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BeckyBecky didn't think of herself as being any different than any other kid. Sure her skin was getting worn in some places and one of her eyes was becoming looser by the day, but that all could be fixed. Other kids however, were pretty freaked out about her. You would have been too if you had been there, that first day of school. Seeing Becky drive up in such a large car, in a neighborhood where most people struggled just to make the rent, was not a way to make friends fast. Neither was having your mother walk you into class with all the pomp and pageantry usually afforded a royal wedding. [I wish I was invisible] Becky had silently thought to herself. She of course didn't quite understand other children yet, but she knew enough to see that this was going to be a long year. Michael had argued that she should go to school alone but mother wouldn't hear of it. Mother had insisted on taking Becky there and speaking to her teacher personally. Such things, she said, could not be left to just anybody. Besides since Becky had never been outside of the sprawling estate, she had little experience dealing with other people. Mother worried that those "little fucks" might take advantage of her, and possibly even hurt her. Only mother, she said, could love her enough to do what was best for her. And she swore that no one would ever hurt her child. Needless to say, Becky came home that first day, face filthy and wet, more from her hurt feelings than her torn and dirty clothes. Mother clutched Becky to her bosom and promised that she would see to it that each of those "little bastards" would be punished. Mother then sent her away and started to rant and rave herself into a fit, nearly collapsing with rage. Silently but right on cue, Michael arrived with her drink. And as she drank it and drifted back into infinity, Becky silently cried herself to sleep, as she had done so many nights before, and tried not to think of anything.
The next day had been no different for Becky as the same melodrama was played out with the same cast and a few minor variations. Only this time she had not come home crying. She was quite proud of herself for that. No matter what those girls called her, or how many times they pushed her, she did not cry. She smiled silently to herself. Mother looked at her with a look that could have made the devil shit in winter and said, "I don't see what's so funny you little shit." Becky stopped smiling. Mother took another drink. As she sat and mother continued on with her performance, she thought how old and tired Mother sometimes looked. Her shrunken hands shook nearly all the time now, nearly spilling as much as she drank. She was nearly bald but wore the most horrendous wig imaginable, Becky often thought it might get up and run off her head. Her skin had yellowed to the color of musty newspapers and she often stank of far worse. She however, still saw herself as the stunning woman she once was, back when she paraded around toying with men and their simple minds. And no one ever contradicted her for fear of their well-paying jobs. To Becky though she seemed the definition of age, although Becky didn't know exactly how old Mother was, or for that matter exactly how old she was. It had never really occurred to her to keep track of things like that. For as far back as she could remember she had been around and couldn't really recall a time before her. But then again, it really didn't seem that long ago. Apparently one day she was just there without much fanfare. Everything had pretty much remained the same then as it was now. She would wake when the light in her room grew bright. There would be someone there to dress her. Then she would be taken downstairs to Mother, who would be at breakfast. There she would sit and listen to Mother talk. Sometimes it would be about the things she had to do that day, other days it was about things done before or about people Becky did not know, and other times it would be about nothing much at all. But no matter, Becky would sit still and listen, quiet as a mouse. She was quite good at that. It seemed that everything might continue like this, until the day that old man had come over. He seemed to be of some importance since Mother had made quite a commotion at breakfast preparing for him. After all it wasn't often they had visitors. He passed to Mother a number of papers which she seemed to regard as important. Becky couldn't be sure what they were since she was hidden up near the top of the stairs. Mother had told her not to come out of her room, as she did whenever strangers came over, but curiosity got the better of her. So after Michael left her room, after locking her in, she managed to sneak out and spy on her mother. She really couldn't hear the details of what they were saying to each other but she did manage to catch a few words. They seemed to be talking about school and Becky. Although she had never seen one, she knew that school was a place where kids went, to do what, she didn't really know. Michael had tried to tell her about it one night as he put her away for the night, but she really couldn't remember now and it made her head hurt to think about it. They had seen a bus of kids pass along the road below the house while outside one day, and he had began to talk of his school for the rest of the day. He spoke very fondly of it, and she thought she might like to do those things he talked about, if she only knew what they were. But as the door locked into place, her mind forgot all about school and the darkness closed in for another night.
Becky liked to look out the window of her second floor classroom at everyone outside during recess. Sometimes she felt as if she was looking through the bottom of a coke bottle, like the one she found that one day in the yard, that made the world seem like it was swimming far off in the distance. Everything that was happening on the other end seemed to dreamy and unreal. It was only when she pressed her face onto the cold glass that the mirage stopped. She stood and watched the boys, their smooth legs moving so very quickly and strong, their still developing faces growing red with fatigue and excitement. She would see the girls huddled together eyeing the boys who were playing near them while pretending not to notice them. She would notice the kids who weren't really a part of any group off to the side by themselves. They were locked as much in their own world, as she stood in hers. She wanted to be down there more than anything but she couldn't. Her Mother had specifically ordered the school not to let Becky take part in any recreational activities with other kids. Becky was at school to learn, not to be handled and bullied by strangle little kids, she had flatly stated. One teacher had filed a complaint with the officials at the school once, concerning the increasing insanity of Becky's developing situation with the other children and her treatment by her mother, but once construction of the new school building started, a product in large part to a large contribution of an "anonymous" donator, he became strangely silent on the subject matter and soon thereafter found himself unemployed. Becky continued to look at the children running around the playground. She looked down at her own legs. How strange they seemed to her. How hard to believe they were really a part of her self. Such flimsy things really. They could bend every which way and weren't very sturdy. Plus they were getting quite worn in quite a few places. She sometimes wondered how they managed to get her anywhere at all. She looked back outside as she heard a loud cry. One of the boys had fallen and scrapped his knee. His blood seemed such a stark red against his smooth skin as the teachers rushed toward him. Does my blood look like that Becky thought. She couldn't remember ever seeing her blood. She watched him as he leaned against a teacher, trying not to cry as the other boys looked on. Becky grabbed a pair of scissors without really thinking about it. One of the teachers had placed some sort of cloth on the cut, while another reassured him. The boys fear seemed to be subsiding as he realized the cut wasn't life threatening and soon regained his composure. He seemed to regard the blood with some scrutiny and interest as the teachers worked to carry him to the nurse. The other kids looked on for a moment awed by the sight of spilled blood, but once they realized that nothing out of the ordinary had really happened they quickly resumed their games. Becky gazed at the scissors she now held in her hands. It was a hypnotizing sight as she slowly moved the blade back in forth, trying to catch her reflection in a blade. She looked up for a moment at the sound of someone unlocking the door to the classroom she was in. When she looked back down all she saw was the blade deep in her leg and the torn cloth all around it. Almost immediately the world slipped out form under her and she collapsed onto the floor.
She awoke to a strange sound near her. She looked down and saw Michael leaning over her leg which rested on the cold steel plate of some strange machine. His hands pushed her leg slowly toward a large needle that manically sped up and down. The sound it made reminded her of the sound her head made when she was being yelled at by mother, constant and overpowering. She looked at Michael and he looked at her and smiled. "Don't worry we'll have you fixed up in no time Becky, good as new", he said reassuringly. She didn't feel a thing as the pin furiously pounded her leg again and again. She laid back down and startled to find her mother sitting across from her. Her head lay slumped over her chest in an almost painful way and her arm swung lazily from the armrest of the chair. A glass rolled lazily back and forth in accordance with the rhythm of the swinging arm which rocked it gently to sleep. Even though her mother lay miles away swimming in a opium sea Becky still saw her eyes staring through her as she drifted back off into her silent sleep.
The next weeks passed by fairly uneventfully. Only the changing seasons gave notice to the passing of time for Becky. The refreshing cool of autumn gave way to the bitter cold of winter, which always made Becky feel a little stiffer in the morning. Every now and then the decorations around the school and her classroom changed, from bright orange pumpkins to a large stupid looking bird, called a turkey, to a beautiful tree decorated with lights and wisps of silver hair. As they went along the school year she noticed a subtle change in the students as they awaited Christmas. The teasing she had once suffered on a daily basis earlier in the year had all but ceased. No one was particularly friendly toward her but then again no one went out of their way to be particularly mean to her either. She felt much more comfortable in her class now, even through she occupied a place of near non-existence. Every now and then the teacher would lock the door and turn off the lights at recess only to remember that Becky was inside. Other than that she was quite content with her situation. Becky found herself sitting in front of the school waiting for Michael on the day of Christmas vacation. She hoped mother wouldn't be with him today. She wanted to hold on to the feeling she felt long as she could. The entire school had celebrated a Christmas party. She didn't receive a gift from anybody but she really didn't mind. Just looking at everybody laughing and singing songs together was enough for her. She had for a brief time felt like a real person in the class and wasn't quite ready to let go of it yet. "Hi", someone said directly behind her. The sound had startled her and she jumped. She turned around. One of her classmates who sat near her stood in front of her, smiling. "I'm in your class, my name in Amanda." Becky continued to look at her. "Your name is Becky right?, Are you waiting for your ride?" Amanda asked Becky nodded. "Do you mind if I wait with you?" she asked. Becky shook her head and moved over on the small bench she sat on. "So, did you hear about....." Amanda began to talk about other girls in the class and what they had got from certain boys, and about what she was doing for the holidays, and what she wanted for Christmas, and this and that. Becky felt overwhelmed at the sudden influx of input. She attempted to nod and shake her head where appropriate but mostly she listened. She was quite good at that. Becky couldn't help wondering who this girl was who had wanted to talk to HER, she was so excited she nearly missed everything that was told her. Finally when Amanda seemed to run out of things to talk about or breath, Becky really wasn't sure, she said," I like you Becky, you're a good listener." Becky's eyesight began to get blurry and she tried to make herself blink. "Here I want you to wear this bracelet so you can remember me during the holidays." She handed the bracelet to Becky. "Well my mother's here I need to go but I'll talk to you when we get back form vacation, bye!"
Becky watched her walk to the car and drive away and almost didn't notice
her mother walking sternly toward her until she was on top of her grabbing
her by the arm and practically dragging her to the car.
"Are you listening to me?" Mother angrily asked. Becky stayed silent and
tried to hum the song they had been singing before she left. Mother grabbed
Becky and threw her across the car. "You stupid little fuck!! You will
talk to me!" Becky remained silent. "You'll never have any friends you
little freak, Shits like you never do." Becky wanted to cry but she didn't.
She was proud of that. Her mother continued to scream at her, stopping
only long enough to throw her every now and then, until she fell back
into her seat exhausted and finished off her drink. Becky remained silent. Michael looked at her in dismay, "What?" "You heard me. That damn child is getting old and is more trouble than she's worth already. Call the school tomorrow and let them know. Just put her with damn the rest of them." Michael looked at her for a moment and began to say something, but thought better of it and instead said, "As you wish madam."
It didn't take long for Michael to wash her and finally fix her loose eye. This made Becky felt better than she had in a long awhile. He unlocked the huge chest and readjusted the positions of the hundreds of dolls already in there. Hundreds upon hundreds of dolls piled on top of one another, their names as familiar to him as his own children had once been, Veronica, Monica, JoAnne,.... Some were more worn than others, some more memorable than others, but now all of them stared with that same look of oblivion on their faces, still and uncomprehending. He picked up Becky from the chair. He looked at her and noticed something different about her from the others, but he couldn't say what it was.
"Where the hell is my fucking drink, Michael!" he heard the bitch
scream. He shrugged and placed Becky comfortably on the top of the pile,
closed the lid and locked the chest.
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© Omar Leal