The Park Bench {on hold}

brittle bones

brittle bone disease (n) a condition in which people have fragile bones that break easily

Crookedly toddling on the muddy pathway wrapping around the edge of the park, Hilda glances the water. At the edge of the lake, she spots countless fireflies zooming in and around the cattails. She steps on a rock and loses her footing. She yells as she falls to the ground and hits her frail back.

Someone rushes over and grabs her arm, "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

"Ouch!" she yelps as the older woman tugs her broken arm.

"Are you okay? Wait, did you fall on your hand?"

"Just...let me be! Thanks for your help and all, but I'll be fine on my own" whispers Hilda, cradling her arm.

The older woman kneels to Hilda's level, "I'm sorry. I hope I didn't make it worse. Is there anything I can do?"

Just as Hilda opens her mouth to reply, a young toddler comes speeding in. "Kistie! Kistie!"

Hilda smiles, despite herself, and inquires, "Is he yours?"

Chrystie grins with her teeth, "You would think so, wouldn't you? Nah, I'm just babysitting him."

"Oh, phewsh, I was thinking to myself that he doesn't look anything like you at all."

Chrystie's wide smile diminishes slighty, "Hmm, I guess that's true."

A silence encompasses them, but the quietness is not awkward. It seems to brush over each of them bringing them together. Chrystie notices Hilda's slight shiver and offers Hilda her light blue cardigan.

With a slight struggle, the two women work together and stand up. They stroll along and sit down at a small brown park bench under a tree.

*

"And she doesn't even know you?" repeats Hilda, with a amazed expression on her face.

Chrystie exclaims, "That's what I was saying! Being neighbors is nothing. When I was in high school, we had this one neighbor who grew tons of fruits. Every winter, she'd drop off about 10 apples, and that was it. Sher never dropped by a kid!"

Laughing, the corners of Hilda's eyes crinkle with amusement, "I've never even met my neighbors. They might be vampires because I have never seen them out in daylight."

"Speaking of daylight--or rather the lack of it--Hilda, darling, it is getting pretty dark out here. I'm taking Ronaldo and going home. Do you want us to walk you back?"

"It will take too long. It took me half an hour to walk here, and I live only 2 blocks away. Go ahead, I'll be fine on my own."

Concern kicks in as Chrystie realizes how young and fragile Hilda is. She looks more intently and sees the youth in Hilda's eyes. The older woman insists, "No, I'm taking you home. It'll be no problem. Is there anyone at home awaiting you?"

Hilda laughs with a childish charm, "How young do you think I am? I'm 23 years old. I honestly am good to go."

A frown on her face, Chrystie turns away and calls, "Ronaldo!"

A little boy with green eyes and white hair comes running at the two girls screeching, "Vroom, vroom. You can't catch me. Vroom, I'm so fast."

Ada's little boy child with dark brown eyes and light brown skin chases him, "Wee-oo! Wee-oo! I'm a police car. Wee-oo!"

*

Chrystie climbs the stairs with difficulty, one hand holding Ronaldo and the other grasping the railing. Their building's elevator broke, again.

Grunting slightly as her knee cap cracks, Chrystie and Ronaldo return back to the third floor.

Chrystie knocks on room 37, using one hand against the wall to balance the kid slouching heavily against her.

The door swings open to reveal a drowsy Ada. She throws Chrystie a grateful smile, who returns a genuine "no-worries".

The older lady ambles to room 35, fumbling with her keys. She glances at the clock and grimaces as she realizes she is missing one of her favorite shows.

She throws her purple overcoat onto her dining table and flips herself onto her plush white sofa. As she sinks into the soft material, she turns on the television, losing herself into the bright colors.

*

"What the hell?---No, of course, you already bought them---You should have asked me!---That is not your job! You have one job and that is not it!---You know what? I'll talk to you later, freaking idiot," rages a young teenager.

Looking at him, Hilda could never have guessed he was a loud person. Maybe eccentric, but not loud. He wears a hoodie and some basketball shorts, but he also adorns dress shoes and a tie. But she remembers the old saying never to judge the book by its wildly fascinating cover. She goes back to reading her magazine and semi-babysitting Ronaldo.

The boisterous boy groans and plops himself on the bench beside Hilda. He pulls his hood over his face so it stretches to cover his face. Yet the hood inches up so Hilda can see his chin and a little bit of his nose if she looks closely.

She does. She also observes the logo of EHA Summer Camp on his hoodie. Hilda wonders what it means but doesn't bother asking him. He looks stressed...well his chin looks stressed.

Just as she is about to tap on his shoulder, Ronaldo jumps gallantly off his favorite swings. He falters and drops back on his butt. Immediately, Ronaldo begins to wail.

Hilda places her weight on her one good arm and slowly inches her body off the bench. She waddles over to where Ronaldo cries on the sand and sits beside him. As she hugs Ronaldo, she notices the boy watching her out of the corner of her eyes. Smiling to herself, she hugs Ronaldo tighter, who promptly feels better and runs off to play with his friends.

Unable to pick herself back up without an obvious struggle, Hilda remains sitting on the sand, warm from the sun. Despite the occasional summer rains, the city stays bright because the sun is always shining.

She lays against the poles of the playground play set and looks down to read her magazine.

___

Hm, don't you guys wonder who this new character is?

Me too. ;)

-parisa

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