She smiled at me during reading class. I smiled back. I'm not sure what made me do that because normally I would of looked away, perhaps even made a face. I still found girls to be icky at that age. I kept my "Cootie Spray" on hand at all times, just in case a girl would get too close, or God forbid touch me. Lela was new in school. Flowered tennis shoes. It's all I can remember of what she wore. Pink and green flowers on white low cut canvas. Her laces matched the shoes. One lace pink, the other green. They were cute. She was cute. She was shy. Although, for whatever reason, she wasn't shy with me. Initiating eye contact and sharing a smile was a testament of that. Rotating from the swings to the monkey bars. It took just one recess and a handful of spins on the merry-go-round before we became fast friends. She lost her hairclip during all the dizzy fun. I promised her I would find it. I was late lining up to go back into class, but her once lost hairclip was now safely resting in my corduroy pants pocket.
I can still picture her like it was yesterday, if yesterday was 20 years ago. That small beautiful face. The pinkish hue in her cheeks. The warm chocolate color in her eyes. She had puppy dog eyes. Big and round. Soft and brown. They were adorned with the longest lashes I have ever seen. Her laugh - the kind that's contagious. She tried to conceal the dimple in her right cheek, but it made it's presence known even when she wasn't smiling. I secretly felt it was her best feature. It may of been a turning point for me when I started to discover that maybe some girls were not really icky after all, but rather adorable. How that single dimple in her smile now haunts me.
The smell of oranges. She loved to eat those. Her hands were always cold and sticky from the citrus. I feel her hand in mine as we race to the pool. Thorn bush scratches on our ankles, shins and knees. The thorn bushes were thick. We had to cross thru those. Beyond the thorn bushes to an empty pool. No water. Just cement. It all makes sense now. This is where she always wanted to go. To wash it away? But there was no water. Nothing was pure. Innocence was lost, long before the pool ran dry. There is no water pure enough to wash away the sin. I never told my Mom. I never told anyone. There was something wrong at Lela's house. Something was going on that wasn't normal. Something didn't feel right. Something felt piercing and comfortless there. Like the way worn cement from a drained swimming pool feels on the bottom of bare feet.
Her mother was soft spoken. She seemed to be kind and caring. That was all I could gather about her because she was hardly around. When I would go to Lela's house to play after school, her mother was always on her way out, either to the store or to work. Lela's father was always home. Back then, I didn't know why that was. I just knew my Dad worked long hours and Lela's father never had to. Or maybe he didn't want to? Looking back, I know he was an alcoholic. Looking back, I now realize he was alot of things, none of them good. If you would ask me to describe him in one word, I would choose "intense". He was a very, very intense man. I didn't like him and neither did Lela. Although he seemed to be very fond of her, too fond. Stuff it down and avoid the admittance of hard truths. That would be my motto to survival. She must of floated above her body and became numb to reality, or at least that is what I imagine. Sometimes you have to live that way in order to survive.
There is a law that states...if you see a car accident and you don't stop to offer help, then you are committing a crime. I may be guilty of keeping my hands clinched firmly in my pockets while witnessing a train wreck. What was occurring in Lela's home was nothing short of that. I didn't want to look, but I couldn't help but see there was something very wrong going on. In all honesty, I didn't want to know. I just wanted it to get better. I was only 7. I didn't know exactly what was wrong, I just knew something didn't feel right and she didn't talk about it. Lela's relationship wasn't normal with her father. (I use the phrase "wasn't normal" to spare myself from conjuring up the repulsive memories that to this day, still turn my stomach.) I wasn't fully aware of the situation. It was confusing to me. Lela just seemed unhappy, even scared. And it scared me. I stopped going to her house. I didn't want to play there anymore. I started inviting her over to my house after school instead. She never accepted. She said she wasn't allowed. That probably was the case, but I took it as "she didn't want to be my friend anymore."
School was out for the year. The summer came and went. I returned to class late in August eager to see Lela, only to find no Lela. After the first week of school was over, it became apparent to me. Lela wasn't in another classroom this year. She didn't enroll in the private school a few miles away. She was gone. I had no idea she was moving, where she had moved to or even if she had moved at all. I have no idea what happened to her. I just knew Lela and her laugh had vanished. I hope that Lela's Mom took her to someplace nice. Someplace where thorn bushes or anything else couldn't hurt you. A place where all the swimming pools were filled with fresh, clean water. A place where she became exhausted from laughter. Where she giggled so much that she got hiccups. Where her giggles echoed across the playground as she spun out of control on a merry-go-round of fun. I hope she packed her dimple with her. And I hope she left her Dad behind.
I don't know exactly what went on in Lela's house, but over the last 20 years, I'm 99% sure her father should be serving time in prison if he isn't already. I am nearly positive that something evil took place. Things that should only be heard in a confessional. I don't like watching the movie Forest Gump. Lela is Jenny. The scene where she runs into the field and asks Forest to pray with her. "Dear God, make me a bird. So I can fly far. Far, far away from here." I hope that is all that happened to Lela - that she was turned into a bird and flew far. Far, far away from here.
to be continued...
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