Lena's Story

Dedicated to Sarah Penner, my director and the reason this story came to be. 

I pulled on my apron with tired hands and secured a knot loosely behind my back with practiced swiftness. I let out a sigh, squared my shoulders and glanced sidelong in the mirror. My figure looked particularly droopy today, so I sucked in and stood as straight as possible. Then I faced my reflection head on. I put my hands up to my face and attempted to flatten the simultaneously creased and raised bags under my tear-drop eyes.

There was a pitter-pattering of little feet and the squealing giggle of a child, followed by the slow thudding of a man's pursuit and the growling imitation of a not-so-scary monster. I turned and plastered a grin on my face as the victim to the monster chase burst into my small pink bedroom. She was holding a ragdoll in one hand and balanced with the other flailing out beside her. She tottered to me and hid behind my legs. I chuckled and placed a hand on her head, feeling her ratted brown hair and said, "Oh no! Is grandpa trying to get you, Rosy?"

Rosy giggled in delight as a crouched-over, white-haired man filled the doorway. "The monster's a little tired now. You wore grandpa out." He directed his words down at Rosy in an overly tired sounding voice, then rolled his posture upward.

"Morning Lena," he said, and he displayed a proud smile.

"Hi Daddy." I said, and half smiled back.

 He got a strange look on his face and opened his mouth as if to speak, but he remembered Rosy playing in the corner and stopped. He hobbled over and lifted her gently by the shoulders, turning her to the door. "Why don't you go find Grandma? I bet she'd get ya some breakfast." Rosy clapped her hands and went out the door saying "breakfast" repeatedly in a sing-songy voice.

As she left my clay smile turned to dust and I leaned against the armoir, one hand braced against the antique chair. Daddy sighed and sat down on the bed across from me. He looked older in Rosy's absence, then again...so did I.

"Lena..." he said it tenderly and quietly, like if he said it too loud I might shatter. I could tell he wanted me to look at him, but those conversations always started like that, and I didn't want to hear it. "Lena," he started again, "you don't have to work so much. At least take a day off or..."

"Daddy. Stop.' I said, but he continued.

"Or don't work at all. Your mother and I don't need you to pay rent."

"Dad! Stop!." I raised my voice this time. He looked hurt but I didn't stop. "Look, I know you won't understand, but I can't stay with you for free. I've got some pride left in me. Don't insult me with your pity. I'm not some charity case, I'm your daughter." Dad was looking at the floor when he said, "I'm sorry Lena. I--It's not pity, I promise." He looked up, "I just hate seeing you so exhausted."

"I know Daddy, but I'm fine." I gave him a warning look. Cautiously he replied, "I just know your smile hasn't reached your eyes since Trent walked out on you and I..." I snapped.

"Trent was a rat. He hid when big things came and never cared for anybody besides himself. Not to mention he's a lying, cheating scuzzball who chose alcohol over his own daughter! You're granddaughter! I don't want to hear his dirty name coming from your mouth ever again, ya hear?" He nodded and his Adam's apple bobbed once as he swallowed hard. I disrespected him and I knew it, but I stood my ground. "Good." I said, and stalked quickly from the room.

Walking around the corner to the kitchen I smelled bacon and promptly heard the sizzle on the stove. The dining room table came into view and I saw my mom stooping over Rosy's plate, cutting the pancakes into smaller bites for Rosy to chew. The time on the clock above the fridge said 7:15 am. No time for breakfast. So I met the plate of pancakes in three long strides, thanked my mother, kissed Rosy on the head,and half-jogged out the door.