Wendybird

Tiger Lily

  Mary's crying. I can hear the tremor in her voice as she asks, "Do you think she'll ever wake up?"

  My eyes are closed and I'm slowly stirring awake.

  Lola's voice is gentle and assuring, "Of course she will; she's Wendy. Remember when you dislocated your shoulder?"

  "Yes, Michael tripped me and I fell on it."

  "Do you remember how Wendy made you feel afterwards? She sat you down and calmly explained what needed to be done. She promised that the pain wouldn't last and dried your tears with her handkerchief. She even snagged you candy from the kitchen. While singing a lullaby she pulled your arm back into place. It hurt for a moment, but you smiled because it was over. If she was to speak to you now, she'd do the same. She'd tell you what needed to be done. She'd want you to be calm and controlled. If you're always reacting, you'll never move on. Now, she'll wake up soon enough. Until then you and I need to stay focused. Let's go cheer up the others with some games, okay?"

  I can hear the shuffle of chairs and then silence. Lola's words ring in my mind. It stirs strength in my spirit to hear her use my example. These girls have lived through the cruelest circumstances. The staff would like to shape us to be empty shells. So to hear them being strong for one another is beautiful. It reminds me that I'm always being watched, the the way I respond matters.

  My mind drifts to thoughts of Gentleman Starkey. I can feel pain in my fingers. I recall his boot pressing down and I clench my fist angrily. Peter's face surfaces in my mind. It feels like he's branded himself permanently into my thoughts. His physical attraction may turn Curly's head. Yet I see the truth that's hidden from her sight. I see the real Peter again and again. His cowardice hiding behind the bin leaves a bad taste in my mouth. I fight my emotions to stay positive, yet I feel betrayed. I don't know why since he's not my friend. I guess being orphans since birth meant something to me. But he's shown that there isn't any part of him that could ever care about me. At least care about me in a deeper way beyond his tricks. I let my mind drift off tired of these heavy emotions.

  The room is quiet when I wake up. I open my eyes and am comforted to see Tiger Lily sitting by my bedside. She's been my closest friend since she arrived five years ago. She never talks about where she came from. I always tried to respect her and never pressed her for answers. She carries herself elegantly and with an aged wisdom. Her dark skin is unlike any of the pale faces in this orphanage. She'll never blend into a room of us. She doesn't care to fit in and I appreciate that. She always encourages my full potential and growth. I've found myself becoming more of a woman since she arrived than in all the years prior. I lift my gaze to hers and appreciate her calm demeanor. Unlike Mary's emotional state, Tiger Lily smiles at me serenely.

  "Hello there, you've had a long rest, haven't you," she comments. She reaches for the lamp that sits on my nightstand and adjusts the wick for additional light.

  I nod, and glance down at my body. I flex my fingers and notice black and blue discoloration in the center of my right hand. Seeing the bruising angers me. Tiger Lily notices me staring at my hand and asks, "How does it feel?"

  "Like someone shoved their boot on it."

  "Sounds about right, how's your head feeling?"

  I hadn't thought much about the hit to my head. Remembering it brings an ache with the memory. I shrug and say, "Like a fist knocked me unconscious."

  She smiles and nods, "You're just full of answers, aren't you." She reaches for a wooden bowl off the table and asks, "How would you like some lukewarm soup? Mary made is especially for you. She's trying to find ways to stop worrying about you. So far she's cleaned half the house, cooked everyone supper, and began a new sowing project. The staff has been oddly invisible since Peter returned with you last night."

  She holds the bowl towards me and I take it. My cheeks flush with warmth at the mention of his name. I try and ignore thoughts of him and take a sip of soup. It's delicious as is everything Mary makes. She's the best of us at cooking. It tastes like she used our chicken and potatoes for a flavorful soup. She is clever about taking our small amount of food and making it stretch. Soup is the best way we can do that. She uses lots of broth and spreads the flavors from the small bits of meat and potatoes into the rest. I swallow a small piece of chicken. I notice how hungry I am now that I'm eating. I suppose I should be since I haven't eaten since last night.

  Tiger Lily continues, "He's worried about you, you know."

  I shake my head, and answer sarcastically, "Poor Peter. I'm sure he's just upset he wasn't the one to knock me out cold. I really doubt he cares what happens to me one way or another, Lil." I sit up against the bed frame and take another sip of soup, "In reality what happened last night was as much his fault as Gentleman Starkey's. Peter ran when the bandits came from the alley. He hid behind a bin and stayed there while I was attacked. There was nothing heroic about his actions. So please, don't give me any of this "he's worried about you" nonsense. The last thing I saw before I hit the icy ground was his cold eyes watching."

  Tiger Lily eyes me calmly and says, "Well, I spoke to Peter and he shared the same story. In fact, he insisted he was a coward not a hero. He was nonetheless still concerned about you. I wish you would find it in your heart to forgive his wrongs."

  My breath quickens, how could Tiger Lily mention such a thing. I feel betrayed by her and express it, "You're my friend, why are you defending him?"

  She stares at me blankly until I turn away uneasy. Finally she stands and says firmly, "Firstly, I'm not defending him. And second, the only person who suffers from your anger is you." She turns and starts to walk away but stops and says, "Thirdly, who ever said I wasn't his friend? Get some rest, Wendy." At that she slips into the shadows and disappears down the stairwell.

  I feel terrible. Everything she said pulls at me in the wrong way. How am I to just dismiss his actions? And is she really a friend to the person who's hurt me the most? I put the soup on the table and lie back down. I can't think about these things right now. My head hurts too much as it is. I try and fall back asleep but find myself restless.

  I open my eyes. Someone's watching me. Just beyond the lamp light I see a figure hovering. The other girls are now in bed sound asleep. The sound of their soft breathing resonates. I quietly whisper, "Who is that?"

  The lamp has been turned down so it's only a dim glow. The person steps into the light and there's no mistaking that face.

  "Peter," I exclaim loudly.

  He holds a finger to his lips and says, "Don't want to get me in trouble do you."

  I sit up and quietly but aggressively answer, "That's all I want, but I never do. What are you doing here? Why were you watching me?"

  He steps closer to my bed and to my surprise sits down beside me. We're face to face. I'm horrified.

  "I couldn't sleep. I kept reliving the scene of you yesterday. I am so sorry, Wendy! That was not how I envisioned it going down. I should never have taken you with me to get the food. This was all my fault."

  I'm angry. I can tell he means what he says and I don't like it. He can't do this to me. He can't be the horrid trickster one day and a caring friend the next. I glare into his eyes and say, "It was your fault and no, I don't forgive you. You've been the bane of my existence. It's about time I truly speak up for myself. You've destroyed so much of my happiness. How dare you try and make amends now," My voice is thick with emotion, I breathe in deeply and say, "You need to leave before I decide to get you in trouble."

  He nods and stands. He bites his lip for a brief moment and says, "There is so much I want to tell you. Now isn't it, but I know in time, I can make you understand. Please know I am sorry, Wendy. Goodnight."

  I press my fingers into my temple and close my eyes. I need to calm down and compose myself. When I open my eyes again, he's gone. I'm starting to wonder if the hit to my head has affected more than just me.