Read Online The Tricking of Freya by Christina Sunley - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Christina Sunley
Tags: Family & Friendship, Iceland
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remembering like a dream teaching myself to spin back
home in Connecticut. I couldn't imagine it anymore, whirling myself around,
or even climbing a tree. My legs and arms felt heavy, my feet dragged when I
walked. I lay down on my stomach and pressed my face into the grass. If
Mama woke up again, would she still love me?
On the sixth day after my cartwheel, at 7:38 p.m., Mama woke up.
"Why did she wake up at night," I wanted to know, "instead of in the
morning?"
Birdie stared at me in disbelief. "It doesn't matter when, silly. She woke
up! She woke up!"
Birdie grabbed me by the hand and pulled me through the house.
"Anna's awake!" she chanted. Anna's awake!" I sang it too, but I couldn't bring myself to call my mother Anna. So Birdie sang "Anna's awake" and I
sang "Mama's awake" at the same time. We ended up on the green couch,
gasping for air. Then I ran to the front door. No sign. I sat down on the
stoop. It was nearly nine o'clock, and the sunset still glowed behind the
trees. I turned my head back and forth, up the street then down. Not a single car in motion, or person. Gimli was tucked in for the night.
"What are you doing?"
"Waiting for Mama."
It turned out Mama wasn't coming home that night, or the next night either. She would check out of the hospital tomorrow, then stay at Vera's for a
few days while she regained her strength. But Sigga-Sigga would be home
tomorrow night.
"And look at you. Pale as a ghost." For the first time since Mama's accident Birdie opened all the curtains in the house, and the windows. "Air," she
proclaimed. "Air, and light, and water. Tomorrow we're going to the beach."
The lake was blue as the glass ink bottle Birdie kept on her windowsill,
sheening with light, and so big you couldn't see the other side of it. It
seemed more ocean than lake. The beach ran as far as I could see in either
direction, wide and flat and filled with people. Family after family packed
together on the sand. I could hear the high-pitched shrieks of kids and
gulls.
"The mob has descended," Birdie proclaimed. "Summer's here, and all
the city folk swarm to the lake at Gimli like lemmings to the sea. Welcome
to Gimli, home of the gods, your place in the sun! You don't see them up here
in winter, when the lake is covered with ice and the wind'll bite your nose
right off." But she didn't seem to mind. In fact, she seemed happy again,
fluttering down the beach in her floral jacket like a wild pink kite. We took
off our shoes and the sand felt warm and rough on the skin of my virgin
soles. I carried my sneakers with the laces tied together, twirling them in
my hand. Birdie wove in and out among the people on their blankets, kids
racing back and forth, women in swimsuits lying on beach chairs. I followed in her wake, struggling to keep up. Sometimes she waved a hand here
or there, but she never stopped to chat. Finally she picked out a spot at the
far end of the beach.
"Far from the madding crowds," she said. The crowds didn't seem mad
to me, but I said nothing. I didn't want to wreck her mood; I'd seen by then
what Birdie's moods could do. Birdie spread a plaid blanket on the sand,
then held a towel around me while I changed into my blue checkered
swimsuit. I thought of it then, for just an instant: my sailor cap. Birdie forgot my sailor cap.
Birdie lay down on the blanket and pulled a book out of her bag. "Go
play, sweetie," she said. Instead I sat on the sand. Playing, like spinning,
didn't feel right somehow. As if I wasn't a kid anymore.
"All right then," Birdie said. "How about a swim?"
I shook my head.
"Okay, scowly face, I'll go by myself." She stood up and slipped out of
her jacket. Underneath she wore a two-piece bathing suit. I'd wanted a twopiece suit, but Mama said it wasn't proper attire. Then Birdie was off, kicking sand in a spray behind her, and without even stopping to test the
temperature with her toe like my mother always did, she rushed straight in
home in Connecticut. I couldn't imagine it anymore, whirling myself around,
or even climbing a tree. My legs and arms felt heavy, my feet dragged when I
walked. I lay down on my stomach and pressed my face into the grass. If
Mama woke up again, would she still love me?
On the sixth day after my cartwheel, at 7:38 p.m., Mama woke up.
"Why did she wake up at night," I wanted to know, "instead of in the
morning?"
Birdie stared at me in disbelief. "It doesn't matter when, silly. She woke
up! She woke up!"
Birdie grabbed me by the hand and pulled me through the house.
"Anna's awake!" she chanted. Anna's awake!" I sang it too, but I couldn't bring myself to call my mother Anna. So Birdie sang "Anna's awake" and I
sang "Mama's awake" at the same time. We ended up on the green couch,
gasping for air. Then I ran to the front door. No sign. I sat down on the
stoop. It was nearly nine o'clock, and the sunset still glowed behind the
trees. I turned my head back and forth, up the street then down. Not a single car in motion, or person. Gimli was tucked in for the night.
"What are you doing?"
"Waiting for Mama."
It turned out Mama wasn't coming home that night, or the next night either. She would check out of the hospital tomorrow, then stay at Vera's for a
few days while she regained her strength. But Sigga-Sigga would be home
tomorrow night.
"And look at you. Pale as a ghost." For the first time since Mama's accident Birdie opened all the curtains in the house, and the windows. "Air," she
proclaimed. "Air, and light, and water. Tomorrow we're going to the beach."
The lake was blue as the glass ink bottle Birdie kept on her windowsill,
sheening with light, and so big you couldn't see the other side of it. It
seemed more ocean than lake. The beach ran as far as I could see in either
direction, wide and flat and filled with people. Family after family packed
together on the sand. I could hear the high-pitched shrieks of kids and
gulls.
"The mob has descended," Birdie proclaimed. "Summer's here, and all
the city folk swarm to the lake at Gimli like lemmings to the sea. Welcome
to Gimli, home of the gods, your place in the sun! You don't see them up here
in winter, when the lake is covered with ice and the wind'll bite your nose
right off." But she didn't seem to mind. In fact, she seemed happy again,
fluttering down the beach in her floral jacket like a wild pink kite. We took
off our shoes and the sand felt warm and rough on the skin of my virgin
soles. I carried my sneakers with the laces tied together, twirling them in
my hand. Birdie wove in and out among the people on their blankets, kids
racing back and forth, women in swimsuits lying on beach chairs. I followed in her wake, struggling to keep up. Sometimes she waved a hand here
or there, but she never stopped to chat. Finally she picked out a spot at the
far end of the beach.
"Far from the madding crowds," she said. The crowds didn't seem mad
to me, but I said nothing. I didn't want to wreck her mood; I'd seen by then
what Birdie's moods could do. Birdie spread a plaid blanket on the sand,
then held a towel around me while I changed into my blue checkered
swimsuit. I thought of it then, for just an instant: my sailor cap. Birdie forgot my sailor cap.
Birdie lay down on the blanket and pulled a book out of her bag. "Go
play, sweetie," she said. Instead I sat on the sand. Playing, like spinning,
didn't feel right somehow. As if I wasn't a kid anymore.
"All right then," Birdie said. "How about a swim?"
I shook my head.
"Okay, scowly face, I'll go by myself." She stood up and slipped out of
her jacket. Underneath she wore a two-piece bathing suit. I'd wanted a twopiece suit, but Mama said it wasn't proper attire. Then Birdie was off, kicking sand in a spray behind her, and without even stopping to test the
temperature with her toe like my mother always did, she rushed straight in
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