What her eyes could see. chapter 5 (unfinished)

It was Saturday, my favorite day of the week. No school, no homework--just me, the sunshine, and twenty-four hours of freedom. Bolting from bed, I started to pull on a clean pair of overalls before catching the frazzled ends of my hair with ponytail bands. Seeing a glimpse of my reflection, I paused, my hands clasping the overall hooks on my chest. I studied my freckle-nosed self in the mirror, unimpressed with my boring hazel eyes, long, horsey face, and dark, spider-leg lashes...and sighed. Maybe someday I’d look more like a girl, like the one who lived next to me...Nearly tripping in my haste, I scrambled down the stairs and into the kitchen, where mom, garbed in her pink robe and matching slippers, was shuffling around making coffee for my dad. Her smile was already in place, having appeared at the sound of my graceless tumble down the stairs; her eyebrows went up when she took her first look at me, bemused at my disheveled appearance.

“Going somewhere so early on a Saturday morning, Natalie?” I merely nodded, opening the fridge for the milk with the orange lid, which identified it as two-percent. She and Dad drank from the green-lidded jug: it was skim milk and barfingly disgusting. Its aftertaste was not one easily forgotten. Mom set a plastic bowl and metal spoon at my usual place at the table while I snagged a box of Cinnamon Life cereal. “Are you going to play with that girl across the street?” Her eyes watched me from above the flowered mug of coffee she’d lifted to her lips.

“Yes'm,” I mumbled around a spoonful. Sure, if you wanted to call it play. It was more like observing a person with an unstable mind entertain themselves, but....different. Still, I was doing a lot more watching than actually doing. I finished my bowl with an obnoxious slurp, which my mom sternly rebuked.

“Sip the last of the milk from the bowl, honey....can’t you be more of a lady...?”

“Yes'm.” I placed my bowl and spoon in the sink, ran some water over it, then gave my mom a quick hug. The light pressure on the top of my head by my mother’s lips made it clear to me that she wasn’t angry enough to keep me from my Saturday plans.

“You have a good time with that neighbor girl, alright? Stay out of trouble....and mind your clothes. I just washed them yesterday.” She swatted my bottom.

“O-KAY, mom.” The front screen door closed with a slam behind me. And there she was, standing on my front porch, her face a beam of sunshine. She didn’t even have to say ‘good morning;’ her lit expression said it for her. “Hi,” I said, blinking in surprise. It was like she had been anxiously awaiting me. This thought warmed me more than the rays streaming down from the sky. “What are we doin’ today?” I asked, my gaze taking in her blue gypsy skirt and daisy yellow top. All I got was a firm shaking of head and a secretive pursing of lips as she reached for my hand.