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Two. But She's Russian!
Margot Bloom was a teacher. She started as a kindergarten teacher, dedicating her life to taking care of kids and helping them learn. A little after Amelia was born, she slowly transitioned into elementary school, then middle school, and lastly high school. She was loved by all. She was gentle and a mother. She was meant for her job.
Not only did she work for public schools, but she was her own daughter's at-home teacher. She taught her how to draw, write, and spell. She taught Amelia how to read at five. In both, English and Russian. She bought her a collection of children's books that were abandoned in the clearance section at the Book Nook. But he had to review and approve them. Three times each. A slow read.
Amelia didn't mind that at five years old, nor at six. Her only worry was placing those books in the top right corner of her very own bookcase.
Thank you, Mama, she told Margot. But what about the princesses? Why can't I read those? No answer. Just a quick Look! This one is about a mouse! She didn't question it anymore. She would beg Margot to read beside her for that extra company. For that nod of approval after she read a full sentence correctly.
It was never him.
He never sat down beside her, shoulders touching. He never held a book open for her. He never gifted her any kind of book. It had never been him.
Amelia would read the same twelve Dr. Seuss books back and forth. She flipped through the same pages countless times because no matter how much she asked for those books about the princess tales, she had to stick to Fox in Socks. She had to choose between The Sneetches and Green Eggs and Ham again.
Igor made sure she never accessed those books with the altered realities. With the senseless love stories that fed unrealistic ideals to children's minds. That made them think differently about the cruel world they lived in.
She was ten when she first went to a library. She walked in, hand curled around Margot's as her eyes widened at the size of the room and the endless number of books. She stayed over an hour reading about the princesses while Margot taught a class behind the bookshelf that divided them.
The first copy she read was Rapunzel. She had felt ecstatic, trying to understand the big words as she flipped through the pages. But his voice boomed inside her head like a dead record, stabbing her heart over and over again. Those books aren't for girls like you! He yelled. Bullshit, she'd call now.
At ten, she had stood there with a tear threatening to scar her cheek. To leave a faint memory of what she couldn't have.
