Orphan Girl, Chapter 2

Orphan Girl, Chapter 2

Chapter 2
I’ve been listening to my parents’ conversations again. Mother and father were talking by the staircase and father was in special clothing. Army clothing. I desperately wanted to run up to father to give him a big hug and never ever let him go. But I remained seated in my place on the stairs, silently listening.
Mother was crying once again, but she wasn’t making any noise whatsoever, which is the most frightening way anyone can cry. Father wasn’t crying, just about managing to hold it together.
“Please, don’t go,” mother pleaded.
“I have to,” father replied.
“I just wish you didn’t have to go now.”
“I’m sorry. I had better go and say goodbye to Anita. I’m not going to wake her though, it’ll be to upsetting for her.”
I immediately rushed up the stairs to my bedroom as quietly and as quickly as possible, and then jumped into my bed, just as father opened my bedroom door.
I shut my eyes and tried to keep my breathing slow and even, just as father’s footsteps began to echo across my bedroom floor.
Father gently kneeled down on the floor next to my bed and gently stroked my hair whilst he whispered “Goodbye, Anita.” Then he got up and walked out of my room, closing the door noiselessly closing the door behind him.
I lay in silence for a few minutes, trying to take in the many events that had happened in the past day or two. Then I silently sobbed myself to sleep.

* * *

Once I had awoken the next day, I immediately leapt out of my bed and rushed into my parents’ room. The bed was elegantly made, with dainty frilly sheets, however mother and father were nowhere to be seen, therefore I ran out of the room, down the staircase and into the kitchen. Mother was there, seated at the wooden table, her hair tied tightly into a bun. She smiled as I advanced towards the table.
“Good morning, Anita,” mother said. Her voice sounded fragile, as if she was about to burst out crying any second.
“Good morning, mother,” I replied. “ Where is father?”
“Your father…he had to go away for a little while.”
“ But he did not mention it yesterday.”
“ Stop questioning me Anita! It is very disrespectful to question your elders. Now, sit down and eat your breakfast.”
Mother left the table with her plate and began to wash up. I picked up my piece of toast and began to munch on it thoughtfully.
Why was mother keeping the fact that father had gone away to war a secret from me? I am thirteen now, and quite able to handle adult issues-even if people don’t seem to think that I can. I know the truth about my father and I am handling it well. I am certainly handling it better than mother. She has just rushed to the lavatory to be sick. I am not sure whether it is because of the baby or the fact that she is constantly worrying about father.
When she returned from the lavatory, looking flustered, she caught me looking concerned about her condition and gave me a hug.
“You need not worry, Anita,” she says. “ There’s nothing seriously wrong with me, it’s just the baby telling me that it didn’t like what I had for breakfast this morning.”
I still cannot help but worry about mother. And father. And the baby. I just do not want any harm to come to them. I love them all dearly and wish they were all sitting next to me on the side of my bed, mother on my left, father on my right, my new baby sister in the middle. Mother and father with an arm each round my shoulders, telling me the most comforting things, thus making my worries shatter into dust.
My sister is in my arms, holding onto my finger with her tiny, delicate hand.
Mother asks if I would like to choose a name for my new sibling. I search my brain for the perfect name for my beautiful sister, and I eventually decide on naming her Bettina.
We all sit there for what seems like an eternity, father, Bettina, and me. We are a family.

* * *
I don’t know why wrote all that down when it has not happened yet. Hopefully, my dream will become a reality. Any minute now I will hear a voice coming from outside, and look out of my window to see father running up the path toward our house and mother rushing towards father with her arms outstretched, then they meet, their arms enclose round each other, neither of them ever wanting to let go. It’ll turn out that the war is over, so father will never ever have to leave us again. Then, Bettina will be born and we will finally be a proper family, just the four of us. And we’ll stay that way. Forever.