Chapter Three
Mathilda stared unseeing through the window of the bus as it passed through the Holland Tunnel, the Jersey shore coming up just ahead. She had almost heard his name tonight. Out loud. Leon. Not quite. But almost. It was enough. It could've thrown off her equilibrium for the rest of the evening, but she was above all else...a professional.
A glance at her watch told her it was nearly 9:30. So she should be home by 10:00. Ms. McCallister would be happy about that. Curfew was supposed to be 9:00 sharp. But not for Mathilda. Mathilda knew she was afforded privileges that the other girls at the Spencer School were not. But, then, Ms. McCallister had made a number of exceptions where Mathilda was concerned. Mathilda had been somewhat protected and sheltered these past six years, but that would soon change. She graduated in two months. And her 18th birthday was approaching. She would be an adult, on her own.
She was an exceptional student. Once she had applied herself and had given her studies a bit of attention, she found that she had a head for numbers, words, dates, and concepts. She was ranked #1 in her class. Of course, considering there were only 10 seniors, that wasn't saying much. Her S.A.T.'s had been a breeze, 1525, nearly perfect. Ms. McCallister had been ecstatic, insisting she apply at every Ivy League College in existence. Mathilda had done so and been accepted to a good percentage of them. She had only to choose. But she hesitated. She had visions of a yuppy job, a preppy husband, a house in Connecticut, even a pedigreed dog. 'Gag', she thought with a frown. That isn't what she wanted, it was so...ordinary. She'd had a taste of a different life.
The bus came to a stop and she hopped off, sprinting in the direction of the school. She quietly let herself in the back door with her key and went upstairs to her room. She dropped her backpack on a chair and walked to the partially opened window, kneeling in front the plant that sat on a stool. Dieffenbachia. Originally from Brazil, it was brought to Europe around 1830 with a gardener called Dieffenbach. One of the first things she'd learned is that it was not an outside plant. So she'd immediately dug it up from the backyard and brought it inside. She also discovered that it was poisonous. If ingested, it could cause swelling of the pharynx and tongue, obstructing the airway and leading to death. You had to respect a plant like that. She ran her hand gingerly along some of the leaves, a sad smile on her face. She then stood and prepared for bed.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Amelia and Delia were discussing what to have for lunch, if a meal consumed at midnight could be called such a thing, when the light for 322 began blinking. Delia noticed it first and pointed it out to Amelia.
"Your boy's awake," she said, pointing to the console. Amelia stood and started down the hallway to John's room.
"Oh, get me a couple of egg rolls, an order of fried rice, some crab puffs, and a spring roll," Amelia said over her shoulder. Delia rolled her eyes and gave a wave to Amelia's retreating form. She picked up the phone to call Mr. Cho's Chinese House, which was open 24/7.
"Damn, that woman can pack it away," Delia said under her breath as she waited for Cho's to answer.
Amelia knocked and then opened the door to find John pacing slowly about the room. She had noticed that he didn't seem to sleep for more than a few hours at a time, perhaps not wanting to waste anymore time in slumber. He was also increasingly restless and Amelia was at a loss for what to do about it. John stopped his pacing and turned to her.
"Amelia," he intoned softly. She came forward to touch his forearm.
"What is it, John?" she asked.
"Mathilda," he said. Amelia gazed at him for a moment before nodding and taking his elbow, leading him out into the hall and down to the communal lounge area close to the nurse's station. She turned on the television and inserted a DVD from the cabinet underneath. John seated himself on the couch and leaned forward as the movie began.
Amelia walked back to Delia, knowing John's attention would be held by the movie until the credits rolled. Delia was looking at John with a solemn expression on her face, then turned to Amelia.
"'Mathilda' again?" she asked. Amelia nodded. Delia cocked her head and looked thoughtful.
"I still don't understand why he likes that kid's movie so much." Amelia wondered about that herself.
An elderly patient down the hall had been using the television a few months back, watching the movie with his visiting grandchildren. John had been passing by and the movie caught his attention, no one knew why. Even John himself couldn't give a reason. It simply enthralled him. Amelia thought it could possibly be triggering memories - the setting, the story line, maybe an actor looked like someone he knew. But John seemed most intent on the main character, Mathilda, a precocious little girl with dark hair and a winning smile. Amelia had a thought she feared to voice, that John might have family somewhere - a relative that was either similar in appearance to the little girl in the movie or maybe shared the same name. If so, six years was a long time in a little girl's life. She wouldn't be little anymore.
John narrowed his gaze as the Mathilda on the screen scampered with her friends and caused mischief. Something about her, something just beyond his mind's reach, like a word on the tip of your tongue that just refuses to be voiced. So frustrating. Flashes would come to him sometimes, strange images he couldn't quite grasp before they disappeared. Mostly violent. But then there was also a girl, the one that the movie character reminded him of. Sometimes laughing, sometimes sad, but always filling him with a sense of well being and . . . love.
John was a patient man. Amelia had explained to him that his memories would more than likely return in time. A bit here, a piece there. Maybe not all, but certainly more than he had now. He could wait.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Author's Note: Wildwood, New Jersey is actually in southern New Jersey, so far south that it's just north of the Delaware state line. In the closing scene of the movie, when the camera pans up from the yard of the Spencer School, we can clearly see New York City right across the water. So either Luc Besson, the writer and director, wasn't really familiar with New Jersey geography or he just really liked the name of the town. *Shrug*, I just happened to notice it in my research.
Also, the movie movie mentioned is actually spelled 'Matilda'. No 'h'. But I didn't see the point in confusing the issue. By the way, it IS a pretty cool movie;)
Mathilda stared unseeing through the window of the bus as it passed through the Holland Tunnel, the Jersey shore coming up just ahead. She had almost heard his name tonight. Out loud. Leon. Not quite. But almost. It was enough. It could've thrown off her equilibrium for the rest of the evening, but she was above all else...a professional.
A glance at her watch told her it was nearly 9:30. So she should be home by 10:00. Ms. McCallister would be happy about that. Curfew was supposed to be 9:00 sharp. But not for Mathilda. Mathilda knew she was afforded privileges that the other girls at the Spencer School were not. But, then, Ms. McCallister had made a number of exceptions where Mathilda was concerned. Mathilda had been somewhat protected and sheltered these past six years, but that would soon change. She graduated in two months. And her 18th birthday was approaching. She would be an adult, on her own.
She was an exceptional student. Once she had applied herself and had given her studies a bit of attention, she found that she had a head for numbers, words, dates, and concepts. She was ranked #1 in her class. Of course, considering there were only 10 seniors, that wasn't saying much. Her S.A.T.'s had been a breeze, 1525, nearly perfect. Ms. McCallister had been ecstatic, insisting she apply at every Ivy League College in existence. Mathilda had done so and been accepted to a good percentage of them. She had only to choose. But she hesitated. She had visions of a yuppy job, a preppy husband, a house in Connecticut, even a pedigreed dog. 'Gag', she thought with a frown. That isn't what she wanted, it was so...ordinary. She'd had a taste of a different life.
The bus came to a stop and she hopped off, sprinting in the direction of the school. She quietly let herself in the back door with her key and went upstairs to her room. She dropped her backpack on a chair and walked to the partially opened window, kneeling in front the plant that sat on a stool. Dieffenbachia. Originally from Brazil, it was brought to Europe around 1830 with a gardener called Dieffenbach. One of the first things she'd learned is that it was not an outside plant. So she'd immediately dug it up from the backyard and brought it inside. She also discovered that it was poisonous. If ingested, it could cause swelling of the pharynx and tongue, obstructing the airway and leading to death. You had to respect a plant like that. She ran her hand gingerly along some of the leaves, a sad smile on her face. She then stood and prepared for bed.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Amelia and Delia were discussing what to have for lunch, if a meal consumed at midnight could be called such a thing, when the light for 322 began blinking. Delia noticed it first and pointed it out to Amelia.
"Your boy's awake," she said, pointing to the console. Amelia stood and started down the hallway to John's room.
"Oh, get me a couple of egg rolls, an order of fried rice, some crab puffs, and a spring roll," Amelia said over her shoulder. Delia rolled her eyes and gave a wave to Amelia's retreating form. She picked up the phone to call Mr. Cho's Chinese House, which was open 24/7.
"Damn, that woman can pack it away," Delia said under her breath as she waited for Cho's to answer.
Amelia knocked and then opened the door to find John pacing slowly about the room. She had noticed that he didn't seem to sleep for more than a few hours at a time, perhaps not wanting to waste anymore time in slumber. He was also increasingly restless and Amelia was at a loss for what to do about it. John stopped his pacing and turned to her.
"Amelia," he intoned softly. She came forward to touch his forearm.
"What is it, John?" she asked.
"Mathilda," he said. Amelia gazed at him for a moment before nodding and taking his elbow, leading him out into the hall and down to the communal lounge area close to the nurse's station. She turned on the television and inserted a DVD from the cabinet underneath. John seated himself on the couch and leaned forward as the movie began.
Amelia walked back to Delia, knowing John's attention would be held by the movie until the credits rolled. Delia was looking at John with a solemn expression on her face, then turned to Amelia.
"'Mathilda' again?" she asked. Amelia nodded. Delia cocked her head and looked thoughtful.
"I still don't understand why he likes that kid's movie so much." Amelia wondered about that herself.
An elderly patient down the hall had been using the television a few months back, watching the movie with his visiting grandchildren. John had been passing by and the movie caught his attention, no one knew why. Even John himself couldn't give a reason. It simply enthralled him. Amelia thought it could possibly be triggering memories - the setting, the story line, maybe an actor looked like someone he knew. But John seemed most intent on the main character, Mathilda, a precocious little girl with dark hair and a winning smile. Amelia had a thought she feared to voice, that John might have family somewhere - a relative that was either similar in appearance to the little girl in the movie or maybe shared the same name. If so, six years was a long time in a little girl's life. She wouldn't be little anymore.
John narrowed his gaze as the Mathilda on the screen scampered with her friends and caused mischief. Something about her, something just beyond his mind's reach, like a word on the tip of your tongue that just refuses to be voiced. So frustrating. Flashes would come to him sometimes, strange images he couldn't quite grasp before they disappeared. Mostly violent. But then there was also a girl, the one that the movie character reminded him of. Sometimes laughing, sometimes sad, but always filling him with a sense of well being and . . . love.
John was a patient man. Amelia had explained to him that his memories would more than likely return in time. A bit here, a piece there. Maybe not all, but certainly more than he had now. He could wait.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Author's Note: Wildwood, New Jersey is actually in southern New Jersey, so far south that it's just north of the Delaware state line. In the closing scene of the movie, when the camera pans up from the yard of the Spencer School, we can clearly see New York City right across the water. So either Luc Besson, the writer and director, wasn't really familiar with New Jersey geography or he just really liked the name of the town. *Shrug*, I just happened to notice it in my research.
Also, the movie movie mentioned is actually spelled 'Matilda'. No 'h'. But I didn't see the point in confusing the issue. By the way, it IS a pretty cool movie;)