Stupid pen. Stupid notebook. Stupid funeral. He gives the pen one shake, two, does that trick his mom (no, he ain't gonna cry again, he's all cried out, he's all cried out, he's...) showed him one time -- licks the end of it -- and tries again, but the thing won't work. It won't work at all. That's when the lady with the yellow hair walks over and sits down by his side.
"I'm very sorry about your mother and father, James."
She's pretty and he doesn't know her, but there's lots of people here he doesn't know. He wonders what she wants, and how come she don't just go away and leave him alone.
"You ain't got a pen on you, do you?"
"Oh, you don't want a pen." She reaches over and smooths down his hair like mommy used to do and that almost makes him cry again 'cause he can't believe she's gone, but like his Uncle Doug says, ain't nothin' to do about it but be a man, understand what things have to do with you and what things don't, and get on with things except only he ain't got the slightest idea what getting on with things means. He's just a kid, and they're still deciding what to do with him.
"What do you mean I don't want a pen? Can't you see I'm writing here?"
The lady laughs and it's a soft laugh, not all mean and angry or fake and loud or full of concern like they shouldn't ought to be laughin' around him since his parents died, not that kind of laugh. "Pens are permanent. But I do have this." Drawing a pencil out of her purse, she hands it to him. "It's got a good strong eraser on it too."
"What do I need an eraser for, lady?" His eyes fill with tears but he blinks 'em back. Like Uncle Doug said, it's been an e-motional day all around.
When she stands she's real tall, real pretty, and she leans over and pats him on the head. "Sometimes we want to hold onto the past and sometimes we want to let it go. Have faith in yourself, James, and have faith in God's will. Listen to what you know in your heart, not to what anyone else tells you."
Yeah, like you, he almost says. Right now he don't have much faith in God or in His will, but he takes the pencil and a moment to think about what she's said and starts up writing again.
Dear Mr. Sawyer, he writes, You don't know who I am, but I know who you are, and what you done.
"Hey, lady? What do you know about God's will? You think it was God's will killed my mommy and my dad?"
She's gone when he looks up and all the grownups are too busy to notice, so he reads what he wrote, studies his pencil for a minute, then erases everything on the page. When his Uncle Doug comes up and asks what he's writing, his answer is honest.
"Nothin'. Uncle Doug?"
"Yeah? Come on, Jimmy, we gotta get to the cemetery."
"You believe in angels?"
"Angels and demons, Jimmy, I believe in 'em both."
He takes his uncle's hand, dependent for a moment before remembering he's eight years old now and can stand on his own.
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Sawyer
Date: 2010-05-31 09:04 pm (UTC)"I'm very sorry about your mother and father, James."
She's pretty and he doesn't know her, but there's lots of people here he doesn't know. He wonders what she wants, and how come she don't just go away and leave him alone.
"You ain't got a pen on you, do you?"
"Oh, you don't want a pen." She reaches over and smooths down his hair like mommy used to do and that almost makes him cry again 'cause he can't believe she's gone, but like his Uncle Doug says, ain't nothin' to do about it but be a man, understand what things have to do with you and what things don't, and get on with things except only he ain't got the slightest idea what getting on with things means. He's just a kid, and they're still deciding what to do with him.
"What do you mean I don't want a pen? Can't you see I'm writing here?"
The lady laughs and it's a soft laugh, not all mean and angry or fake and loud or full of concern like they shouldn't ought to be laughin' around him since his parents died, not that kind of laugh. "Pens are permanent. But I do have this." Drawing a pencil out of her purse, she hands it to him. "It's got a good strong eraser on it too."
"What do I need an eraser for, lady?" His eyes fill with tears but he blinks 'em back. Like Uncle Doug said, it's been an e-motional day all around.
When she stands she's real tall, real pretty, and she leans over and pats him on the head. "Sometimes we want to hold onto the past and sometimes we want to let it go. Have faith in yourself, James, and have faith in God's will. Listen to what you know in your heart, not to what anyone else tells you."
Yeah, like you, he almost says. Right now he don't have much faith in God or in His will, but he takes the pencil and a moment to think about what she's said and starts up writing again.
Dear Mr. Sawyer, he writes, You don't know who I am, but I know who you are, and what you done.
"Hey, lady? What do you know about God's will? You think it was God's will killed my mommy and my dad?"
She's gone when he looks up and all the grownups are too busy to notice, so he reads what he wrote, studies his pencil for a minute, then erases everything on the page. When his Uncle Doug comes up and asks what he's writing, his answer is honest.
"Nothin'. Uncle Doug?"
"Yeah? Come on, Jimmy, we gotta get to the cemetery."
"You believe in angels?"
"Angels and demons, Jimmy, I believe in 'em both."
He takes his uncle's hand, dependent for a moment before remembering he's eight years old now and can stand on his own.
"Good."