Mirrors

Smile

Chapter Twenty-Two:

Smile

“Keep your eyes closed, Irene.”

I followed little Irene, holding her soft hand. She led me, telling me where to go. Walking blind was disorienting. But I went along with it, trusting that girl. Thin blades of grass touched my legs, tickling me as we went passed them. A soft giggle came out of my mouth; I was very ticklish. After a few more seconds of walking, little Irene stopped at her tracks. She held a hand to my stomach, telling me to stop with her. She pulled me closer to her that I had to bend over. Her hand cupped against my ear; a gentle current of air met my skin.

“Don’t open your eyes yet,” she whispered. “Listen and tell me what you hear.”

I nodded in response, and then concentrated on listening. I didn’t know what to listen for. There was no sound anywhere. A cool wind blew at us, but its usual whistle didn’t sing. The muffled sounds of moving air crashing against the world didn’t hum. Patiently—ever so patiently—I waited for a song, a tweet, a voice—anything. Either it be good or bad, something had to be heard.

But there was nothing.

I waited for a couple more seconds. My feet began to shake, feeling agitated. Each of my fingers tapped on the side of my leg. I pursed my lips, deciding whether or not to say something to little Irene. It was taking too long.

“I hear nothing,” I finally said.

Little Irene sighed. “Just wait a little longer.”

“What exactly am I waiting for?”

“It’s not here yet,” little Irene answered. “You just have to wait.”

I sighed. Then, little Irene copied me. This was a lot of sighing.

Patience, Irene. It’s something you need to work on, I thought to myself.

For a little while longer, I waited. From head to toe, I stayed as still as a book left unread. Breathing softly, I felt as if peace had finally reached me. Even though it wasn’t permanent, this meditation cleared my mind. I couldn’t think of anything else but what my body perceived. My eyes were closed, limiting the amount of thought. The focus on sound eliminated the amount of things to concern about. There I was letting peace take over, even if it were only temporary.

Finally, I heard something. My body twitched awake, as if I had woken up from a dream. Although I kept my eyes closed, I noticed the sound immediately.

“I hear laughter not too far from here,” I said under my breath.

“They seem to be little kids. Probably playing?” I added, giving more thought into it.

“Yeah that’s right,” little Irene confirmed with a soft giggle. “What else?”

“I hear . . . a dog barking. It sounds too high-pitched to be a medium or large-sized dog. So I’m guessing that it’s small,” I answered.

“That’s right!” little Irene chirped.

“Now tell me, Irene,” she added. “Tell me what you feel about that.”

“What I feel?” No one really asked about what I felt. I just said what I thought out loud, or kept it a secret—it depends.

“I feel,” I began, “jealous.”

“Jealous?” little Irene asked. “Why jealous?”

“I can’t say.”

“Irene. I’m you. You can tell me anything,” little Irene reminded.

“All right. I’m jealous because they’re happy,” I answered.

“And you’re not?”

“That’s why I’m here right?” I spat, matter-of-factly. “Why else am I here?”

“Why do you have to be so sarcastic?” little Irene snickered.

“You’re me. I’m you. You should know.”

“Why aren’t you happy?” little Irene pressed on. “Don’t you have everything that you wanted? Your family, new friends, an opportunity to change who you were.” She breathed heavily, pausing for a moment. Then she added, “You’re away from the pain you had.”

My eyes were still closed, but I could sense the change in little Irene’s mood. It felt like a dark cloud quickly rolled over our heads, creating an eerie feeling that left me uncomfortable.

“How old did you say you were?” I asked.

“Eight.”

“Have you . . . have you met Colton yet?” I choked, feeling a lump in my throat.

“I’ve met Shane, too.”

Not another word came out of mouth. I leaned toward her, keeping my eyes closed. I wasn’t about to make her feel even worse for disobeying a simple order. My arms wrapped around her neck. My chin sat on top of her head. Her warmth wrapped around my frozen body. Tears started rolling down her cheek, making my dress wet. There was no stopping the waterworks. In front of people, everyone thought that I was the toughest little thing in the world. They thought nothing could break me. But behind closed doors, I was the very definition of a cry baby.

“Why aren’t you happy, Irene?” she asked again, hoping for an answer.

I shrugged. “Honestly; I don't remember anymore.”

“We went here to make you smile,” little Irene pointed out. “But all I did was make you feel worse.”

I grinned. “Let’s get to work then.”

“OK,” little Irene answered. “Open your eyes.”

And so I did.