A Walk Down Ivy Laine

Tuesday, October 14, 2015 (Re-Editing)

Tuesday, October 14, 2015

Ice-like needles re-shatter inside my fingertips. I clench and un-clench for the hundredth painful time, trying to bring some circulation back through my wrists.

I'm cold.

Really cold.

Wherever he's brought me, it's really butt-numbing cold and every minute that passes, it only drops another degree in my books. I can only hope that Willy is inside the motel, warm. Not safe, obviously, but warm at least.

Despite hating the tarp after hours of having it with a dead body as my trunk mate, it's actually a method of comfort now. It seems to keep in a little bit of whatever heat is left, reminding me somewhat of a rough space blanket. I don't dare sleep. Besides, I can't. Every time my eyes drift closed, I think of Hilda. Her body. Her eyes. A thousand shades of gray.

Hunger, worse than what I'm used to on a normal basis seeped in hours ago. My stomach also seems to have given up rumbling , but the hunger is still there in my mind, gnawing at me like a bear.

An involuntarily shiver sends fresh waves of goose-flesh running over my skin. Clenching my teeth, I fight back the urge to cry and force my mind to wander to a warmer and happier place.

The memory of my mother and I sitting together on the porch one hot summer evening drifts slowly upwards from the dark vault:

"Mom I've already heard that one! You always sing that one," I whine, watching the great big Willow tree sway in front of us in the back yard. Its' leaves rustle and shake happily as my mother chuckles, little green birds swooping to and fro. Willy, my caretaker, waters the flowers against the far wall with a blue hose. He moves over a few feet, yanking the hose along with him. His dark chocolate skin glistens with sweat, the hair on top his head a light gray-white. The sound of whistling drifts through the breeze to our ears.

"Okay, okay. Hmm, a new one eh?" My mother asks, wrapping her arms tight around me. My younger brother-to-be, Riaan, suddenly kicks against my back.

"Mommy did you feel that?!"

She laughs, the merry sound jingling like Christmas bells, "He's awake. You should tell him to go to sleep. It's too late for him to be up."

I set my ear against her swollen belly. "No...He says he wants to hear a new one too!"

"Oh he did, did he?"

"Yes. We decided without you."

"Ah, I see. Well, hmm...have you ever heard of Ducklings?"

I shake my head eagerly. A new rhyme!

"Well, come here. Let us sing." My mother's arms open wide for me.

I crawl up, settling in the crook of her arm.

My mothers' silly, happy voice takes flight, "Ducklings, ducklings, all in a row...One, two, three four, see how they go...Left, right, left, right, look how tame...Quack, quack, quack, down...Puddleduck Lane..."

All three of us giggle together. This time I follow mommy's lead and we sing it three times more. I know it by the third time...

The memory shifts, a new voice coming to the surface. My mother vanishes in the fog, taking half my heart with it. I don't want to chase after it, so I let it fade away. Another one swoops in unexpectedly.

"Ivy...will you dance with me?" Liam asks.

I shake my head. "I don't know how."