Anyways, this takes place right after Alen has a run-in with a gang and gets severely beaten up.
He groaned, turning his head to look around the small room he was lying in.
It wasn’t much different from the room he had used to sleep in at Aunt Silphie’s, with a iron frame bed in the center of the room, peeling wallpaper on the walls, an old rusting desk in one corner and a rocking chair in the other. To his left was a small kitchen, with walls lined with cabinets and a few old appliances gleaming in the harsh light of a unshaded lamp.
The girl stood at the stove, stirring something in a metal pot. She was wearing a pair of old worn jeans rolled up at her bare feet, a plain t-shirt, and a shawl thrown over her shoulders. She turned to look at Alen questioningly, the smear of brown crossing her cheek giving her an almost comical look. Alen guessed her to be just a year or so younger than him
“You all right? You look awful.”
Alen smiled in spite of himself at the girl’s bluntness. “I... don’t think I have any b...roken bones.” He touched his jaw gingerly. “T...hough everything hurts like I did.”
The girl smiled sweetly, turning back to stirring her pot. Alen took another glance around the room. Most of the furniture looked to have been painted white at some time, but they were all so worn and flaking it was hard to tell. The only light came from the lamp on the kitchen counter, and a bare lightbulb hanging from a wire in the ceiling above him.
There was an old sewing machine on the desk, duct taped together it looked like, and the stub of a candle melted over an upside down cup on the nightstand next to the bed.
But what caught his eye was the stuffed animals placed all around the room. They lined the edge of the bed, sat in the rocker, were set up in a line in front of the sewing machine, peeked out of cupboards and were strewn about the kitchen counter.
Alen blinked once or twice to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. He wasn’t.
The girl stopped stirring, and shut the stove off, before reaching up on tiptoe to pull two glass bowls from one of the cupboards.
“Move, Chewy,” she said simply, brushing a stuffed bear further down the counter to set the bowls down. Alen watched her bewilderedly as she picked up the pot with a pair of oven mitts and poured its contents into a tall tea kettle. Two spoons were produced from a drawer, and then bowls, spoons and tea kettle were brought to the nightstand at Alen’s right.
The girl set them down gently, brought the rickety chair from the desk over, and proceeded to pour the contents of the tea kettle into the bowls.
“Here you go,” she said simply, handing Alen the bigger one. Alen set the cooling hot pad down on his lap and took the bowl somewhat apprehensively, peering with one eye at the liquid substance.
“Don’t worry, it’s just matzoh ball soup. Though, I don’t have a matzoh balls. So just soup, I guess.”
Alen sniffed the bowl, and found it to smell quite good, so he took a sip. It was hot, but good.
The girl smiled, and began to eat as well, alternating between taking her own spoonfuls and offering some to the one-eared rabbit that sat on the nightstand
“What’s your name?” she asked, after a time.
Alen blinked. Her bluntness was quite abrupt. “A… Alen. I’m Alen.”
“Pleased to meet you, Alen. I’m Mirra.”
Now that there's a girl in the story, I am sure it will be much more enjoyable for us gals. Thanks!
ReplyDeleteOh, I really liked the part about the matzah ball soup without the matzah balls. Did you get that idea from personal experience? (there's nothing like your mama's strange pantry fixin's right?)
Love you, Mom