It is long afterward, sometimes,
Before we find meaning.
It distills in our
Souls
As
Sand
Sifting through
The hourglass of our lives
Falling softly down, grain by grain.
"Hourglass," by Paulo Vernon,
21st Century poet
"Wait for me!"
"It's a race, lame brain, I'm not waiting!" Peter cried.
Laughing, he ran faster. He didn’t look back to see if Alyssa was gaining on him. Nimbly he jumped the rocks and small burrows that were common to the little meadow. While their families stayed at the campsite and picnicked, they went off exploring. When they were together, exploring always turned into racing, sooner or later.
"Peter, wait!" she repeated, her voice angry now.
He laughed again. "You're just trying to trick me," he yelled over his shoulder without looking back. "I won't fall for that again!" He ran still faster.
Alyssa's voice got farther away as he ran. "Peter, wait! You have to! Come back!"
When he finally reached the top of the hill he stopped, breathing hard. He put his hands on his knees and dropped his head down. At last he turned and looked up. She wasn’t behind him, and he had to straighten up to look for her. There she was, no more than a few meters from where the race began, sitting in an odd position on the ground.
"Why didn't you tell me you were hurt?" he yelled over the distance, tired and angry himself now. She didn’t answer, and he couldn’t see her face.
Quickly he ran back, muttering under his breath. "What happened?" he called as he got closer.
"I fell in some kind of hole," she said. "The grass was long and I didn't see it coming."
Peter reached her, panting with the exertion. "How bad is it?"
"I heard it snap." Her voice broke. "It hurts bad." Her lower lip trembled and she tried to blink back tears, but a few spilled out anyway.
"Oh great," Peter muttered. "Look, I can go get my dad. He could drive his Jeep out here. If you broke it, we'd better not move you." He paused, trying to collect his thoughts. "Or maybe it's just a sprain. It could've been a stick you heard snap. Did you try putting weight on it?"
Alyssa nodded and a small whimper escaped. She hung her head and then her body shook with sobs.
"Hey there, don't cry," he said. "We'll have you fixed up soon. It'll be all right." He stood, shifting his weight from foot to foot, scratching his elbow nervously. She still looked down at the ground, visibly shaking, but not making a sound.
Finally she sniffed and said, "I ripped my T-shirt too."
"So?" He sat down near her, pulling his knees up, wrapping his arms around them. "I think we've got bigger worries than that. Huh?" He tried a small laugh.
She looked up. "You don't understand. This was brand new. I ripped it on this stupid dead branch when I fell." She shoved the branch away angrily, wiping her tears with her hand and sniffling.
"It's just a shirt." He shrugged. "Come on, do you think you can lean on me or something? I can help you up. If it's just sprained you could make it back. I might be skinny but I'm strong." He stood up and held out his hand.
"She'll probably never let me wear a T-shirt again. I finally got her to let me have one. Now I'll be lucky if I ever get to play outside again."
"Maybe she'll be glad it's not worse. It's my fault anyway, I mean, I started the race."
"I'd have won easy if I hadn't fallen and you know it."
"No way. I've been training. I'm tired of getting beat. You're littler than me."
She smiled. But then a shadow came over her face. "Peter, you have to promise not to tell," she whispered.
"Well, gee, it's obvious you're hurt," he said. "We need to get you some help."
"No, dummy. I mean you can't tell anybody that you saw me . . . you know, cry." Her face flushed red as she said it and she looked away from him.
"What's the big deal? You're hurt pretty bad."
"Alyssa Stark never cries," she said, straightening herself up as much as possible. She winced. "Never."
"You just did. Gotcha," he said.
She was not amused.
"Hey, I'm sorry. Why not? I still cry sometimes, if I have to. And Julia cries all the time."
"Alyssa Stark does not cry," she repeated in a stiff voice.
Peter was silent, thinking. He sat back down with a thud, and looked at her hazel-green eyes. She stared straight ahead, glanced at him, then looked away. There was fear in her eyes, and anger, and an overwhelming sadness. He had never noticed it before.
After a long moment he said, "I haven't ever seen you cry. Huh?" Not even when her mother scolded her in front of him. Maybe that was why they got along so well. She was tough. Not like other whiny little ten-year-old girls.
"Promise," she said fiercely, "you won't ever tell."
"I promise," Peter said. "I mean it. You can trust me." He looked into her eyes again. "It'll be our secret." He smiled.
"Okay. Our secret."
"Now," he said. "Enough of this. I didn't get a First Aid merit badge for nothing. Let me see that leg. Maybe I can tell if it's broken or not."
"Oh no you don't! Don't you dare touch me!"
"I know what I'm doing, honest." He reached for her leg.
"That's okay, I'll wait for your dad, thank you." Her eyes were wide as she tried ineffectively to push him away.
"I have to at least find out if you're bleeding before I leave."
"All right. See?" She turned her leg over with her hands. "I'm not bleeding. I just can't walk. Go get your dad, please!"
"Okay, okay! I'm going!"
The ride back to the campground in the Jeep was quiet. Alyssa sat with her legs stretched out in the back seat. Peter sat in front with his dad, Phil Richardson. They didn’t talk.
When they arrived Alyssa's mother was already in hysterics. "Whatever did you think you were doing, child? How could you be so stupid?" she yelled, opening the door of the Jeep before it came to a complete stop. "I can't believe you could be so stupid!"
"Now, Joan, it was an accident," Phil said from the driver's seat.
She gave him a nasty look. "I doubt that," she said. "This is all your fault, isn't it, Peter? You're always encouraging her! I should have known better than to let my daughter run off exploring with you. From now on Alyssa, you are not to go wandering around places you have no business being. And you will not play outside for three months. Not even the backyard. Is that completely clear?"
Alyssa said nothing, only nodded.
"The truth. How did this happen? What idiotic trick were you trying to pull this time?" She stopped and lit a cigarette, taking a drag on it and replacing her lighter in the pocket of her slacks at the same time.
"It was just a race, Mother," she replied softly.
"A race? You were racing? The country around here is not the place for track and field, young lady, and you know better. You know better. Just look at you!"
"Yes, Mother," she said.
Phil’s voice low and threatening, "Now Joan, that's enough. Any more of that in front of me, and I promise you'll regret it. She's hurt enough, can't you see that?"
Joan looked at him coldly with her steel-gray eyes and slammed the car door shut. She walked around to the driver's window, which was down. In a harsh, barely controlled whisper, she said, "Don't you dare tell me how to discipline my children." She blew smoke out her nostrils.
"I wasn't referring to your discipline." He spat the last word out like an oath.
"If you had any discipline yourself you wouldn't have had so many little brats, and they wouldn't be running wild, encouraging my child to endanger herself this way! I'll take care of this the way I see fit."
Phil glared at her. After a long pause he said, "I'll drive her to the hospital. I expect you'll meet us there?"
"You will not," Joan said. "She is my daughter and I'm taking her."
"I'm afraid her leg is too bad to risk moving her again," Phil said, holding her stare.
Beverly, his wife, came up behind Joan and cautiously put her hand on her shoulder. Joan flinched and pushed her hand away. "Joan," Beverly said gently.
"What?" she answered, voice still tense. But her gaze dropped to the ground, away from Phil's, and her shoulders slumped slightly.
"Joan, I'll ride with you to the hospital. I think you're much too upset to drive. Come on. I'll take you to the car." She spoke quietly.
"Too upset . . ."
Joan's voice lost its edge and she turned away from the Jeep, walking back toward the picnic table as if in a trance. Beverly walked next to her, placing an arm around her shoulder as they went.
"I don't know how she does it," Phil muttered under his breath.
Peter had been staring down at his fingers during the whole episode, but he looked up to see Joan walk away.
"You okay, Alyssa?" he asked, turning around to face her.
She nodded and looked out the side window. "Fine," she said.
"Peter, I want you to ride back home in the van with Isaac," Phil said.
"But Dad . . ."
"You go home with Isaac," he said again. "Your mom has to go with Joan to keep her calm. Ike can drive you kids back home just fine."
"He only has his permit," Peter said.
"He's been driving tractors since he was your age. He knows what he's doing, and if he gets stopped you can say it was an emergency. We can afford the ticket if we have to. It'll be all right. I've watched him, he's very safe when he wants to be."
"Look, Dad, I'm not all that worried about his driving, I just . . ."
"I know," Phil said, looking directly at his son. "But I think it's in everyone's best interests if you are not there at the hospital. That's final."
"It wasn't my fault."
Phil pressed his lips together. "I know, son. But that's not the issue right now."
"It wasn't his fault," Alyssa echoed from the back.
"I believe you kids," he said, then sighed. "I do. But some people just don't . . ." He broke off his sentence. After a pause, he said, "Go on, Peter. Go tell your brother he gets to drive home."
Reluctantly Peter got out of the car. "See you around, Alyssa," he said. "Hope your leg's all right."
She smiled her twisted little smile. "I'll be fine. See you."
He shut the car door and walked off to find Isaac.
It was a year before he saw her again, in spite of his mom’s best efforts to appease Joan's injured feelings and imagined slights. Peter was glad when their holiday and summertime visits got back to normal, though, the way they used to be, getting together often, the two of them playing wonderful practical jokes on her big sister Lauren.
But he missed her that year. It was boring without her.
