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Two Packed Bags |
by Hannah Gradjansky
As the big yellow bus came to a stop in the pull out, Emma reached for her sister, Niana’s hand. They leapt from the top step and ran down the long dusty driveway to the barn. Setting their school bags inside the door, Niana busied herself playing in the hayloft with her little carved horse figurines. Emma put a halter on the horse and led it from the stall. She carefully groomed its coat and placed a saddle upon its back. Having tightened the girth about the stomach, Emma called her little sister to back.
Grabbing the mane and halter with one hand and the horn of the saddle with the other, Emma hoisted herself up onto the back of the tamed beast. With Niana on a ladder, Emma led the horse over to where she could help her sister on the horse. With Niana’s small arms clinging around her waist, Emma clicked her tongue and gently pressed her heals into the horse’s sides.
Once out in the open fields, Emma pushed the horse into a canter. The girls’ hair blew wildly in the wind, little ground squirrels scurried out of the way and songbirds flitted about. Under a large oak tree, they stopped to rest. With the horse tied to a branch, Emma pulled an apple from her pocket and cut it into thirds. With an apple slice in hand, Niana scrambled up the tree trunk to explore the branches. As the sky began to darken, Emma realized it was time to head home.
“You have to come down from there,” Emma yelled up into the branches.
“Okay,” Niana replied reluctantly. “What are you making for dinner?”
“Not sure yet. Maybe you can help me tonight.”
***
Back at the barn, Emma unsaddled the horse as Niana filled a bucket with grain and threw some hay down from the loft. With the horse in the stall for the night, Emma grabbed their bags from the ground and followed Niana into the house.
“Where the hell have you two been?” Papa yelled as Emma closed the door.
“We went for a ride. We told you this morning,” Emma answered as she washed her hands at the kitchen sink.
“Niana, go get me a beer,” he yelled. “I said now!”
Niana, terrified of his flaring temper, scurried into the kitchen and found a beer in the fridge. She nudged it onto the side table next to Papa’s big chair. The bucket under the table was about to overflow with old beer cans, so she pulled it out and dragged it into the kitchen.
“Thank you,” Emma smiled as Niana entered. “You want to choose what type of pasta we have tonight?”
With dinner on the table, Emma called for Papa to come eat. Once he entered, they sat to eat. The girls bowed their head to say grace.
“Let us thank god for this wonderful food and be ever mindful of the needs of others. Momma, we love you.”
Papa threw his beer across the room, shattering the bottle, “What’d you say?”
“Nothing, Papa,” Emma answered as she covered her sister’s head. “Sorry, promise we won’t do it again.”
***
They finished dinner in silence. Once the plates were cleared, Papa took another beer and went back to watching Jeopardy, as Emma filled the bathtub. Niana hung her pink bathrobe on a hook and hopped in the warm water with a splash.
“Look what you just did!”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to,” Niana said with an embarrassed smile. “Can you tell me a story?”
“About what?”
“Momma.”
“Okay. When I was nine, Momma and Papa called me into their bedroom and sat me down on their big bed. ‘We have exciting news. You’re going to be a big sister.’ Momma’s stomach got real big. It looked like she had a basketball under her shirt. After dinner some nights, Momma would sit in Papa’s big chair and we would sing to you, while Papa played his guitar.”
“Imagine and California,” Niana chimed in.
“How’d you know that?”
“You told me. You always sing them too.”
“You’re too smart! Papa always joked you’d be born singing, since Momma sang all the time. Time to wash your hair,” Emma said as she poured shampoo into her hand.
Niana dunked her head in the water, and then Emma lathered her hair.
“Can you tell me another story?”
“I guess I could do that,” Emma went on, “It took Momma a long time to choose what color to paint your room. She painted a million different color splotches on the wall. It finally came down to the lavender and the pink. Momma couldn’t decide, so Papa convinced her to use both colors. On the weekends, we would paint. Momma would sit on a stool and get the low places and I would sit on Papa’s shoulders and get the high places. Once, I dropped a big glob of paint on his head, so Momma used it to make him look like a warrior. Then we dressed him up and took funny pictures. I have the pictures in my box. If you want to see them, I can show you later.”
“Yes please!”
“Okay, we’ll look at them before bed. Where’d you put the hairbrush?”
“I think it’s in my room.”
“I’m going to get it. No running away.”
Niana giggled as Emma left the room. With no hairbrush in sight in Niana’s room, Emma went into her own room to find a hairbrush. Walking towards her bedside table, her foot caught on a loose floorboard. She kneeled down, pulling an old, metal cigar box from under the board before putting it back in place. Seated on her bed, she opened the box. Emma pulled out a small silk pouch and opened it, inside was a long strand of pearls, which had belonged to her mother. Next, she lifted out a stack of photos, slowly sifting through them. She smiled lightly, remembering the moments captured in the photos: the first time she rode a horse by herself, the day she started riding the big yellow bus to kindergarten, when she lost her first tooth. At the bottom of the pile were the pictures of her with her parents all dressed up, with their faces elaborately painted. She remembered back to that day and how her dad used to laugh, and smile. It had been too long since he had smiled.
A splashing sound came from the bathroom. Once Emma registered the sound, her stomach plummeted and her heart began to pound in her ears. She threw the pictures on the bed and raced towards the bathroom. She crashed through the door to see Papa bending over the bathtub and yelling, “I hate you! Why’d you take Loraine away from me?” His large gnarled hands gripped Niana’s throat as her short legs kicked frantically for freedom.
“Get off of her!” Emma screamed.
Without thinking, Emma smashed the heel of her boot into the back of Papa’s head. His head hit the tiled wall with a crack and his nose began to gush blood. Emma lifted him by the back of his shirt and flung him out of the way. His limp body slid into the bathtub, as she reached down for Niana, who was sputtering and wide-eyed. With Niana in her arms, Emma ripped the robe off the hook, wrapped her sister in it and slammed the bathroom door on the way out.
On the way out the back door, Emma grabbed a pair of keys to the hay truck. She ran to the barn with Niana in her arms. She put Niana in the truck and raced to the tack room. Behind the door were two packed duffle bags full of clothes. One for Niana, one for her. Emma threw the bags in the back of the truck, jumped in the drivers seat, stuck the key in the ignition, and fired up the engine. She carefully drove down the long driveway and onto the road.
Emma sped, hugging the curves of the road tightly. Her eyes were glued to the road. They drove through pasture land, pine wood forests and fields full of crops. The headlights lit up a sign on the side of the road, 15 miles to Whitefish. Emma glanced over at her little sister and noticed she was shaking.
“We will be at Aunt Arianne’s house in less than twenty minutes,” Emma said quietly.
“Will Papa be able to get me?”
“No, of course he won’t be able to get you. It’s safe in her house. There is nothing for you to worry about.”
Suddenly smoke billowed from the engine, clouding Emma’s view of the road. She slowed down, and pulled off onto the shoulder of the road and put the hazard lights on.
“What’s wrong?” Niana asked in a panicked voice.
“I’m not sure. Everything will be fine,” Emma said as she hopped out of the truck.
Emma walked over and released the hood of the truck, propping it open with a metal rod. The engine was unbearably hot, so she didn’t try to fix anything. She climbed back into the truck and locked the doors. Niana unbuckled her seatbelt and scooted over, resting her head in Emma’s lap. She sung softly to help calm Niana, as she gently rubbed her back. Quickly, Niana fell asleep, as Emma sat there thinking about how in the past six years so much had changed: She was a big sister, Momma was gone, Papa was never happy, and now, all of a sudden she no longer had to worry about Papa’s anger. Niana and she were safe.
A truck pulled up
from behind. The driver cut the engine and the lights and got out. Emma glanced
in the side mirror to see who it was. It was a man, about six feet tall, with a
blood stained shirt. Emma’s stomach sank, Papa.