Living Outside the Lines

Excerpt from “Second Story Window”

Alex sat in her wheelchair, her brown hair pulled back into a ponytail, staring out the window onto Main Street. I love being on the second floor, she thought. I can see everything from up here in my private little world.

“Alex, I have to go now. Why don’t you get the books we checked out from the library, and study?”

“OK, Mom, see you after work.”

Her mom left and Alex had the apartment to herself. She glanced around the living room of their two-bedroom apartment. The old familiar couch, chair, and floor lamp gave her comfort. Something from before, she thought. Her eyes rested on all the unpacked boxes yet to be opened. The boxes made her feel like a stranger in her new home. She wheeled herself to her bedroom and looked in. She relaxed. It looked like her room in the old house. The bed was in the same corner, she had insisted, the dressing table with her mirror, and her favorite bookshelf with all her favorite books was right by her bed. It feels like my old room; the thought made her feel safe and warm as she turned and wheeled back to the living room.

Excerpt from “Maddie’s World”

“Mommy! Mommy! Please don’t let him put me in here again. Mommy! Mommy?” Little six-year-old Maddie stands and faces the closet door; she tries the door but it’s locked. She is wearing her usual dirty jeans, and hand me down T-shirt her mom bought her at the thrift store. She can hear her mother and her boyfriend talking in the next room. Maddie reaches up, pulls a string, and a light bulb turns on, giving off a dim light. There are a couple of jackets hanging in the closet that tickle her arm. Her tangled, uncombed, blonde hair catches on a button. She pulls it loose, leaving a strand of hair. It hurts her head; her green eyes start to tear up. She sits down and begins to rock and sing.

Excerpt from “Connections”

In the city of Daegu, located in South Gyeongsang Buk-do Province in South Korea, lives Mai Lee’s family. Mai Lee is an eighteen-year-old girl who is very pretty, with fine features. She is thin and stands no higher than five feet tall. She is very close to her grandmother, Sim Chung. So on this particular day in September, Mai Lee, who is very upset, runs to Sim Chung’s home. Mai Lee bursts into her grandmother’s house, breathless. She is holding her right cheek; tears are in her eyes. She looks around frantically, then realizes her grandmother is probably upstairs in the “quiet” room. She runs up the stairs, slides open the rice-paper door, sees Sim Chung kneeling, and praying in front of the altar. While Mai Lee waits for her grandmother to acknowledge her, she studies the older woman, who is also small of stature but carries more weight than Mai Lee. Her grandmother’s black hair is beginning to turn gray. She wears it short, and tiny curls frame her face. She is wearing her usual blouse with a long flowing skirt. After a minute Sim Chung becomes aware of someone standing behind her. She asks, “Who has entered my room?”

“It is me, Halmoni, Mai Lee.”

“Why do you interrupt me at so sacred a time, Mai Lee?”

“I’m sorry Halmoni, but I couldn’t wait any longer, something has happened. I told Oma and she said she doesn’t want a daughter like me under her roof. She—she slapped me, Halmoni, she slapped me. She has never raised her hand to me before. I don’t know what to do. Oh Halmoni.”

Sim Chung bows once to the altar, gets up and walks across the wood floor to a low tea table. There are flat cushions on the floor around the table for sitting.

Sim Chung sits down on a cushion and says, “Come, Mai Lee, sit with me. Please, you pour us the tea and we’ll talk of this urgent matter.”

Mai Lee hesitates a minute, then walks over to the table. “Oh Halmoni . . . I’m so sorry.”

Sim Chung interrupts Mai Lee, “Mai Lee please, come and sit and pour us some tea, then we will talk.”

Mai Lee sits down on a cushion across the table from Sim Chung, her eyes lowered in respect for her grandmother. She takes the teapot and pours tea for Sim Chung and then for herself. Still looking at her teacup she begins speaking, “Halmoni I . . . ”

“Drink child. Let the tea center your thoughts, calm your feelings, let its heat give you strength.”

The two women sit and sip their tea each in their own thoughts.

Mai Lee says softly, “I’m afraid I have brought shame to our ancestors. Jai Cho has been gone for three months now. And I . . . I saw the doctor this morning. My suspicions were confirmed I’m . . . ”

Sim Chung looks at Mai Lee. “With child. I saw a couple of weeks ago the change beginning in your energy.”

Excerpt from “The Choir”

Kirby walks into the chapel with her torn jeans and leather jacket. Her light brown hair is cut short and spikes up with a messy look. Her intense green eyes study the stained-glass window of Jesus walking on water. The freckles on her nose, and five-foot height, almost makes her look like she is fourteen, until you look in her eyes and see the years of pain and struggle. She walks over and stands in front of the window wondering, what am I doing at a private Lutheran college? She shakes her head and looks around the chapel to make sure no one is there to hear her.

Then she looks up at the stained-glass window again and says, “Hey, you up there. Look, I’m not very good at this kind of stuff, you know, praying. But right now I really need someone to listen, and since I have no one else, I thought, well, maybe I’d try this. So here goes.”

Kirby starts pacing back and forth in front of the window. “I’ve got these voices creeping in; they’re louder than ever. Telling me I’m no good. Who do I think I am, going to college? I can’t make it here; I don’t have any talent. These voices create this thick armor around me. Metal walls that just keep everything inside. I have got to do this. I have got to make it this time. I can’t let partying or anything get in the way. I have got to do this. I just hope they don’t laugh at me.” Kirby stops pacing and looks at the stained glass. “Oh, please, look way down deep in my heart. Can’t you see the music I have in there?”

Kirby starts humming a tune. She finds a piece of paper on a table and starts writing down words, goes over to the piano in the back of the chapel, and picks out the notes she is humming. After a few minutes she has a song written down.

She looks up at the stained glass window and says, “Thanks.”

Excerpt from “BERT”

I wonder how long I’ve been sitting here? Bert thinks, as he sits on a park bench, a few trees scattered around him. He is wearing his favorite black bowler hat, and is sitting with his hand resting on a black cane that is standing between his legs. He looks around him and sees a young man running into the park. The young man’s hair is dark and curly. He is wearing jeans and a leather jacket. He sees Bert sitting on the bench and goes over to him. The whole time he is patting his pockets, a cigarette is hanging out of his mouth.

He sees Bert and walks over to him. “Excuse me.” Clearing his throat he says louder. “Excuse me, do you have a match?”

Bert looks at him curiously. “Sorry son, I don’t. You really shouldn’t smoke, you know. It coats your lungs with black stuff. Makes your breath smell bad and your teeth turn yellow. You know Gladys used to say, Gladys is my wife, she passed away a year ago next month . . . ”

The young man sits down, his left leg nervously bouncing up and down, as he looks around.

Bert continues, “Anyway, she used to say she wished no one had ever invented the cigarette. She said she saw no positive reason that cigarettes exist. I’m inclined to agree with her.”

The young man growing more agitated says, “Look, I didn’t ask for your life story, just a book of matches.”