My Life In Solid Pieces

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

I opened my eyes to find the usual stain on the ceiling. The oddly shaped ‘splat’ that rounded above my head. I swung my legs over the edge of my bed and found the cold tile floorings. As usual my pale naked body was covered in Goosebumps. I looked down in disappointment. My frail legs shook, as I stood tall, but weak. I wandered over to closet and put on my housecoat. My nervous eyes scanned the room as I listened for footsteps; nothing. Quietly I tiptoed over back to my bed, I listened for signs of my mother; again nothing. I reached under my bed and found a scared piece of mirror; I look at the scared and tired face staring back at me. I tilted my head, observing the little girl in my eyes. The floor cracked and my head flashed towards the direction of the sound; outside my door. My eyes went wide and my stiff body wasn’t reacting. “Think. Think!” I demanded from myself. Without looking I threw myself into bed nearly stabbing myself with the shard. “Now what!?” I think to myself, looking at the broken mirror. The door opened and I shoved the broken glass under my box spring, cutting my hand.  I bit my lip in pain. The door swung open and in came my mother. Why do I feel surprised? Who else would it be? See my father, walked out, I guess, on us. I actually don’t know, I never met him, but my mom still wears a wedding ring.

“Oh, good! Your up!” my mom said nervously. I gave her a reassuring smile.  “OK, so, I’ll leave you” she said leaving. The door closes and I immediately lunged forward, cradling my hand. A sound escaped my mouth.  I swallowed hard and looked at my hand. I couldn’t fully open it but even half closed, it was a mess; a puffy purple line surrounded the wound. Blood trickled down my wrist. “What am I going to do with this?” I thought to myself. A quick panic rushed over my as I thought of what to say to mother. I’ll tell my sister, I tell her everything! My sister, Bridget, is my only friend; because we live so far out I never met any one else. WE would always joke about one day leaving and going to the big city and becoming famous and living in a big house with electricity! But I know it’s only a dream. I look down at my hand again, no better. ‘Damn, why aren’t we allowed mirrors!’? I thought to myself. See mirrors are forbidden here. I found this on the ground beside a broken mirror in town. I got changed in my usual dress; I looked down at it in sorrow. This isn’t what I want to wear. I want to wear t-shirts and skirts, or sweaters and snickers! But you can’t wear that in the Amish life. Not all Amish people are like us though. See my grandparents died from a scared mirror piece that punctured their heart and lung, so my mother demonized them and called them ‘satins reflection’ and that I’d be looking right into the devils eyes in one. Whatever.  

“Ik ga moeder” I say as I left (I’m going mother). Amish people’ are usually Dutch, but only my mother is in my family. WE often speak English but in sacred rooms like the kitchen, dining room and church do we speak Dutch. Were the only family I know that does this. “Wachten” she called after (wait). I paused. My heart was racing and my mouth was dry. I looked down at my hand I was holding. “Ja?” (Yes?) I said as I turned around, placing my hands behind my back as I do. She gave me a suspicious look, “waar ga je heen?” She asked (where are you going?) “Um…” I stutter, “de… uh…” I clear my throat “de schuur” I finally said (the barn). She nodded. With a sigh of relief I ran out the kitchen door onto the pasture. The air was warm and brisk; I felt it as it entered my lungs. The barn door was closed as usual; mother doesn’t like the idea of owls or mice getting in. Nothing happens next; I fetch my horse, ride, come back, eat and sleep. This was the typical day, until that one day. I still remember it. My sister was four years older than me but that didn’t make any difference. We were the same height, weight almost, our hair was the same… she was I, only better. Anyway so obviously my sister got a job before me; her job was working at a hospital. Now I don’t know all the details but I know she worked with a lot of the medicine. I remember getting home, taking off my shoes and hearing crying coming from my mother’s room, “ma?” I called. No response. I tip toed over to the hallway leading to my mother’s room; the door was cracked open. I don’t speak, just listen. I see my mother sitting on her bed, her hands cupping her face. Before I can see anymore a dark figure stands in the way of my view. “Mom?” I call. The dark figure turns around and opens the door. “Mom” I say my voice cracking. She stays still. The dark figure comes out of the room and I can see it’s a man. He had dark hair so short you could barley tell it was black, he had a stubble remains of a beard and has a sympathetic look on his face. I clear my throat, “hello” I say firmly. His mouth spread to a smile;

“Hello princess” he said reveling a pair of stained teeth. I slowly back up; I can smell alcohol on him. “Come here” he says opening his arms. I hastily walk forward and into his grip. He dramatically exhales letting out a pint of beer in his breath. I stay still. He releases me and his face goes back to the sympathetic look he had before. I clear my throat again trying to keep away tears, although I’m not sure why I’m crying. I nod my head as if to say ‘excuse me but I don’t know you, and frankly you scare me! Now can I please go to my mother’. As if he could read my mind he nods back as if to say ‘I understand, she’s in her bedroom’. I pass him and walk to my mother’s room. It seems to take forever to get there even thought it’s no more that eighteen feet. I get to the door and knock softly on the chipped paint around my mom’s door. Her head lifts revealing red, dry eyes and dried tear lines running down her face. “Mom” I say almost crying. “What’s wrong?” I say strongly, chocking back tears. I don’t even bother to ask if there is  anything wrong. She takes a deep breathe, “come here” she says softly gesturing to the space beside her. I sit, and she tells what happened. My sister was working with penicillin today and went into anaphylactic shock and died before they could get her to the hospital. She tells me the man in the hall is my father and that he might live with us.

This is all I remember before I wake up.