My Girl, Constance

Chapter 2

Tom found he couldn't sleep. It surprised him because he could usually sleep through anything – surrounded by loud noises, in cramped airplane seats, even major problems at work seemed not to trouble his mind the moment his head hit the pillow.

He was, in fact, pretty surprised that sleep eluded him, almost as a scientist would feel if an experiment went contrary to assumption; it was odd. He moved around in bed in hope that a more comfortable position would allow him to release his mind in sleep. It didn't. He stared up at the ceiling.

He hadn't thought about those summers at his grandmother's house for years, for more than a decade, actually. And yet now, images came back to him, flooding his thoughts, filling up the spaces of his mind so that sleep could not enter.

Tom remembered the first time he had seen Constance. He had finished playing tennis with his cousin George, jogging back to his grandmother's house. There on the front steps was a young, plump girl, in jeans and a big baggy t-shirt, sitting on the steps with her elbows on her knees, her chin in her hands.

When Tom came close to the house, the girl stood up. There was a look of wonder in her eyes as she stared at him approaching.

"Who are you?" demanded Tom.

"I-I, uh, I'm Con-Con-Constance," she stammered out, her eyes not leaving his face.

Tom groaned inwardly wondering if the girl had a mental development issue. Would he have to be kind to her? He was in no mood to be kind after being beaten by George who had taken the opportunity to rub the win in. Tom hated losing.

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm looking for El-Elizabeth," she said, this time with only a slight stammer.

"Why are you waiting here? Isn't she in the house?"

"I don't know. I knocked."

"Well, if you knocked and no one answered then I don't think anyone is at home." He hadn't meant to sound so condescending. But he had a hard day.

She shrugged then, a strange movement for a little girl who looked to be around ten or so. "Sometime people don't do what you think they will do," she said.

There was something in the way she said the words that made Tom really look at her this time. For some reason, Tom felt a feeling of sympathy rising up inside of him towards this young, overweight girl. There seemed to be an element of sadness about her.

"Ok," he said. "I'll go inside and see if she's in. Perhaps she's listening to some music and didn't hear you. I'll let you know." He didn't know why he said that. Usually, he couldn't be bothered to say two words to Lizzie's friends but this girl was a little different.

Her face suddenly broke into a big smile. "Thank you!" she said, "thank you, thank you. I really appreciate it!"

"Ok," Tom was immediately embarrassed to see such large-scale gratitude for a little gesture.

The front door was open and Tom closed it behind him. He climbed the stairs and headed up to the room Lizzie was using. The door was closed. Tom gripped the handle and hesitated for only a second and then opened it and walked in. Lizzie was lying on her stomach on the bed, her elbows holding her up while she held a book. She jumped up from the bed when he entered.

"Hey!" she said. "Get out of my room!"

Tom entered. "Lizzie, you have a guest downstairs."

His sister stopped. Her mouth opened. "Are you joking?" She moved to the window and stood to one side of the wall to shield her body from view and then she slowly drew apart the curtain with one hand. She tried to peer down to the front lawn.