The Knitter

Chapter 2

We are in Galveston. I see mom. Her perfect teeth shine as she smiles at me. But I'm not looking at her perfect teeth. I'm looking at her eyes. They are green with sparks of gold. Beautiful. Stunning. Knowing the answer, I ask her why my eyes turned out so dull, grey.

"You're eyes are where the sky and ocean meet after a storm."

As always, I am not sure what that means, but I unsatisfyingly accept the answer. We walk together along the beach, content with life, with everything, with the exception of the colour of my eye, of course. My six-year-old pudgy hands are wrapped around her long, graceful fingers. I hear five loud BANGS. It being mid-day, I think it strange to hear fireworks. I obviously can't see them, but I can hear them. I whirl around in the direction the sound comes from.

My mother grabs my hand and sits me on a park bench at the edge of the beach. "I will be right back," she assures me, "Don't move from this spot. I love you."

I watch as her perfect figure sprints gracefully away from me until I can't see her. After what seems like hours, I begin digging my toes into the sand. I spell out my name J-A-E-L. Then my last S-P-E-N-C-E-R. I haven't started school yet, but my mother has taught me to read and write. She would tell me I drive her insane with nothing to do.

I get bored drawing pictures and writing words and soon forget what mom told me. "Don't move."  I walk circles around the bench, feed the seagulls the bread left from our picnic. I look towards the sky. The sun is setting. I go back to the bench and lie down, staring at the sky.

I don't remember falling asleep, but I remember my mother waking me. I see something red dripping down her face. When I ask her what it is, she claims it is red paint, but I know better. We get in our car and drive hosme in silence. She will never be the same after that night, but I dont know that at the time. All I know is that something is wrong.