macfeely
Her features were sharp. Too sharp, she thought. Bird-like. And it was true; her piercing stare, her pursed lips- they put people off. But she made due.
You're not from around here, are you? How can I tell? You're not like the rest of us, those who were born here or who've been here so long we can't remember what it's like not to be here. Count yourself lucky you're not a local.
In grade seven I heard that if you bathed in baby oil it would make your skin soft. I didn't realize my skin was already soft, so I did it. Oily hair for a week. Couldn't wash it enough.
It seemed he was always supposing one thing or another; supposing, presuming, assuming. "Well, I suppose so...," or, "I don't suppose...". Just grow a set, she thought. Land on one side and stay there.
We went to the playground nearly every day then. Swung for hours on end, telling one another the stories of our lives.
At my school, the girls could come back after graduation to learn to work in an office, in the steno program. Girls who had babies in high school, girls who wore red faded nail polish and blouses that should've been worn by women twice their ages. Girls who never had a chance.
When M was around 4 years old, she was playing in the field next to my Dad's. Full of clover, the field was also home to many bees. Down the road, my Dad could hear her screaming as she recieved her first bee sting...
Their voices rose over the treetops. She imagined what they sounded like from across the water. Like two people in love, a chorus of hearts.
The hitch was rusty, but it'd hold ok. She hooked it on, jumped in the driver's seat, and didn't look back. She'd been planning, but never really thought she would do it.
It fit perfectly. It was the day she had dreamed of over the last 3 years. The dress, long and white, fit her like a glove. It was the worst day of her life.
load more entries