Friday, February 19, 2010
Zoe's "The Cheever Arms" (WINTER)
10:35 AM |
Edit Post
Edit Post
by Zoe
Fedor chifted in the next room and the pages of his magazine rustled. Margarete came in with two mugs of tea and set the larger, blue-black mug beside him. She rolled her eyes and internally laughed. Fedor couldn't read english. He was looking athe pictures, the way children do. Now she laughed out loud. That was quite a thought! Her husband, an eighty-five year old Russian, the same as a little child.
They didn't talk much anymore, but sat in silence. It was comfortable enough and part of their routine. When you're old that's what happens. Life becomes a quiet routine.
Tap-tap-tap.
"The door," Fedor grunted without looking up from his pictures. Margarete was surprised. No one came calling anymore. Who could it possibley be? They didn't have any children, and had barely ever spoken to the other tenants of their building. She shuffled towards the door and, after unlocking four locks and swinging open the door, she saw a teary-eyed little girl. It clicked for Margarete. It was the girl from upstairs! Her pig-tails were perfectly even and her dress was tidy. What could be distressing her so?
"I'm locked out," she proclaimed, and then she sniffed. Margarete stared baffled. She couldn't even remember the last time she saw a seven-year-old. After a few moments, the girl just walked in. By the time Margarete recovered from the shock, and shuffled back into the sitting room, the young girl had climbed into Fedor's lap and was babbling away.
"Then, I shook the door really hard and it was still locked! I ran back downstairs, quickest I've ever run, Fedor, but my mom was gone! I had no where to go, so… I came here. I'm glad I did. I like you." She liked him? The girl had barely been here a minute! Margarete shook her head.
"That's very nice, Tatum," Fedor said. He looked pleased. He knows her name. Margarete had never seen Fedor like this—with a child! Smiling!
"What are you reading? I'm such a good reader! Let me read it to you so you can see!" Tatum said, and took the magazine, adding, "Please." She flipped through a few pages and picked an article. Just like that, Fedor had use for the magazines he gets every week.
"When is your dad coming home?" Margarete asked. She knew he was a fireman. What was his name? Chris? Colby? Oh, Charlie! Right.
"I don't know," Tatum said, not even looking up from the magazine. Clearly she didn't care about going home.
"Why don't you make a snack?" Fedor said. Margarete wondered if he was trying to send her away. She looked between the old man she called her husband and the little girl who just forced herself into their lives. Giving in, Margarete shuffled to the kitchen. Between slicing carrots and pouring juice, she heard laughter—the girl's first, but then, Fedor's! She smiled, and her eyes filled with salty tears. Fedor's deep and scratchy laugh always filled her with an inexpressable joy. She hadn't heard it in years, not since their early American days.
"This girl will be good for us," Margarete whispered to her self.
Labels:
fiction
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
4 comments:
I really like it, Zo! The story is great. There is a small spelling error at the beginning, "athe pictures".
I really liked the whole "the door" grunt thing. good showing there.
also, maybe remove your hotmail signature next time :P
But yeah. nice job.
love this! :) You have a little spelling error in the first part: chifted instead of shifted, I think. Great description!
Hi Zoe. I decided to leave your scene on the site as encouragement for those in the class who are writing this weekend.
Post a Comment