The Fair
September 11, 2002
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Homework
"Jonny?" she asks.
"What is it sweetie?" John asks in reply, looking down at his oldest niece.
"Momma said you was gonna take me to da Fair." She looks up to him, her big brown eyes glittering.
"Yes, she did. . ." he starts.
"Well, we'z should prob'ly go den!"
John sighs and walks to the edge of the bank. He gazes down into the brilliantly blue water of the cove. When he looks back to Sally, he notices that her hands are balled up into tight little fists and her face is slowly turning red. He sighs again.
"Listen," he walks over to her and kneels before her. "I know what she said, but. . ."
Her eyes begin to fill up with tears, her small shoulders begin to tremble.
"I know how much you wanted to go, but there will be other better Fairs. . ." he takes her shoulders in his young, calloused hands.
"Bu' Aw wan' dis one!" she cries.
"Darlin' you shouldn't carry on this way," he looks around. "What if Auntie Petie saw you like this?"
The child sniffs and wipes her eyes and nose on the sleeve of her blouse.
"Aw dona care 'bout it! Aw just wanna be dere wiff...." she breaks off, falling to her knees and sobbing harder.
"I know, sweetie, but she can't be here to go with you anymore. You're Daddy explained it all to you...." he looks away, not able to look her in the face anymore. "I miss her too."
He picks her up and cradles her. He walks to the bank and stares out over the cove.
A single tear falls down his face to drip off and mingle with those of a now motherless, little girl.
NOTE: This was an assignment for my CCV Creative Writing II online class with William Noble.
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