Hey everyone, this latest story is one I really enjoyed writing, and one I kinda like. Comments are always welcome. I’m sure everyone can relate to this story. I’m not sure if it’s a story about God, or just about the Bible. Thoughts?
Vintage Wrapping Papery by Katey Nicosia on Flickr.com
Tracy patiently watched her siblings unwrap presents. Her parents watched her curious face; she could feel it. They expected her to open her presents as well, but she was so enthralled by the ways her younger siblings tore paper with abandon, their eyes darting around the half hidden object, searching for what it was. The moment of brightness on their faces, signaling understanding and recognition, fascinated her. Sometimes the brightness preceded an almost palpable burst of joy, and sometimes a different expression, like a mask, crossed their faces.
“Open your presents, Tracy,” said her mother in a soothing low voice. She reclined on the black leather sofa, sipping from a mug full of a steamy brown liquid. Tracy’s mother wore a maroon robe, and a pink night gown. A thin silver necklace, a present from Tracy’s father which had been unwrapped just that morning, lay against Tracy’s mother’s bare collar bones. Tracy found this site of her mother exciting without understanding why, and she felt compelled to do as she was told.
The sound of tearing paper displeased her when she was the cause, she discovered, and she gave it up for the more delicate but savory job of pulling the taped tabs of paper free and uncurling the wrapping. This process, though exceedingly delightful, must have annoyed her father, because before she knew it he was upon her and tearing the paper off the presents himself.
“Paul,” her mother said, laughing, “let her do it how she wants.”
“We’ll be late for church,” he grunted and continued tearing the paper off her presents. Within a minute, Tracy looked out on her new toys; a plastic hammer, a doll with thick yarn hair, a pair of frilly socks with strawberries, and a red car. She expected to feel something akin to what her siblings must have felt, but she felt little more than curiosity. She wanted to touch and taste and smell each object.
“This one’s from me,” her mother said, pointing at the hammer and winking. Tracy knew a secret was being revealed, but she didn’t catch the secret, and felt suddenly afraid of the hammer. Instead, she picked up the doll and ran her stubby short fingers through the long thick hair. It felt wonderful, so she did it again and again.
“What’s wrong Jack?” accused the gravely voice of Tracy’s father, “don’t you like your tool set?”
Jack, Tracy’s big brother, sat sullenly in the corner examining chrome tools he pulled out of a grey plastic pale. “What am I gonna do with these?” he whined, eying Tracy’s shinny plastic car.
“You’ll build things!” their father shouted defensively, “building is fun.”
“Oh, Paul,” giggled Tracy’s mother, “you’re such a man. You’re more refined than that, aren’t you Jack?” She winked at Jack too, and Tracy saw an expression of confusion flush Jack’s face. She realized that was what she must have looked like when their mother winked at her. It was an ugly expression. She didn’t like it.
Without knowing why, and before understanding what she was doing, she picked up the red plastic car and wobbled over to Jack, offering it to him with an arm fully outstretched. Jack took it without hesitation and smiled. Tracy picked up a heavy tool from the grey plastic pale and delighted in seeing her warped reflection on its chrome surface.
But her father stormed over and snatched the tool from her, returning the car while he was at it.
“You have your gifts, and she has hers,” her father said quietly, his face frighteningly close to Jack’s.
“Paul,” her mother said, stretching the name into two syllables and letting the second one drag into a lower tone. Tracy knew this tone. It meant stop what you were doing. But Tracy’s father didn’t stop. He stared into Jack’s eyes intently, and Tracy thought that maybe her father found people’s expressions just as fascinating as she did. Maybe her father was waiting for a brightness of understanding and recognition on Jack’s face.
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