#Writing his name in a diary with sparkly pink pen over and over

[dirtclump]

These Eyes of Mine

I wrote this for class maybe I like it, maybe I don’t.

I’ve been watching all things happen before me. Miss. Water has drowned the tallgrass shore and the maple tree roots. She too wanted to coat my lungs in her lukewarm body. I couldn’t feel the oxygen left inside me, but I knew it was there since I was floating. These eyes of mine, the only thing left of my former life, looked up to the baby blue, summer sky. 

In the days before my time in the river, I lived with my Momma. Our home, a beaten-down, tall, white building felt vacant. Maybe cuz Momma kept it so cold, she liked cold. Even in the winter, I’d catch her relaxing in her bedroom with her cracked window, January breath whisking in. Momma and I lived in Austin, Minnesota. She got the house from her daddy, he left it to her in his note. I knew he wasn’t set to die the day he did, but what I did know, Momma had anticipated it since she was a girl. When the sheriff handed her the note, written on lilac colored paper she looked down at me. I was young, a first grader, but Momma did not think of me as a youngster. 

“You read it to me, baby”, she muttered to me.

“OK”, I responded. Then I recited, “Sappy crap isn’t my forte, I’ll make this short. My daughter, Lauren, gets my house. She gets my money and my debt too. My granddaughter, Libby, gets my books, pens and paper. The rest is all nothing. Bury it, trash it, I don’t give a... S-word. See ya, Don. PS: burn me”

Momma didn’t utter a word after I read the note. She pulled it from my grasp, and watched her daddy get wheeled out with a sheet draped over his corpse. That night we moved in.

Fog always coated Austin, it really laid on thick in the far south end of the town. The Cedar River sluggishly waded underneath this fog. No one liked to fish on that part of the river, they couldn't see anything. We lived farther from the river than others, fine by me seeing how Momma and I didn’t know how to swim or fish. The maple-basswood forests were dense throughout the river's edge. Those trees hovered over the water like Momma would hover over my crib when I was a baby. When we drove past em, I imagined them crashing into the river, creating bridges for me to cross. 

My first day of 7th grade Momma made me walk to school without her, my hand held a pine stick instead of her. 

“Those kids will taunt ya,” She explained after I had whined for her to join me. She hugged me tight before she pushed me out the front door. The September clouds wasn't too bad compared to spring fog, but still, I walked with caution for critters and cars. I stared ahead, into the fog for a long while. My body started to feel weightless. I’d put my hands before me, they’d turned translucent grey, merging into the clouds. Maybe Momma would’ve been scared seeing me turn into a cold cloud, yet peace came with the transition. Up ahead, the school mounted on fresh concrete. Going inside meant fog and I would part ways. 

“You weren’t always fog, Beth,” I mumbled repeatedly as I got closer to the towering glass doors. I must have been late, I was the only somebody around. The tan gravel roads that poked at my soles abruptly stopped as I tripped up onto the school's land. Grasping the cold metal front door handle, my body hallowed out all the fog, back into a state of usual weight. 

The school was almost sterile looking, nothing like my colorful, playful middle school. So much was white: the floor tiles, ceiling tiles, the walls too, only had two thick blue and golden stripes wrapped around the building. Overhead light bulbs shined brighter than the sun ever had in Austin, a headache was sure to come from em. Must need all such bright lights to make up for no windows… I thought as my eyes dragged across the school's layout, not a single window existed where I stood, maybe not a single window in the entire building?

“Hey! Where are you supposed to be?” A voice belted from the right of me. I don’t take well to loud, pokes of tensity developed in my throat and stomach. “Girl! You ain’t hear me?”, I was called at again. The aggression made me turn towards the voice, in order to keep them from angering themselves further. A tall bald man headed towards me, he wore a green polo tucked into his dark blue jeans. His beer belly pressured the synthetic fabrics strength, and his leather belt too. He had a furrowed brow, and plump cheeks that were red like Santa Claus. He wasn’t jolly like Santa, though. 

“I don’t know where I’m meant to be. I think I’m late,” I replied to Santa. 

“You don't have a schedule? Every student gets one in the mail, you have mail don’t you?” He sneered. I could tell he was trying to be smart, since Momma always points out when someones being smart. 

“I suppose not. Must’ve been lost,” I fibbed, sometimes the mailman didn’t bring our mail, cuz Momma had told him to buzz off  after he tried to woo her. Couldn’t say why he felt so riled by my response, but he grabbed my arm with sweaty grubby fingers and pulled me into the office. It smelt like plastic in there.

“This student claims to have no schedule. Found her wandering the halls,” Santa told a tiny blonde haired woman typing on a large keyboard. 

‘Alright, what’s your name dear?” She asked, looking up through pink rimmed glasses. 

“It’s Beth. Beth Opheilia,” I replied. “O-P-H-E-I-L-I-A,” Momma tells me I always have to spell out my name, or people will butcher it.

The school bell made a “RINNNNNNGG” sound, everyone seemingly sprinted out of their classes. White lit up hallways were coated with students and their puffed up backpacks. Bodies raced passed me, some pushing my shoulder and arm into other bodies. At a point it began to seem that others were walking for me. I didn’t need to look ahead or watch my step, the crowd of tall teenagers guided me to the exit. 

Abruptly, no one was in the school anymore. I was staring in front of those metal doors I was once on the other side of, the handle was just as cold as it had been in the morning. Pulling the swinging door into the school, what was left of the mornings fog spat onto my bare face and arms. I left the school, quickly walking home to Momma for the afterschool snack she always made me.

Our house smells like cinnamon and coconut today. Momma comes out of her frigid bedroom when she hears me let go of my backpack and shoes. She hugs me with cold skin and a lingering cigarette smell. Momma doesn’t smoke cigarettes. 

“Is someone here?” I ask her. She has mascara, lipstick and blush on her sharp face, but she’s in her pajamas. “Did you work today, Momma?” I ask her. She looks to her bedroom door, then turns back to me with a grin.

“I made you a cinnamon peanut butter jelly sammy, it's sitting in the toaster oven,” She says with a smooth, relaxed voice. Swiftly, she walks back into her bedroom and shuts the heavy wooden door.

Sitting alone, eating. She usually sits with me and asks me about my day.

 I feel lonely. 

Momma arrived home today in a blue ford truck. She is supposed to be home before me, I stared out the window for at least an hour waiting for her. The truck's front door swings open, a burly guy comes out, I hadn’t seen him ever in Austin. He wore torn up blue jeans, a dark flannel, and a fishing hat. He had a cigarette clenched between his teeth. The man opens the passenger door, and my Momma steps out well holding onto his hairy hand. 

With a tiny pit in my stomach, I slouch into the couch I had been waiting on for her. Clammy hands of mine try to grab crumbled papers out of my backpack, I could be busy when they come in. The front door lock jiggles, my mother pushes it open. 

“Beth! Where are you?” Momma yells. She jumps when she notices me sitting on the couch. “Oh! Beth, you scared me!” 

“Sorry, Momma,” I responded. 

“Beth, I want you to meet a good friend of mine. This is William,” She gestures towards him with a toothy smile, he wraps his arms around her waist. I stare blankly. He stares back. He has moles sprouting on his neck and face, dark set eyes, and a trimmed beard.

“Don't be rude, Bethy! Say hello” She scolds me. 

“Hello,” I mutter.

“Hello Beth, your Mother has told me a lot about you” He says with a grin. His teeth are stained yellow.

“Where were you? You’re always home waiting for me. I was alone,” I stammered to Momma. William watches me and I feel like a rodent.

“I was- Well, we were shopping for some new clothes for you,” 

“You didn’t leave a note. You don’t have any bags either,” I say as I furrow my forehead. 

“Well, we couldn’t find you anything…” She asserts, William watches in silence. 

Friday, July 30th 

In 3 days I am turning 13. Momma says teenagers are snotty, they don’t listen. I promised Momma yesterday I would not be snotty. She and William are spending almost everyday together. Momma lets him stay nights, she sleeps, but I hear him dragging his heavy feet along our creaky wooden floors throughout the night. Momma doesn’t tell me much, even when I ask. William has only been in Austin for 2 years… I heard a shopkeeper whispering about my Momma and him when we were at Macys yesterday. Oh, I got my birthday dress! It is blue and sparkly, and Momma had a coupon. I am so excited to be 13, maybe Momma will let me get a job, or get a fish! I’ve been visiting this fish at the pet store for weeks, no one wants him! I could take care of him. Anyways, Momma is taking me to get ice cream soon, so I oughta stop writing. 

I put down my pencil and wrap the purple ribbon around my diary. Skipping out of my bedroom, I stop once I notice William in the hallway, blocking me from my Momma in the kitchen.

“Beth. Hows about I take you to get ice cream, your Mom is feeling a bit under the weather today,” He proposes, in a demanding tone. 

“I don’t know, she said she’d take me…” I say as I lean my eyes to find my Momma. She sits at the kitchen counter, sipping tea. Her hair is matted and she's in her bathrobe.

“Don’t force your Mom out of the house when she’s feeling sick. Come on, we’ll have fun,” He assures me. I do not like William, but I have been waiting to get ice cream for days. Plus, the sun is starting to set so I can’t walk to get it on my own.

“Okay,” I responded. Hugging my Momma goodbye felt different, her body felt boney and clammy. 

She whispered in my ear, “Be careful,” before I pulled away.

Williams' truck smelt like chewed tobacco and cigarettes, sortof how he smelt, always. The car ride was bumpy, like he hit every pothole in Austin. I just watched the skyline out of my window. I liked how the wheat fields blew in the wind. I liked the teenagers riding their bikes, soaring like birds. I liked the rabbits that hopped across the gravel roads. 

“BLUNK” the wheel screamed as the trunk fell and then rose. With this I realized we were not near the center of town, where the ice cream shop serves. 

“Where are we going?” I question William. He turns his head to me, with chew tucked in his lower jaw, he looks at me up and down.

“We,” he smiles, “we are going to the river,”. 

“Momma doesn’t like me to go to the river,” I tell him. 

“It was your Momma’s idea, she thinks you oughta learn to swim, if you're going to be a teenager soon,” He declares. I look out the window, twilight teases the sky. Through my window I see Turtle Creek, we must be close, I know Cedar River meets the creek. 

“But, it'll be dark soon,” I complain, a feeling of tacks jumping around my stomach arises. He does not say anything, instead he presses the gas pedal a little harder. 

Abruptly, his car gerts forward. He reaches over my lap, and opens my door. I unbuckle, and hop onto the ground. For a moment, he stays in the car, silently. The sound of toads and crickets echo around me. Staring at the merge of Turtle Creek and Cedar River, I remember when I became fog, months ago. William slams his truck door closed, he tucks something into the back of his pants. 

“Let’s sit. You can dip your feet in for a while, and then hop in,” He demands. He leads me closer with his hot hand on my mid-back. As I sit, so does he, it brings me comfort he isn’t going to be hovering like a willow tree. 

As he smiles, he whispers, “You know, I love your Momma. You love her too? She sure does love me, more than any woman has before. Take off your shoes,”. I don’t look at him, I focus on untying my worn Converses, slowly. “Everything I do these days, I do for your Momma,”.

Slipping off my shoes, I look up at him. His smile widens, and his arms push into my body. I quickly slip into the muggy creek. It is too shallow for me to sink, instead I stand back up. My butt hurts from hitting a sharp rock. Before I can turn to him, a new pain shocks my body. A jute rope rings my neck, and it feels like cold gasoline is running through my blood. 

The things that followed don’t concern me, not that I even remember most of it. The first thing I lost was my idea of time. It could be my 2nd day floating in the Cedar river, it could be my 30th. The second thing I lost was my body, I did not feel it decay and be eaten by little bugs and animals. The third thing I lost was my Momma, her face is a blurred blob. Sometimes I see her as this cartoon, from Peter Pan, Wendy's mom. I wonder all the kind things she did for me, I wonder if I loved her or if I hated her. My brain is fleeting, soon I won’t understand anything. 

There is something that hasn’t started to evaporate from my being. My eyes. I still see the sun rise and set. I still see the bass fish scamper pass me. I still see the trees waver above me. I don’t know if I will keep my eyes, I can’t be worried either. There is no anxiety, no anger, no content, or happiness towards anything. I simply watch all things happen around me.