Separation
“Have her take two pills at a time, once every 24 hours,” the doctor said, handing the medicine bottle to the older man and woman.
The man struggled to read the name of the medicine: “Flook-so-teen, hydro…chloride?”
“Fluoxetine hydrochloride,” the doctor corrected. “It’s an anti-depressant. It’ll take care of that imbalance I explained.”
The couple thanked him, then left the office.
—
In the car, a 12-year-old girl sat in the middle of the back seat. Her light blond hair pressed against her shoulders as she slouched forward. She kept her legs crossed, her feet up on the seat. Her arms remained cross, as well.
As the man put the key in the ignition, the woman looked back from the passanger seat. “The doctor prescribed a medicine that’ll cheer you right up,” she said.
“He didn’t even see me,” the girl said back.
“Don’t start up with your attitude, Clara,” the man said, looking her in the eyes through the rear-view mirror as he adjusted it. The mirror hadn’t changed position since they arrived at the office, but he always adjusted it before driving. “The doctor is trained to know this sort of thing. That’s why the insurance company pays him so much.”
“You weren’t even in there for five minutes,” Clara said.
“Don’t make me come back there,” the man shouted, turning in his seat.
“Honey, please,” the woman said, lightly pushing her husband back into the seat. She looked at Clara. “When we get home, you’ll take your medicine, then go straight to bed.”
Clara, turned her head to the side. No dinner? Fine. No bath? Whatever. She looked out the car window. Being November, it was too early for snow to begin to fall yet.
—
A 14-year-old girl with dark-blond hair looked at the lens she bought earlier that day. She looked at the hour hand pointing to the one on the grandfather clock in the kitchen, then at the thick phone book on the table. In the past month, all she had gotten out of her relatives was that Clara had gone to stay with the Cunninghams, whoever they may be.
“Don’t worry about it, Jennifer,” they had told her. “Your sister will be just fine. We’ll take you to see her after the holidays, when we’re not so busy.”
With Christmas a week away, Jennifer couldn’t wait much longer.
—
The heat from the bathwater fogged the mirror. Clara wiped her hand across it, looking at her reflection. The cleared area slowly started to fog again, as the hot water kept running.
She looked to her right suddenly, and stared at the filling bathtub. Her head jolted to the other side, and she looked expectantly at the closed bathroom door. Her arms shook for a moment, her breathing heavy. She lifted an arm up, rubbing at her eyes with the back of her wrist, while holding the towel around her body with her other arm.
Clara walked over to the bathtub. As she looked at the level of the water, she reached over and turned off the faucet. She looked into the water, trying to find her reflection there, but could only see the rubber flower and butterfly decorations on the bottom of the bathtub.
—
Looking through the phone book the night before hadn’t helped any. There were too many Cunninghams. Jennifer looked through her room window, up at the clear night sky. The bright moon appeared in the sky, but the light of town left the stars almost invisible.
Deciding to get her mind off of things, Jennifer turned on the small television in the room. The news showed a giant Christmas tree decorating ceremony from earlier that day.
“I can’t wait any longer.”
—
“You didn’t come to dinner tonight,” Clara’s aunt said, entering the guest room.
Clara sat at the desk in the room, looking into the large, oval mirror, and combing her hair. “I’m not hungry.”
“Clara, Dear, you haven’t had anything proper to eat for a few days now.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Have you been taking your medicine.”
Clara gave no response.
“Maybe that’s why you haven’t had an appetite.” She leaned back. “Honey! Would you bring in Clara’s medicine?”
After one final stroke through her hair, Clara set the brush down on the desk. “I’m not taking it any more.”
“But Dear, doesn’t the medicine make your bad feelings go away? Doesn’t it make you feel happy.”
She turned and looked at her aunt. “What good is feeling happy if I have nothing to feel happy about?”
Her uncle appeared in the doorway. “Is something wrong?”
“No, Honey, little Clara was just getting ready to take her medicine. Weren’t you, Dear?”
“No, little Clara wasn’t,” Clara said back, gritting her teeth. “And why would I?” she sound loudly. “Why would I want false happiness?”
“Clara,” her uncle said, “I’ve warned you about raising your voice to your aunt and me. Now, take your pills, or I’ll–”
“Or you’ll what?” She stood up, pushing the chair back with her legs. “You’ll what? You think shoving pills down my throat will make everything better?”
He raised a hand into the air.
“I see. You’re planning on hitting me again, so I’ll behave. Sure, I can take it when I’m zombified on those happy-pills, but I’m not taking it any more.”
“Clara, Dear,” her aunt said, putting her hands on Clara’s shoulders. “I know you’re feeling depressed, and confused, but it’s all caused by a simple chemical imbalance. The medicine will fix that.”
Shaking her shoulders free, Clara stepped back. “A chemical imbalance? That’s what’s causing my depression? Have you ever considered that maybe–just maybe–my feelings are what’s causing the imbalance?”
“Listen, Clara,” her uncle started. He lowered his hand, his voice gentle. “I think the doctor knows more about this than a 12-year-old. The doctor knows what’s best for you.” He twisted the top off of the medicine bottle. “If you take your medicine quietly, like a good little girl, I’ll forget everything you’ve said and done tonight.” He held the bottle out to her. “Here. Take a couple.”
“You’ll feel better soon,” her aunt said. “Trust me. It’s not just the doctor. We know what’s best for you.”
The open bottle of medicine slowly moved closer to Clara as he uncle tilted it toward her. The back of Clara’s hand smacked the bottle out of his hand, and onto the hard wood floor, pills scattering in all directions.
“I gave you your chance,” her uncle said, his voice raised again. He grabbed Clara by the shoulder with one hand, raising the other.
“You don’t know anything about me!” Clara said, tears in the corners of her eyes.
Her uncle’s lifted hand slapped across her face. “You will not talk back to me in my own home.” He pushed her onto the bed. “Go to bed, and stay there, before I lose my temper.” He turned to his wife. “Come on, Honey.”
As the two left the room, Clara’s uncle turned off the light. After he slammed the door closed, his voice muffled through. “God, this is why I can’t stand kids. I’m glad we never had any.”
Crying, Clara pulled a pillow up to her chest, and she held it close in her arms. “Only one person understands me,” she whispered, “and I’ll probably never see her again…”
—
“What am I doing?” Jennifer asked herself in a whisper as she closed the window behind her. She looked at the neighborhood around her. Street lights lit the dark street in equally spaced apart orange glows. She held her arms close to her side, and her breath appeared before her in the cold. She rubber her hands to try to warm them, then headed out, wearing pajamas and slippers, away from her relatives’ home.
After a couple of hours, Jennifer stopped to rest. She made it into town, and a lit up clock in a store window shown the time to be just after midnight. She wanted to sleep, and the freezing cold didn’t help, but she knew she must continue on.
Seeing Pinky Street on a sign as she walked down the main street, Jennifer knew she had reached her destination. She didn’t know where she would find them, or when, but she knew the Pinky Street Irregulars lived here, in the apartments lining this road. Jennifer walked into an alley between buildings, sat against one of the buildings, and there she closed her eyes.
—
“Clara?” Her aunt knocked on the bedroom door again. “Are you up, Dear?”
“Just leave her be,” Clara’s uncle said as he adjusted his tie. “I’d rather not have to put up with her before I go to work. Just get me my breakfast.”
“What about Clara? She hasn’t been eating lately.”
“She can starve, for all I case. Save us some money in the long run.”
“Now, Honey…”
“Don’t start with me,” he said to her, still adjusting his tie.
She tried to adjust his tie for him, but he smacked her hands away. “Breakfast. Get me my breakfast.”
—
“Who are you?” a young girl’s voice asked.
Jennifer opened her eyes. She looked to see a young girl with light brown standing before her, and an even younger girl with a matching hair color hiding behind the first.
“See?” the younger girl said.
“You did good,” the older said back. “Go get your blanket.”
The younger girl hurried out of the ally.
The older girl reached a hand out to Jennifer. “I’ll help you up.”
“You’re about my sister’s age,” Jennifer said as she took the girl’s hand. As the girl gave a pull, Jennifer stood up. Letter go of the girl’s arm, Jennifer wrapped her arms around herself, giving a cold shake.
“I’d give you mittens,” the girl said, “but I haven’t got any. Katie’ll bring you her blanket, so you can keep that around you.”
The younger girl, Katie, returned. She handed a small blanket with holes to Jennifer. Jennifer took it, and thanked the girl for letting borrow it. Katie smiled, then ran back out of the ally.
“It’s not much,” the older girl said, “but it’s the newest, cleanest, least-holey one we have. I’m Sasha, by the way.”
“I’m Jennifer.”
“What a pretty name. Is it by coincidence that you’ve found yourself upon Pinky Street?”
She slightly shook her head.
“I see. Let’s go to the others and talk about this. They’re lighting a fire in the metal drum in ally five today. We’ll be warm there.”
Jennifer followed Sasha out of the ally, down the street, and into another alley. Many young girls gathered around a metal drum, while a girl about Sasha’s age hit one rock against another.
“Is this safe?” Jennifer asked Sasha.
“Kathy knows what she’s doing,” Sasha told her. “She has plenty of experience. She’s been with the Irregulars the longest, having a few months on me. She doesn’t really like being in the spotlight, so I’m often the acting leader, but she’s second-to-none in watching over all of us.”
“I thought you girls lived in the apartments along Pinky Street,” Sarah said.
“Oh, I wish!” Sasha responded. “We’re street urchins. No one cares about us. Only the detective gives us a decent wage for any work we do.”
“But, I remember seeing something about you girls on TV a while back.”
“Yeah, a couple of years ago. They eventually worked it into a heart-breaking story, about how the down-trodden homeless of Pinky Street were forced to work for little pay.”
At the metal drum, Kathy stepped back, a fire starting to burn inside. The other girls moved in closer around Kathy and the barrel, warming their bare hands and hands through hole-filled mittens.
“Are you all orphans?” Jennifer asked her.
“Oh, no, it’s nothing like that,” Kathy said. “We each live in a different ally without our families. When I said no one cares about us, I meant about our whole families. As families, and as friends, we care about one another. We’re inseparable. There’s nothing like family being close together, right? Come one, let’s stand by the fire.” The two walked to the metal drum, Jennifer standing taller than many of the young girls. “By the way, what brings you here, Jennifer?”
“Family. My sister and I get traded from one family to the next. They’re all our relatives, and some of them seem nice, but they keep passing us on to another set of people we’re related to in some distant way. I just want it all to end.”
“Mm, doesn’t sound like a case for the detective, though.”
“I guess not.” Jennifer rubbed her hands together over the crackling warmth. “My sister and I were recently sent to two different relatives, both living in this town. Clara–my sister–is staying with a family, the Cunninghams, and that’s all I know. She can get into trouble sometimes, but I know she’ll be as lost and alone as I am when we’re not together.” She looked Sasha right in the eyes, “I have to find her!”
“I’ll go,” one of the little girls said. The girl with short, dark brown hair walked over to Jennifer. Jennifer kneeled down, and the little girl looked at her eyes. “Your eyes are funny. They’re different colors.”
Jennifer smiled. Indeed, with her right eye purple, and her left eye turquoise, her eyes would certainly look funny. “I’m wearing some lenses that change my eye color. When I find Clara, I’ll give her a pair to match mine. That way, if we are separated, we’ll still be together, with our matching eyes. Whenever someone sees our eyes, they’ll be seeing half of a pair, a pair meant to be together, no matter what happens.”
“I’ll deliver the information to the detective,” the little girl said. She hurried away.
“Sarah’s a little ball of energy,” Sasha commented. “She keeps warm just by running all around. She’ll find the detective, give him the information, get his analysis, and be back with the Cunningham’s residence before noon.”
—
An older woman opened the door. She looked at the girl wearing pajamas, standing on her porch, under the afternoon sun. “Can I help you?”
“Is this the Cunningham residence where Clara Sheridan is staying?” she asked.
“Who are you?”
“I’m Clara’s sister, Jennifer.”
The woman looked into the house, then back at Jennifer. “My husband’s already angry enough as it is having one kid in the house. Listen, Clara wouldn’t answer the door when I tried to get her out for breakfast or for lunch. She just stays wrapped up under the blankets. I’ll fix some sandwiches, so you try and get her to come out, okay?”
She led Jennifer through the house to the guest room. She slowly opened the door a little, then headed for the kitchen.
The door creaked as Jennifer carefully pushed it open. She walked over to the bed, then gave a sigh. “It doesn’t even look like there’s really someone under there.” She pulled back the top blanket, revealing the rest of the blankets bunched up in the form of a person. Jennifer looked back at the open door. “Was she really fooled by this?” Sighing again, Jennifer walked over to the window. “Unlocked. I guess I can’t be mad at her, since I did the exact same thing. I guess I’d better go explain this…”
—
After assuring her aunt that everything would be all right, and changing into one of the new, warmer outfits bought for Clara, Jennifer headed back to Pinky Street. Sasha wasn’t there, but another girl with the same hair color, short and messy, offered to help.
“My name’s Sally,” the girl said. “I’m Sasha’s little sister.”
“I thought Katie was–”
“She’s our sister, too, younger than me,” Sally explained. “So, what’s the deal? Did you find your own sister?”
Jennifer leaned against the ally wall. “No.” She looked over at the lonely metal drum, no one around it, then to the mittens on her hand. “She did the same thing I did. She ran away last night.”
“Were’d she go?” Sally asked her.
“I don’t know.”
“How can’t you know? She’s your little sister, isn’t she? If anyone should know, it’s you.”
“We’ve only been in this town for about a month. I really don’t know where she would be.”
“Surely there’s something you can think of. If not, that’s still okay.” Sally walked over to the metal drum, cold from then evening shadows of the apartments. “Even if we have to search all over town, we’ll find your sister. No one should be separated from their family, especially when Christmas is so near.”
“That’s it!” Jennifer exclaimed, causing Sally to look back at her. “There was this humongous Christmas tree on the news on TV. When our parents were still alive, Clara loved Christmas so much. We’d all gather around the tree, and open our presents, one at a time. If she can find her way to it–no, I know she will find her way to it–she will be at the Christmas tree I saw on the news.”
“The Christmas tree in Town Square,” Sally said, nodding firmly. “That is where we will find your sister. Give me a moment to let Katie know where I’ll be, then we’ll be off, ‘kay?”
—
The sun had already started to set when Sally and Jennifer reached the tall Christmas tree at town square. There, they found Clara sleeping on a bench in front of the tree.
Jennifer ran over to her sister, and took Clara into her arms. “Clara, I was so worried about you.”
Clara’s eyes slowly opened. “Jen? Is that you?”
“You sound so weak,” Jennifer said as she pulled back. “Your face is so thin.” She put her hands at Jennifer’s sides. “Clara, you’re so thin!” She hurried to take her sweater off, and she slid is over Clara’s arms. When she took off her mittens, and went to place them onto Clara’s hands, she found them to be ice cold, and Clara’s fingers to be thin as well. She placed the mittens over Clara’s hands. To finish, Jennifer took off her scarf, and wrapped it around Clara to keep any warmth in.
“Is that you, Jen?” Clara asked again, almost in a whisper. Her eyes were only half open, and she gazed into the sky.
“Here,” Jennifer said as she unwrapped a cut square of a peanut butter sandwich. “Eat this.”
“I’m not hungry,” Clara said, her voice barely audible.
“You have to eat.” Jennifer tore off a small piece of the sandwich. She pushed it into her sister’s mouth. “Please, eat it. Do this for me. Do this for your big sister.”
As Jennifer watched, Clara’s chin moved a little, then a little more. She slowly chewed on the piece of sandwich. After chewing, she struggled to swallow it. A tear ran down Clara’s cheek as she swallowed. He eyes looked to the side, at her sister. “I thought I wouldn’t see you again. I thought I’d never see you again.”
“Don’t be silly,” Jennifer told her, breaking off another piece of sandwich, and putting it into her sister’s mouth. “You won’t lose me that easily. No matter where you are, I’ll find you.” She looked back at Sally. “Even if I need to get a little help along the way, I’ll find you.”
Snow slowly started to fall.
“Hunh,” Sally said. “It never snows around here.”