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Chapter 1:- Chapter 1
I begin to notice that people step around me slowly. They speak in low voices. They habitually put their fingers up to their lips while speaking as if they mean to say, “shhh.” They lift the tips of my blouse as if it is the rubble of Dresden.
“Connie.” says David.
David has been my friend for the last sixteen years of my life. David, I hate David. David doesn’t know when to shut up.
“Connie-“ he says again, then stops as if he has finally noticed the little bits of blood on my hands in the shape of orioles.
“Connie, are you OK?” he asks. David is an idiot. David notices nothing and I want to kill him. I want to stuff the dead leaves into his stupid mouth.
“I’m fine,” I reply, which is what everyone says when they are harboring a secret. A secret so wide and so deep you could swim in it.
I go to the sink and wash my hands. I begin to laugh because this is kind of ironic – we wash our hands of this, as the saying goes, and also she had blood on her hands. David seems puzzled, but David always seems puzzled lately, so I keep laughing. I barely notice that the harumph-ing sound of the giggling is slowly turning into sobs.
David, I am sure, hears me crying and does not return to the kitchen. He knows better.
I begin to notice that people step around me slowly. They speak in low voices. They habitually put their fingers up to their lips while speaking as if they mean to say, “shhh.” They lift the tips of my blouse as if it is the rubble of Dresden.
“Connie.” says David.
David has been my friend for the last sixteen years of my life. David, I hate David. David doesn’t know when to shut up.
“Connie-“ he says again, then stops as if he has finally noticed the little bits of blood on my hands in the shape of orioles.
“Connie, are you OK?” he asks. David is an idiot. David notices nothing and I want to kill him. I want to stuff the dead leaves into his stupid mouth.
“I’m fine,” I reply, which is what everyone says when they are harboring a secret. A secret so wide and so deep you could swim in it.
I go to the sink and wash my hands. I begin to laugh because this is kind of ironic – we wash our hands of this, as the saying goes, and also she had blood on her hands. David seems puzzled, but David always seems puzzled lately, so I keep laughing. I barely notice that the harumph-ing sound of the giggling is slowly turning into sobs.
David, I am sure, hears me crying and does not return to the kitchen. He knows better.
