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| panda-like calm through fiction | |||||||||
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Ann, Raggedy
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I had a friend named Marcella once. I was older than her, but that day is the first day I can remember, now. I didn’t know how to react to her, then; I was dour and expressionless. My clothes were dirty, and perhaps I was ashamed. But she brought me to her father. He said I had a candy heart, and put a smile on my face, and then she washed my clothes; from that day I felt like a member of their family.
One day, when Marcella was 13, she went to school, where she received a mandatory smallpox vaccination. She got sick. The school said she had a congenital defect- her father thought they’d given her a tainted vaccine- but Marcella died. It broke my heart. Her father asked if he could use my face, as a symbol for his stance against vaccines; at the time, I was angry at the loss of my friend, and didn’t hesitate. I’ve had many other friends through the years, nice young girls who eventually became lovely women, but there’s something in a first friend you can never forget, never replace. Those years have not been kind to me. My mind drifts unconsciously to friends, and I can’t help but wonder if my decision so many years ago was the correct one, if my personal tragedy clouded my judgment, and whether that cost me even more friends who did not live long enough for me to meet. My red hair is becoming sparse, my eyes are dull and faded. The doctors sew up my skin when it tears, but I never heal; the scars are always with me. |
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