Anna

In a small town nestled in the foothills of the San Gabriel Valley a young girl sat on the edge of her bed contemplating her place in the world. As she had only lived eleven years, she didn’t have to think for very long.  She knew she was eleven, she knew she was sitting on her bed.  She knew she was the oldest of two children. Her mother worked long hours as a nurse and her father spent most of his time either in front of the TV or working on cars in their front drive. At school she was neither popular or unpopular.  She had friends and didn’t get picked on so she figured she was in an okay place, socially. 

Her hand smoothed the surface of the worn quilt her grandmother had given her for her ninth birthday.  The soft blue and green pattern met and retreated across the plane, giving the impression the two colors were dancing. She had suffered a stroke last year.  Her beloved Nana could no longer speak or walk, but Anna knew her Nana was still in there, was still aware of what she said.  

Nana was now living in an assisted care facility twenty minutes from her old house.  Anna’s mother encouraged her to visit, but Anna inwardly cringed at the idea.  The foul smells that wafted from various rooms, the yells and screams that could be heard randomly throughout the building, put her on edge.  The whole experience scared her, then she would feel guilty.  Her Nana was stuck in a bed, unable to move on her own.  How could she leave her there without anyone to look out for her?  It was then that she would get on her bike and ride the mile and a half to the home, grit her teeth and spend an hour or so there, brushing Nana’s soft white hair, putting lotion on her hands, or reading to her from one of her favorite books. 

Falling back on the bed, the girl lay, looking up at the fan.  The slight breeze blew across her damp face, cooling her quickly.  Shivering she raised a hand above her head. Squeezing one eye shut she moved the hand to cover one blade then another rotating over and over attempting to cover every fan blade even knowing it was a hopeless endeavor. 

“Anna!  Hey, Anna!” the shout was punctuated by heavy thuds against her door.  Dropping her arm, she closed her eyes pretending she could close out the sound of her little brother just as easily.

“Aaaannnnnnaa.”  His voice had turned pleading and she knew tears would soon follow.

Sighing, she rose from the bed and yanked open the door.  “What?”

Her five-year-old brother tapped her knee, turned and ran, shouting “You’re it!” over his shoulder. 

Anna stepped out, making sure to shut and lock her door before she took off after him.  Sam loved to play tag.  He reminded her of those dogs at the dog park that spent the whole time trying to get the other dogs to chase them.  He just loved running from someone.

It concerned her a little, was he destined to always be prey?  He seemed to take to the role naturally.  Sam was the easiest victim she’d ever seen, he always ran and told, or cried.  Even her parents had noticed this, reminding Sam, almost daily that he should just ignore it or walk away.

Let’s be clear though, it wasn’t like he was being tormented.  If a kid next to him said their drawing was better than his, Sam would take it as a personal insult, crying and hiding for the rest of the day.  Anna blamed her parents for this.  After struggling to have her they were told they couldn’t have any more kids.  Then, six years later, their miracle was born.  They doted on him, no one was allowed to say anything negative.  Even the word “No” had been banned from the house.  So, of course, when their “little angel” began school, he was completely unprepared to meet a world that didn’t always wear kid gloves. 

Anna could hear him giggling in the front room. She knew Sam was hiding in the TV room, probably behind his favorite overstuffed chair.   Instead of taking the direct route through the kitchen, she turned and went through the Jack-and-Jill bathroom she shared with her brother.  Anna came out in Sam’s bedroom, just across the hall from the TV room.  She tip-toed across the scuffed but clean wood floor and found her brother kneeling behind the armchair.  He continued to giggle and peek out at the kitchen doorway.  He was completely oblivious to her standing two feet behind him. 

“Tag, you’re it!”  she shouted as she tapped his shoulder, “No tag backs.”

Sam jumped and spun; his arm outstretched to tag her before her last words registered.  “Hey, no fair!” 

Anna smiled triumphantly and sauntered away, knowing she was safe from tags for at least the next half hour.  She made her way to the kitchen, wondering if there were any yogurts left in the fridge.