Memory Documentation

chapter seven | documenting our promises

"Do you think we can keep it up for the whole year?"

"I'm pretty down about it. And you?"

"I feel the same."

"Keep each other in check then?" To this, he reached his pinky out for mine, causing me to smile at the remembrance of the cliché but classic Darcy and Chris tradition of pinky promises. He seemed to remember it, too, judging by the knowing smile on his face when I wrapped my pinky around his. Satisfied with our plan, Chris sat back with a sigh. Then he said, "So why did you really call me up here?"

I froze, careful to keep my smile from faltering in surprise. "What do you mean? I wanted to talk to you about the journaling?"

This time, the suspecting squint stayed, and instead of replying, my eyes dropped down to his sneakers. Contrast to his pale skin, blonde hair, blue eyes, and overall bright personality, Chris liked to wear dark clothing. He wore the same oversized hoodie I've seen him wear over and over, black jeans, and some black and white sneakers. Noticing my staring, he wiggled his foot.

"You're stalling."

"Chris, I don't know what you're talking about," I lied, forcing some steeliness into my voice. "I just wanted to eat up here."

His eyebrows creased. "You said you wanted to talk."

"Just talk," I insisted, shaking my head. "Nothing's up."

When his shoulders slumped in resignation, I knew he believed me again. "Okay," he said, finally. "But just know if something's up, I'm here. You can tell me. Even though we haven't talked in years. That's what last night was all about, wasn't?"

At that, I couldn't deny him. He was right, after all. Last night, all I wanted was for him to feel like he could tell me anything and everything, no matter what it was. I wanted him to trust me... Shouldn't I do the same with him?

So, I caved, against everything in me that was screaming "You don't have to tell him!"

But I told him everything. I told him about all the teachers I ate with during lunch, the jobs that I threw all my spare time in, and the lies I told Papa when he asked me about my school life. At one point, Papa was under the impression I joined a community service club and was attending weekly meetings every Tuesday and Thursday. However, in reality, I was really just staying in the library for an hour or so, doing homework to make the lie more believable. For five years, that was my system.

The tension in my body never alleviated, even after I finished spilling everything to Chris. It didn't help that his face was so set as he stared down at his hands, which were now folded tightly in his lap.

"And... all that because of the bullying." He said it more like a fact than a question, but I nodded, a slight smile tugging at the corner of my lip. I wasn't sure if he'd remember, but it seems that part, he didn't need me to catch him up on.

After I was adopted, Papa suggested that I ease back into public school rather than continue being homeschooled like I was in the orphanage. So when third grade came around, I enrolled. I felt like how I felt when I first arrived in the orphanage - too uncomfortable, too shy, and too defensive. Despite that, I met a girl named Jillian, a frizzy haired girl with three of her front teeth missing. She was my partner for the science fair, and we worked together on a project about why the moon glows. When she came over to my apartment to work on it, she met Papa. She found out that this sixty-two year old man was my Papa.

And she told everyone.

From there, I was bullied because I "had a grandpa" as a dad. When I retaliated with information that he adopted me, the bullying stretched to the topic of my parents not wanting me. They fabricated all these different reasons as to why, calling me all sorts of names and spreading all kinds of absurd stories. A lot of them figured if my parents "didn't want me," there was something wrong with me, and that bad something fueled the bullying. When I told Papa, he complained to my teacher and the principal, then took me out of school. I continued on with homeschooling until we moved to California, two years later. Since time had gone by, Papa encouraged me to enroll back in public school again. With the whole move - and the reason behind moving in the first place - I agreed as to not trouble Papa any further.