She watches people going about to and from other places. Sometimes talking and sometimes even doing things together. There are even other children and sometimes they play together. Although she cannot bear to bring it to her lips she tells herself People like me do not belong out there. People out there do not know me, and are probably better off not knowing about me, or the house I live in. Behind the window and the door is where People like me belong."
At times when the sun is hidden behind the clouds and when it rains she consoles herself with the thought of being safe behind the window. Safe behind her window looking to the outside she cannot feel the cold or the wind that looks frightening nor be pelted with the rain that falls so very cold and hard. “People like me are safe behind the window and door from things like that."
There are times when the girl ventures outside the house. She will open the door step outside to feel the sun, the breeze and to walk among the people and children outside. The girl has learned that people cannot tell she is People like me just from looking at her. It is only after spending some time with her that the girl will notice a change in the way people talk to her, and realize that they are figuring out that she is People like me.
The girl has learned to conceal herself by trying to be Someone she is not. "If I am not me then they will not figure out that I am People like me. It is a careful balancing act of trying to be someone the people out there will like having around. But there are allot of people out there and they all like different things. It can be at times a tough act to follow. When finally exposed the girl runs back to the safety of her house.
In her house are the memories of everything that Once was including all the good and the bad. These memories in and of themselves have no feelings. The only meaning the memories have is the meaning the girl gives them. When the girl goes outside she gathers new memories and keeps them in her house. But besides the memories that she has gathered there are the memories she has no choice in having. Bad, hurtful things, these are the memories of things that have happened to her.
She knows in her heart of hearts that no one not even her deserves to have been through the painful experiences of her life but this feeling is locked up in her heart. Bearing the pain of livening with this undeserving hurt is what makes People like me. With no other choice she too has become People like me.
There are times when the other children will knock on her door and ask her if she can come out to play and sometimes she would. Precious and few are the moments where she can enjoy the company of other people. But they do not last and the longer the girl is at ease with other people the more likely she is to let her guard down. Managing just how close and how far away to have people in her life has become a constant tug of war. She feels that the closer she is to others the more likely that they will figure out that she is People like me. Although she can always go back to her house she also knows the emptiness of living with the Once was’s instead of living with What could be more.
Once again the girl finds herself looking out the window. Although she never saw who walked up to the door. She heard the knock on the door. Having not seen the person walk past the gate to her yard and hearing an unfamiliar knock the girl struggles with the choice to open the door or stay put. Lost in the moment of What once was’s and the What could be more’s the girl noticed a boy walking back towards the gate. It was too late he was already leaving. The more she thought about it his leaving was almost a relief. Then she saw him close the gate and turn around to see her in the window, relief oddly turned into curiosity.
He had the reckless abandon of a carefree smile as he kept his gaze upon her. He was not mad at her, there was no judgment passed for her not opening the door no look of contempt or condemnation. Instead there was a confident look that seemed to ask "What are you waiting for?"
The boy's patience had given the girl the time and space to awaken the girl’s desire of What could be more. The girl quietly and cautiously walked past the Once was’s then opened the door to the outside. She could still see him just past the gate. He wasn’t going to and from one place, he wasn’t playing with the other people, he was waiting for her.
Although she knew just how many steps it was to the gate from her door this time she didn’t feel the need to count them. Instead the boy’s smile seem to draw her nearer and nearer. As soon as the girl had closed the gate behind her she nervously asked "What do you want from me?" There were people from out there that had come to know her as the Person she was not instead of the Person she is, and maybe this boy was here for the same reasons the other boys had come to see her for.
With a smug but puzzling look the boy answered "I don’t want anything from you. I was just thinking that today was a beautiful day to talk a walk outside and was wondering if maybe you might want to take a walk with me?"
The girl coyly replied "Yes I will walk with you." On the outside she became the Person she is not to protect the Person she was. The girl had seen this come on before and knew it would only be a matter of time when the boy would reveal himself as being just like the other boys who did want something from her.
They had spent a wonderful afternoon. Just walking and talking. There were times the girl slipped and revealed herself to him. When she felt the nervous pangs of having just slipped she would nervously look for the change in the boy revealing that he had figured out that she was People like me. Instead she found only acceptance and understanding. It was like a breath of fresh air long in the waiting.
After being walked home by the boy and safely back in her house the girl carefully set her new memories in a place where they would never be lost. Few and far in-between were the good memories and it was all too often when the good was lost with the bad. But this time she was extra careful.
...CONTINUED
Howdy Rowdy. My name is Troy Prichard. I am 49 years old and I live in Omaha, Nebraska. I am not published, nor do I write professionally. I do have to admit I am really twisted, but I like it this way. In the long run I will write books but for the time being I am warming up with short stories. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it.
