A Short Story by Derek  

"Simone"

There is a childhood memory that keeps replaying in my mind
making me feel heavy inside. It starts in the same place every time.
I see her cold shadow in the darkness at our doorstep, waiting
to come into our house. Mom and dad were must have known she was
coming, but I didn't know about it, of course, I had been busy
playing cops and robbers in the forest most of the day anyway.

When I first saw her weak body, I wondered how she could look so
pale and still be alive. But then I began to notice something else.
Her hands were shaking. Really shaking bad.
I waited until she had gone to Bethel, the guest room in our
little Swiss chalet, before turning to mom.

"Why does she shake so bad, Mom?"

"There, there, dear. Let's not talk about it, ok?"

"Her and her mother are shock victims," my older brother said,
after Mother had left the room.

"Oh..." I answered, not knowing what he meant, but trying to
sound as if I did.

"The rest of her family was killed while the two of them
watched."

"Why is she here?"

"She came to Mom and Dad for help because she won't talk."

"Oh."

Mother came back into the room. "We must treat her gently
with lots of love."

I would try.

I sat beside her at supper that night. She shook and
trembled. Occasionally, she would look behind her, like I did when
I was the robber this afternoon, always making sure the police
weren't goin' to catch me. Her lips would start to twitch, and her
hand would slowly raise and cover her mouth. Then she would gasp,
scared-like, and begin to cry big tears from her empty eyes.
I remember watching a tear drop. It started in the corner of her
eye, and when she blinked it began its long escape down to a place
that nobody knew about. As it picked up speed, it rolled over her
high cheeks, down the lines of her young, scared, face.
Eventually, it passed her lip and down to her chin, where it hung
quietly in time, as if holding on for life itself. Then it fell to
the hard kitchen floor, like a model plane when you throw it off a
roof, or GI Joe after he gets shot from a high roof. I watched as
it broke, splashing into pieces, and then it dried up into nothing.
Nobody would know it had ever existed and died there. But I knew,
and so did she. Supper ended.

"Do you want me to read you a bedtime story?"

"No. It's okay."

"What's the matter?"

"Mommy, who is she?" I asked, quietly, so the girl might not
hear, in case she was close.

"Her family went through a very bad war in a country called
Cambodia. Some awfully bad people tried to kill her after they
killed her daddy and her brothers."

"But they didn't catch her?"

"No. Her mother fled the country with her and the bad people
didn't find them. But she hasn't talked to anyone since that time.
She has stayed silent, not saying a single word."

"Not even to you?"

"Not even to me."

"Not even to her mother?"

"Not even to her mother."

"Not to anybody?"

"Not to anybody. That is why she is here. People are hoping
that she will talk to Daddy, after some counselling."

"How long will she be here."

"Probably several weeks."

"Oh."

"Goodnight now, dear."

"Good night."

Mother turned to leave and shut the door of the bedroom.

"Mom?" I asked, causing her to turn and look at me. The light
of the hallway shone her face. "I hope she will talk again some
day."

"So do I."

I didn't fall asleep right away that night. I kept seeing the
falling tear hitting the tile floor, over and over. Soon I, too,
cried and then fell asleep, hoping that I would never become a
"shock victim."

Early the next morning, I crawled out of bed, almost exited,
remembering our strange house guest.

"She is not up yet," Mother informed me after seeing me look
around the kitchen. "Daddy and I have a meeting with her mother
this morning. We are going to take your brother with us, and I
need you to do something. Can you serve her tea when she comes
down? I have the rest of breakfast ready on the table. The two of
you can eat together."

"Of course I can," I said, proud that my mother would trust me
to be of help.

It was quiet after they left. The house made noises the way
it always did when I was alone, but now, for some reason, it
sounded like a sneaky thief coming to steal me. I pictured him
glaring at me. A bad look passed over his face as he grew into a
big hairy monster. His eyes started to turn red and his ears
started growing. He roared in laughter as he pulled out a shiny
knife out from under his coat. Suddenly he disappeared until I
heard another creak, but this time it was a giant hungry dragon
hiding around the corner waiting for me. I new that I couldn't
beat it because I didn't have my sword. I could hear it breathing.
I smelled smoke from a previous burnt victim, and I broke out into
a sweat and my hands began to get cold. Just when I was expecting
him to jump out and devour me, a figure appeared at the kitchen
doorway. I drew in a quick breath and almost screamed; then I saw
that it was ok. It was her. She looked at me, yet I felt as if
she were looking right through me, through the wall behind me,
through the fence in our backyard, clear through to Cambodia and
something really bad that happened there.

"Look, breakfast is ready. Do you want to eat? I didn't eat
yet either. I've been waiting for you."

She just stared with her empty eyes, it was creepy.

"Here," I said pointing to a chair, "sit down and I'll get you
some tea."

She sat, her head slightly down, her hanging shoulders leading
to the rough-looking hands folded on her lap. The refrigerator
made its clicking noise and started buzzing. She jumped off her
chair and got under the table, real fast. I could just barely make
out her wide eyes, partly covered with her shaking hand.

"It's ok," I said pointing to the fridge, "it was just this."

She peered out. I offered her my hand and she grabbed it
really tight. It was shaking so bad that it caused my whole arm to
shake with it.

"You're safe here, nobody will hurt you."

She turned her head slowly and looked at me. It was then that
I noticed how much thinner she was then I even thought. Her face
and her arms. Her eyes had little bags under them and her lips
looked like a sad clown's. Carefully, without spilling it,
I handed her the cup of tea. She was still shaking
terribly from the fridge scare, and the cup began to rattle
noisily against the saucer as she trembled.
Then a change came over her tired-looking face. The empty
look in her eyes turned into a look of fear, as if the giant dragon
was going to get her now, only worse.

The shaking got faster as she became stiff, and her breathing
quick, as if she had been running through the woods. She
looked like she was seeing or remembering something terrible.

A weird tingle ran through my body
as I helplessly stood and watched the result of being a torture
victim. Her hand shook and then loosened, and then she screamed.
I watched the cup tilt and start to slide off the saucer, the tea
slopping over the side. Then the saucer, too, began to slip from
her shaking hand, and I followed them as they crashed into pieces
on the floor. The tea spilled out and began to creep across the
dry tiles. She sat up straight in her chair staring dead ahead,
really scared now. Then very slowly her eyes stopped getting wide
and they got a little cloudy. Then her big brown eyes looked at
me, very sadly, and I wanted to cry too, but I didn't.

I got up and went over to her with a towel in my hand and
quietly placed the pieces of the cup and saucer in the towel.
The tea had already started to dry up.

"It's okay," I said slowly, looking up at her.

A tear began to form in her eye, like the tears last night.
It grew until it had enough strength to begin its trip down her
hurt face. This time, however, it did not keep going. It was
stopped as my hand gently wiped it off her cheek.

"It's okay, we won't hurt you. You are with people that love
you now. We will help you. We want to love you."

For the first time her eyes looked into mine and her body
slowly began to stop shaking.

"Love?" she whispered. Another tear came, replacing the old
one.