The walls are white and bare, but I am used to seeing them. The floor gets colder and harder with each second that I stand there. My feet ache like a twelve hour shift, but I am only eight years old. I wonder when my mother will realize that I have learned my lesson. My stomach is raw and I can feel the bubbles moving through my system. The bitter taste on my tongue makes me quiver with every breath. So this is what soap tastes like. My little sister pokes head her around the corner.
“I’m sorry again” we both say. She rolls a super-ball over to me and I roll it back. We smile.
Time ticks by and I wonder if my mom has forgotten about me.
“Did you think about what you did?”
“Yes, Mama, I’m sorry.”
I wonder how old I will have to be until I don’t have to stand in the corner for two hours anymore. My sister has long forgotten about whatever we had been arguing about. We already made up five minutes before the punishment, but oh well, grown ups never understand.
A hot August morning sun rises into our bedroom window the next day. The melody of a distant chickadee dances in my dreams. The cat lies quietly at the end of my sisters’ bed, but the morning only seems this still. BOOM! I jump to hear my parents awakening for my fathers’ early morning shift. I hear my name through their screams.
“SHE must have done it; we know for sure we set the clock!”
I clench the covers tightly over my head and try not to breathe but it’s too late. I feel a hard smack to my right leg. What did I do, Daddy? I try to curl up in a ball until he goes away but the beating persists. I feel like I will never move again.
As he finally leaves my room I rack my brain for whatever I could have done. My mind goes blank. I wish they knew it wasn’t me.
“I know that kid turned our alarm off while we were sleeping. Now I’m late!”
Deep in my heart I know it wasn’t me. I never got one chance to tell them but it wouldn’t have mattered. No one ever listens to me. When I go back into our room I take out my bucket of Legos. Carefully constructing the pieces, I make a jail cell. Mindy makes one too.
That night when I am lying in bed I think about the time I tried to tell my High School listener about my parents. All the new students got one. Every other day we got to get out of class and do fun activities with our individual listeners. Molly always found fun things for me to do. I even got to hear about what High School was going to be like.
One day, Molly and I were sitting on the floor in the meeting room just talking about life. She told me about her family and asked me about mine. I told her I didn’t like my Dad very much.
“Why? I’m sure he’s not that bad.”
“He gets very mad at me, if you know what I mean.”
She stared straight into my eyes, a look I had never seen before. I didn’t have to tell her the details. I seemed like such a happy kid. Maybe she didn’t believe me or maybe she was just shocked. Whatever the case was, she told me that I didn’t have to tell her anything that I didn’t want to. BANG! A flash went through my mind of my father going away and me not being able to see him anymore. I don’t know if I should have done this, but I told her not to tell anyone.
“I promise”
“Thank you.”
The last day I ever saw her was my birthday. I did not expect a gift. I tore open the neatly wrapped paper and peered into the box. Inside was a neatly tied hair bow which I end up wearing everyday. Then came the card:
“If you ever need to call me, my number is 456-4867.”
I knew exactly what she meant by “need to call.” I never called her.
My eyes are getting sleepy as the last part of my flashback plays inside my head. I can’t run away, I can’t tell anyone. I love my parents and don’t want to lose them.
“Mindy, are you still awake?”
No answer. I roll over thinking tomorrow has to be a better day.
