A Heartbreaking Winter’s Tale
I trudged along the snow-laden sidewalk like a polar bear in a bulky whiteish coat that was two sizes too big. Its once bright white faded to a grayish hue. It had an ugly matching hat that tied under the chin. It was 1967 and I was six years old, wearing my sister’s hand-me-downs and my yellow boots from last winter. Mother said we couldn’t afford new ones. My cramped toes suffered under the tension and my little feet nuzzled against the vinyl for any semblance of warmth.
Mother had shunted me out the door leaving me with an irritated parting message. “Hurry up or you’re gonna be late.” I flinched at the sharp tone and my heart thumped against my ribcage. Was she mad at me again?
Sunlight glinted off the piles of white heaped to the side of the path I followed. The glare obscured my vision for a moment causing my eyes to water. I fought a gust of wind that kicked up a squall of snow. The flurries hit me in the face. A drop of mucous slid out of my cold, red nose. Sniffing violently wasn’t enough to stem the flow. I reached up to wipe away the slime, adding it to the dried snot on my mitten from yesterday. My thumb poked through a hole in the material and was graced with the gunk. In an attempt to pull the digit back through the tear, my brown-bagged lunch slipped from my hand.
The sheer mass of my coat knocked me off balance when I bent to pick it up. Skirt, tights, and brown bag were now victims of the snow, each sporting wet spots. Get back up or you’re gonna be late.
I passed the Becker’s house, then the Trieber’s. Long icicles ending in spikes hung from their gutters. Someone lit a fire. The scent of burning wood wafted up my runny nose. Smoke billowed from the Rosman’s chimney. A squirrel scampered past, leaving tiny paw prints in the snow. Leafless trees, weighed down by snow, formed a canopy of white above.
Our block was much like others in the neighborhood, the cape-style homes, small but suitable for young families, now looked like pretty gingerbread houses coated in snow. Ava, my cousin and princess of the family, made it clear that she lived in the mansion, and I lived in the maid’s quarters.
A few more houses and I reached the corner. I looked both ways then rushed across to the big house, the mansion. I pressed the doorbell and waited. Time ticked by. In a frenzy I jabbed the buzzer three times. Finally, the door flew open. Aunt Milly’s lip curled into a cruel smile. “Go to the back door and wait,” she scoffed in a malevolent undertone, sounding like a wicked witch with ill intent.
I shuffled around back. There was no doorbell so after a few minutes in the biting cold I rapped on the door. “Aunt Milly,” I wailed. No answer. I knocked harder. My face stung from the frosty air. I banged again with my little mittened hand.
Aunt Milly cracked open the door and the smell of fresh-baked muffins drifted out. “Ava isn’t ready,” she said with a scowl.
Left in the cold, I hopped from foot to foot to keep warm. That only added to the pain in my aching toes. I wasn’t sure how much time passed, but it felt too long. Pins and needles tingled in my cheeks.
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Aunt Milly had always treated me like I was an annoying gnat or worse, gum on the bottom of her shoe, but she wasn’t the only one. Father’s family was a mean bunch.
The sun hid when clouds elbowed their way in. I lingered steadfast — a skinny shivering soldier in mismatched garb. The school bell chimed in the distance. Panic swooped in my belly like butterflies doing backflips. Despite the icy chill, beads of sweat dripped down my back.
Brrrrrrriiiiing — the school bell tolled. A feeling thick with dread invaded my tummy. I’m gonna be late. I tapped on the glass window pane, dejected. I struck the wooden door again. Silence answered and it was loud. In desperation I kicked the door. It hurt my toes so bad. The school bell clanged. I hammered the wood, this time abusing it with all my might. At last, Aunt Milly stuck her haughty nose out. “Why are you banging on our door?”
I trembled, but not from the cold, and muttered words between short breaths. “I, um, where’s Ava?”
An evil grin spread across Aunt Milly’s face. She spoke in a sugar-sweet tone laced with disdain. “Ava already left for school. Gee, you better hurry or the school might lock you out.”
“No,” I said in a small voice, then it clicked. The aunt who lived with ice inside her soul had snuck Ava out the front.
A sneer disfigured Aunt Milly’s visage before she let loose. “Good riddance, now get off my property, little bastard girl.”
An involuntary sinking feeling punched me in the gut.
I stood there for a second or two shivering and confused. Tears stained my icy cheeks and doom settled in my bones. I did the only thing I could do. I plodded to school as fast as possible, the hard snow crunching beneath my too-tight boots. Not only was I late for school, but I was also a bastard.
My six-year-old innocent self didn’t know what the word bastard meant, but I knew how it made me feel — heartbroken.
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