Read Online Friday Edition, The by Betta Ferrendelli - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Betta Ferrendelli
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standing there for a long time, but she didn’t. What does a five-year-old know about the concept of time? What did she know about hours, minutes and seconds and what it meant to put it all together?
“Mother had said she would be in the bathroom ‘a while.’ We knew when she said ‘a while,’ it meant she did not want to be disturbed. I was happy to oblige. The less I had to talk to her, the better,” Sam said.
Sam shifted her weight to her heels, and pressed her back against the wall and, as Jonathan settled in his office chair, she told him what had happened on that fateful Christmas day.
Robin wanted things to be different, at least on that day. It was, after all, Christmas. Robin wanted to open presents when her mother finished in the bathroom. She never liked dolls much. But there had been one in particular she often saw on television this holiday season. It had caught her attention. Each time she saw the commercial, she wanted the doll more. The one and only time Robin sat on Santa’s lap, she had asked for that doll.
Robin was excited for Christmas to come because Santa Claus had promised her that she would get her doll. This was also the first Christmas the sisters had put up a real Christmas tree. Robin remembered her mother saying at other times that there wasn’t much money. But this year, much to Robin’s delight, things were different. There were presents beneath a tree.
Robin had waited at the bathroom door long enough, and finally called out to her mother just as Sam was walking by. She didn’t want Robin to get in trouble for disturbing their mother, so Sam put her hand on the knob and turned it. The door popped open.
“Mommy?” It was Robin’s voice. No answer.
The sisters hesitated before stepping into the bathroom. They knew their mother’s temper and didn’t want to make her angry, at least not on Christmas morning. All Robin could think about was the package with her name on it, waiting under the tree. It was big and pretty, with a large white bow centered neatly on bright red paper.
They stayed at the door, thinking her mother had not heard them.
“Mom?” Sam called hesitantly.
They waited, but heard nothing. Robin poked her head inside the bathroom, her blue eyes darting from side to side, surveying the small room. It did not seem hot and steamy the way it always did when mommy took a shower. Sam looked in over her shoulder.
From their angle at the door, they saw their mother’s foot, dangling slightly over the edge of the bathtub. It was one of those old fashioned bathtubs that stood so high off the floor that little Robin couldn’t see all her mother’s body. Except her foot.
“Mommy?” Robin called again. Her eyes were riveted on her mother’s foot, which hung as still as a mannequin. Robin started to enter the bathroom, but Sam stopped her.
“You wait here,” Sam said and she mustered the courage to walk into the bathroom.
Robin ignored her sister’s command and followed her. They hedged toward the tub. The stocking feet of Robin’s black and white polka-dot pajamas felt sticky. She lifted her right foot from the floor and saw that the sole had turned a different color, a color that Robin had seen only once before. She had cut her finger badly on the rim of a coffee can that summer. She remembered watching as the blood oozed from her middle finger and dripped on her shorts. There was a lot of blood. She cried and screamed when her parents took her to the emergency room, and even more when the man at the hospital put stitches in her hand.
Their mother had scolded Robin for bleeding on the carpet. Then she scolded Sam for not watching her sister. Robin had been grateful her mother hadn’t slapped her. She didn’t want a beating to go along with the terror of cutting her finger.
But summer was all gone now. Robin tugged on her sister’s nightshirt. “Look,” she said to Sam, pointing to her stocking foot. Sam’s attention dropped to the bathroom floor
“Mother had said she would be in the bathroom ‘a while.’ We knew when she said ‘a while,’ it meant she did not want to be disturbed. I was happy to oblige. The less I had to talk to her, the better,” Sam said.
Sam shifted her weight to her heels, and pressed her back against the wall and, as Jonathan settled in his office chair, she told him what had happened on that fateful Christmas day.
Robin wanted things to be different, at least on that day. It was, after all, Christmas. Robin wanted to open presents when her mother finished in the bathroom. She never liked dolls much. But there had been one in particular she often saw on television this holiday season. It had caught her attention. Each time she saw the commercial, she wanted the doll more. The one and only time Robin sat on Santa’s lap, she had asked for that doll.
Robin was excited for Christmas to come because Santa Claus had promised her that she would get her doll. This was also the first Christmas the sisters had put up a real Christmas tree. Robin remembered her mother saying at other times that there wasn’t much money. But this year, much to Robin’s delight, things were different. There were presents beneath a tree.
Robin had waited at the bathroom door long enough, and finally called out to her mother just as Sam was walking by. She didn’t want Robin to get in trouble for disturbing their mother, so Sam put her hand on the knob and turned it. The door popped open.
“Mommy?” It was Robin’s voice. No answer.
The sisters hesitated before stepping into the bathroom. They knew their mother’s temper and didn’t want to make her angry, at least not on Christmas morning. All Robin could think about was the package with her name on it, waiting under the tree. It was big and pretty, with a large white bow centered neatly on bright red paper.
They stayed at the door, thinking her mother had not heard them.
“Mom?” Sam called hesitantly.
They waited, but heard nothing. Robin poked her head inside the bathroom, her blue eyes darting from side to side, surveying the small room. It did not seem hot and steamy the way it always did when mommy took a shower. Sam looked in over her shoulder.
From their angle at the door, they saw their mother’s foot, dangling slightly over the edge of the bathtub. It was one of those old fashioned bathtubs that stood so high off the floor that little Robin couldn’t see all her mother’s body. Except her foot.
“Mommy?” Robin called again. Her eyes were riveted on her mother’s foot, which hung as still as a mannequin. Robin started to enter the bathroom, but Sam stopped her.
“You wait here,” Sam said and she mustered the courage to walk into the bathroom.
Robin ignored her sister’s command and followed her. They hedged toward the tub. The stocking feet of Robin’s black and white polka-dot pajamas felt sticky. She lifted her right foot from the floor and saw that the sole had turned a different color, a color that Robin had seen only once before. She had cut her finger badly on the rim of a coffee can that summer. She remembered watching as the blood oozed from her middle finger and dripped on her shorts. There was a lot of blood. She cried and screamed when her parents took her to the emergency room, and even more when the man at the hospital put stitches in her hand.
Their mother had scolded Robin for bleeding on the carpet. Then she scolded Sam for not watching her sister. Robin had been grateful her mother hadn’t slapped her. She didn’t want a beating to go along with the terror of cutting her finger.
But summer was all gone now. Robin tugged on her sister’s nightshirt. “Look,” she said to Sam, pointing to her stocking foot. Sam’s attention dropped to the bathroom floor
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