Chapter 9 First Memory
Here's the first chapter from Maria's point of view
Maria had a hard time answering the question, "What is your first memory?" She felt as if she were being asked to look at puzzle pieces scattered on the floor and pick the one that should go first. She could see images like shards of glass, glimmering in the light and then disappearing. She couldn't assign a time or even a place for some of them and she couldn't figure out the order to construct an accurate narrative. But they were hers, anyway, and she would take them out and study them for as long as they lasted in her mind.
She remembered digging in wet sand, watching water rush into the holes she made and smooth their edges out and fill them. She remembered gulls crying and swooping; their red-rimmed eyes and pointed beaks frightened her. She recalled the waves' constant background noise, a comforting whoosh that made her feel safe.
She sees herself in a bed, too overwhelmed to cry or do anything but clutch the soft object the two strangers have given her. One being is tall with short white hair and a loud laugh that reminds her of the seagulls'; she doesn't like the sound, but he seems kind and protective, unlike the gulls. There is another stranger, a little one with blond hair and green eyes. This one speaks softly and frequently to her, repeating certain sounds over and over. She starts to learn what they mean. Vati is the tall, white-haired man who carries her. Muti is the short talker. Bruno is the biggest four-legged creature she has ever seen, a black beast with gentle brown eyes. Willi is the small gray fluffy thing that barked at her. Finally, she learns that she is Maria and she belongs to them and they to her.
Now she is sitting on some kind of perch, staring at pale yellow squares and white half moons with green edges. Muti is telling her their names, but she can't remember. She takes one of the half moons and sticks it in her mouth: delicious, crispy and sweet.
She recalls a walk with Vati in the woods. She feels nervous, wondering when the water will appear. She misses the ocean's call, the sand under her toes. But Vati is smiling down at her and she figures she will keep walking, because he is Vati and she trusts him. She studies the hand she holds onto; it is larger than Muti's, not as soft, and she sees silvery lines across the thin skin and knuckles.
There are other big people. There are two tall blonde people, even taller than Vati, and she is frightened of them. They look like visitors from the sun and they talk loudly, as if they own the place she shares with Muti and Vati. They look kindly at her and give her a ball, but something about them makes her feel nervous. She feels they want something from her, she can see it in their blue eyes and hungry smiles, but she doesn't know what it is.
She remembers a new place, with different toys and four other little people like herself. She feels excited and relieved to be around others her size. They immediately understand her and she can be at ease with them in the sandbox, playing side by side. The first time one takes a bucket, she is astonished; she is used to people giving her things, not taking them away. She bursts into tears.
She is pressing her nose against a glass window and she is amazed at how cold it is. She's even more amazed when her nose leaves a clear patch on the cloudy white surface. Vati kneels down and shows her that if she breathes on it and rubs it with her coat sleeve, she can clear away the white and see inside the glass. She does and she sees a collection of wooden figures and houses on white fluffy cloth. Some of them move turn in circles. In the background, real people are walking about, looking at things on shelves and walls. Vati calls it a store.
Muti is showing her how to make Willi sit. She watches Muti hold a piece of cheese over his head and move it until his fat little haunches sink onto the floor. Muti says, "Willi, sit!" and gives him the cheese. She wants to do it, but Muti tells her to wait and watch. So Willi sits again. Now it's her turn; she holds the cheese in front of Willi's black nose and he takes it. She feels his hard little teeth on her fingers and she screams, more from surprise than anything else. She hears the call of gulls again, and looks up; Vati has been watching and now he is laughing at her. She doesn't like him doing that and she scowls; he laughs harder, and now she cries in earnest anger at how big and heartless he is and how she can't make him stop. But Muti says things to him in a sharp voice, and she gathers Maria into her slight, warm body, smoothing her hair. She kisses her finger and says it's fine and Vati didn't mean to make her cry.
The world has turned white and cold overnight. Vati calls it "snow" and he wraps her up in so many layers of clothes that she starts to feel itchy and sweaty. He takes her outside and she can feel her nose grow numb. The sky is a strange silver color and the trees are dark brown sticks. She watches Vati's gloved hands make a ball of the white powdery stuff that they walk upon. He throws it up in the air and they laugh when it falls it apart on the sidewalk. He guides her small, clumsy, red-mittened hands around the snow; she feels his warm palms help hers press it into a ball. He's talking to her, explaining how to throw it. She studies how his hair almost matches the gray sky, how when he looks at her and says, "Ready?" she realizes his eyes are not dark brown like Willi's, but actually a dark red, a maroon like the pillows on their couch at home. She is so taken, that she drops the snow ball and taps the pale thin skin under his eyes. He blinks, and then smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling, and she thinks she is lucky to have the only red-eyed father in the world.
The blonde people don't scare her anymore. She knows they have names now: Tante Monika and Onkel Ludi. She loves Onkel Ludi; his golden hair, blue eyes, strong chin and proud carriage remind her of the princes in her story books. His deep voice no longer scares her. She's fascinated by his hair and how it lies so closely to his head. When she touches it, it feels crisp and hard, unlike Muti's or Vati's. She likes to make him laugh, since he seems sad until he sees her.
She's sitting next to Muti on the couch, looking at a book. She's looking at the drawing of an apple, but Muti keeps tapping the marks under the illustration. She says "Ah"and taps a set of marks. She wants Maria to repeat the sound, which is easy. Then she taps another set of marks and asks if Maria can say "Bee"; she does. Muti then goes back to the page with the apple and asks what the marks are. Maria pauses, remembers and says, "Ah." Muti smiles; she is as pretty as the dolls in Tante Monika's glass cabinet at her house.
There's a crowd of grown-ups and they are all talking loudly. It's Onkel Ludi's house but it smells and looks different. There's a tree with lights and shiny balls on it in the parlor where she usually plays. She is tired: tired of sitting still at a table with food that looks and smells funny, tired of the grown ups staring at her and asking her questions she doesn't understand, tired of their giant bodies that take up space so she can't run around the house. She wants to lie down but she also wants to see what the shiny balls are made of. One in particular intrigues her; it looks like a soap bubble, reflecting blue, pink and yellow from the sparkly lights that hover in the tree's stiff branches. She grabs a branch to draw the bubble closer. It feels stiff and slightly sticky. She pulls and before she knows it the tree has come to life, a shaking, rattling monster that lunges at her.
She remembers drawing after dinner, sprawled on the Oriental carpet, Willi stretched out by her side. Muti and Vati are in the kitchen, their voices a comforting murmur under clinking dishes and running water. She hums and finishes three drawings, waiting for them to come into the parlor so they can watch a DVD before bedtime. She hums louder, hoping they hear her impatience and hurry up. Instead, she hears laughter, not Vati's usual seagull cackle, but a soft whicker, and Muti's little trills like the sounds Onkel Ludi makes on his piano. She gets up and pads into the kitchen to remind them that they are supposed to watch the new American cartoon with her. She stops in the doorway.
Muti is sitting in Vati's lap and cupping his face with her small hands. They're smiling at each other, Muti's short blond hair swaying over her cheeks as Vati rubs his fine sharp nose against her small upturned one. Vati's hand runs up and down Muti's waist. For a second, Maria feels a terrible hot feeling in her chest; she wants to run to them and break them apart, demand she is the only one who should sit on Vati's lap and get Muti's caresses and smiles. But the strange feeling fades away and she watches and listens to them murmur to each other. She feels safe, even relieved that they are as kind to each other as they are to her. She wants to be with them, but she suddenly feels shy, as if they are strangers.
Vati sees her first. "We have a little spy," he says, and Muti turns to gaze on her. When she smiles at Maria, she feels warm; even before Muti extends her hand to her, she knows she is invited to join them. She runs to them and wraps one arm around Muti and the other around Vati, squeezing as tightly as she can to hold them close to her. She feels their hands—Muti's soft fine ones, Vati's strong, calloused fingers—press her into their circle and stroke her hair. She feels absolutely safe; she feels love.
I hope you enjoyed the fluff and that my American readers had a great Thanksgiving!