavement screams, doesn’t know, doesn’t know.
Daddy’s cigarettes: thin, long, white, perfectly made for the corners of his mouth, clinging to his lips as he smiled – I always wondered if they’d fall, but they’d hang there, grasping, grasping, holding to his laughs and whispers; thin, white.
Momma’s waiting for me, but I’m slow today. My feet hurt, I’m sitting under the oak tree, dusty swirls around my ankles. My throat aches for water. Gotta go home, but just a moment, just a wait here, just a rest. Oh, it’s screaming for water, once upon a time…
Here come those boys, they’re so tall, scowling, the sun bronzing their hair. They’re slowing – don’t, don’t, why can’t I breathe? Oh, his eyes – oh – But he shakes his head toward the road (he’s the tallest), and they keep coming, they’re in front of me, and now they’re gone.
“Granny goat!” I hear as I watch their broad shoulders swagger away.
Daddy killed the horse. He said it was old and couldn’t march in the parade. I looked out my window and saw him stroking its dead neck. I heard him crying.
“What is this a picture of?” my teacher asks.
“The president,” we all answer.
“Good,” she smiles. She’s so pretty. All the teachers are very pretty. She has white pearl teeth and soft hair like a fawn. I’d like to touch it and I’d bet it would be as light as a spider’s silk. “Anna,” she says, “come to the board. Tell me about our history.”
I tell her everything I learned, and I try really hard to leave out the stories Daddy told me – she doesn’t like those. She’ll laugh silvery and say “Oh Anna, how frightful, really. We’ll have no more of those grim, ghastly stories.” All of the other kids will nod, and, smiling, say that the world is really so nice and happy, Anna, why do you go and have to try to scare us? And I’ll nod back, cheeks red and hot, and I’ll creep back to my chair.
One day the kingdom grew all dark and the princess went into a splendid tower overlooking the world, high in the mountains. She fell into a deep enchanted sleep, a beautiful sleep full of magical dreams, and she was to awaken when the light returned and the kingdom was bright and happy again.
Mommy’s making soup. She’s got his robe on, all soft with oldness and faded. In her mouth, the cigarette – always hangs, never lit, just limply hanging, clinging to her tears.
I’m tired again today, so I sit under the big oak tree again. It’s cool in the shade and I pretend the whorls in the dust are soft green leaves. The shadows sway slightly, and then a tall, thin one melts into the shifting treedark.
I look up at him and want to cry. His eyes are deep blue, his body a cutout against the sky shining through at me. He sits down and I sit on my feet. I don’t want him to see them. But he does – and he smiles. I look away and my face is all hot and now I’m crying.
I say “they look like goat’s hooves,” but he says that he has a goat and her name is Anna and she’s very pretty.
Daddy had brown hair and deep blue eyes. Whenever I looked at him I remembered the seaside.
“What would you like for breakfast?”
How I love you, Mommy. I love you like my heart would split into a thousand tiny pieces, each a soft, faded splinter of green like his robe. I could wrap you up in all of them, and we’d never, ever be cold.
I’m not tired today, but I’m sitting under the big oak tree.
When he sits down next to me, I tell him that I once had a horse named Evan and he was nice and had a soft white neck. His foot touches mine, and my face is hot, but not in the crying way this time, but then those other boys come. They’re all in the bright uniforms with the shiny buttons. They’re so tall.
“Granny goat doesn’t wave flags,” they say, and one kicks me in the chest. I’m looking at Evan, but he looks away, his arms wrapped around his knees.
The other boys grab me, pull me up, they’re so much taller, and I’m so little so little, they tell me to salute them, and their laughs cut into my skin like dog’s teeth.
Let go, let go, once upon a time… one smacks my face, this time my cheeks crying red flaring searing, let go, once upon a time, once upon a time – “Let’s see what Evan likes about Granny,” and then they’ve thrown me to the ground – but I can’t remember the rest, their eyes have only hate behind them, please no, I’m kicking and screaming, they only laugh more – their hands are all over me, I’m biting, scratching, and then Evan shouts “stop,” and it’s like a wolf ripping at his throat.
I can’t look at him, they lunge, but he punches one and the one with the sandy hair is bent over from a kick. They scowl at him, toss scornful laughs, kick at me again – but I’ve crawled behind the tree. Once upon a time, there was a beautiful princess – yes, that’s how it goes.
“Go home,” Evan says, and it’s like Daddy with the horse, and I’m behind the tree. “Go home,” he screams at me, his voice so awful, his throat in shreds, the wolf slunk away.
Oh Daddy – when Daddy died it was like the horse, only they kicked him first, and spit on him after, not stroking his neck. And Momma sobbed, hugging him against her, sliding down the wall, a streak of red against the white, finishing the flag the soldiers started to paint.
I was going to keep walking, but Evan was there, and he hugs me, hot tears splashing down onto my cheeks, and I can’t move, only stand there like the old tree above us. He sobs harder, and I think he might howl like a wolf, but no, he doesn’t.
I look up at him, and the sky flickers back at me through his tears, but when I hug him back he shudders. He’s all purple and sick black, like rotten fruit, and now I’m crying as well. We both kneel there under the trees.
“Look,” showing him one of Daddy’s cigarettes. It burns down my throat, but I laugh just like Daddy, and Evan’s smiling. He picks up my hand and holds it between his. His eyes are beautiful and the sun sways softly in the shadows on our feet.
Once upon a time there was a wonderful princess and she lived happily ever after, ever after, ever after forever.
