RDP Thursday: POCKET

Lowell Harrison “A Wintry Walk”

” If you are going to walk in that cold, you really should wear gloves ” Tally’s Mother told her from her easy chair. Her Mother’s eyes were locked on the tv screen and there was a cigarette clenched between her teeth.

Tally was 12 years old the Winter it got so cold Hall’s Lake froze over for the very first time. The day after the deep freeze, all of the neighborhood kids headed down the hill to the man made lake with sleds and skates and plastic bags over their shoes.

” I don’t have any gloves. Do you? ” Tally asked.

” Don’t be stupid. Your hands are bigger then mine. They wouldn’t fit you. You need to lose weight. ”

Tally was used to her Mother’s string of seemingly random word spew that always managed to take shape long enough to kick Tally in the teeth.

” Yeah. Well. ” Tally zipped her jacket up. ” I’ll be fine. ”

Tally opened the front door and her Mother asked her from the living room, ” why don’t you buy some gloves? ”

” Because I don’t have any money, can I borrow some? ”

Tally only answered her Mother because she was curious what form this wad of words would take.

Her Mother got up and went to her purse and took out a few crumpled bills. She threw them at Tally and they fluttered to the floor between them. ” Good for nothing stupid kid. All you do is take, take take. ”

Tally left the money on the floor. She walked out the door, with her head down and closed it quietly behind her.

When she got outside into the cold, she jammed her hands down into her pockets- which is where they always were no matter how cold or warm it was because Tally thought it was better that nobody saw her perpetually clenched fists and the half moon circles in the palms of her hands where her nails had dug into her flesh so often that they had left permanent scars.

One day though, Tally thought she might not jam her fists into her pockets anymore.

One day.