Natalie

Chapter I-IV

            On Friday afternoons Mrs. Watson would allow us what she called, "free time" during the last remaining hour of the school day.  This usually meant each of the children had a choice of how they would spend their "free time".  But on one particular Friday Mrs. Watson proposed that we spend the last hour of school drawing a portrait of someone special; friend, parent, sibling, relative, etc.  And as the last bell of the day rang we were to turn in our portrait at her desk for a chance to earn extra points for our report card.

"BEEEEEEEEP"

"Alright everyone turn in your portraits at my desk before you leave and have a great weekend!" 

            I didn't even get both feet outside of the classroom door before I heard, "VICTOR!"  I rotated my head around and saw that her face was brightly inflamed as she directed me to her desk with her index finger.  Her tiny eye balls were bulging out of her peep hole of sockets as she said in a deep, angry whisper, "SIT DOWN".  She just kind of stared at me for a few seconds while waiting for all the noise of the exiting children to die down. 

"Is this your idea of some kind of joke?"

            Her hairy hand pulled out the drawing that I did and held it closely to my face.  Being the age that I am now I can see how such a drawing would upset a teacher like Mrs. Watson or any teacher for that matter.  But at the time I didn't really understand her anger.  I didn't understand her directness and I couldn't quite compute the growl that she made while interrogating me about my crayon drawing. 

            It was then on my drawing that I saw what looked to be like a pair of large breasts with exaggerated nipples, a pair of long thin legs, and a face that had only deep eyes and a couple of ice sickle shaped teeth.  The red crayon lines looked to be emotional and aggressive; and I had no memory of drawing it.  I remember trying to redeem myself of this obviously serious and somewhat embarrassing conviction. 

"But...But...Mrs. Watson...I...I don't remember drawing this!  I didn't mean to!" 

            For a good five minutes she scolded me in her empty classroom and that's when she decided to hail me to the principal’s office.  She ordered me to sit down in the corner of the nurse’s quarters.  With the door closed I could see her through a window talking on the phone in a very raged manner.  Her flappy arms were animated in air as she went on her rant on the office telephone. 

            About an hour later I saw my mother walk through the main office door.  Mrs. Watson greeted her with a brief handshake and then secretly pushed my dirty drawing to her across from the counter.  I saw my mother mouth the words, "Oh my god" and then they talked back and forth for a while until they both entered the room where I was being held.  Neither of them said a word, just looked at me with a glare of somewhat confusion and disgust.  "It's time to go home Vic."  She led me out the office door by my hand and held my distasteful drawing in her other hand.  She did not say one word the whole way home, just random deep sighs.  I did not know it then but, that was just to be only the beginning. 

III

            When we arrived home my father was had a strange look on his face.  That is when I knew that he was aware of my dirty little craft that I pulled at school. 

"Sit down Vic."

            His voice was somewhat flat and scratchy as my mother grabbed him by the hand to sit on a couch from across me. 

"Your mother told me what happened at school today.  Do you want to tell me about it?" 

            I began to twiddle my thumbs as I tried to think of what to say. 

"I drew something Mrs. Watson didn't like."

"What did you draw?"

"I drew a lady.  But I don't remember drawing it...someone else did it."

"What do you mean son?"

"It's a lady that talks to me sometimes.  She helps me with my homework, and follows me to school.  She wanted to help me with my drawing. She wanted me to get extra credit!" 

            Both my parents just looked at me.  They looked at me with a look that now I can only describe as 'lost'.  I could see my mother’s hand gripping my father’s tighter as she said with a somewhat choke in her voice, "Go up to your room hunny.  Mommy will call you down when dinner is ready."  And so with my back pack still on my shoulders I trudged up the carpet steps.  I remember thinking that my room felt somewhat stiff.  I had some homework to do but wasn't really in the mood for it.  So I decided to draw to pass the time until dinner was ready. 

            For no specific reason I started drawing; using every shade of red that I had in a plastic bag full of other crayons. 

"Hi Victor."

"Hey you got me in trouble today at school!"

"I'm sorry Victor, I was trying to help!  I'm an excellent artist!"

"Yeah well, my teacher didn't think so."

"I will just give you some tips next time instead of drawing for you, how does that sound?"

"Okay, fine.  Hey what is your name anyway?"

"My name?  Um, you can call me Natalie.  My name is Natalie."

            I could talk to her through my drawings.  The drawings themselves did not talk, not quite as fantastic as that.  It's hard to describe but I could feel her breath and crispness in her voice through the paper and crayon. 

"Why can't anyone else see you?"

"Because Victor, just because."

"Well okay then."

            At some points I remember feeling air currents flowing through the room at slow speeds.  Something like the feeling when you are walking down the street and someone else walks by you in a very fast pace; causing a slight brush of wind.  I believe this was Natalie moving about in the room, maybe even walking, floating; I'm not too sure.  My little toy clock read 6:30 and that's when I heard it. 

"Victor come on!  Your dinner is ready!"

            IV

            That night at the dinner was very awkward.  I could tell my parents were trying to think of a way to spark a conversation as to break the silent ice so to speak.  But the only sound coming from within the dining room was the clicking and clacking of silver ware scraping bits of food off the glass plates.  That was the most bizarre dinner I have ever participated in.  No one said a word. 

            After dinner each of us had our own little activity.  My father would sit in his favorite chair with a beer and watch sitcoms and my mother would wash the dishes and then join him later on.  As for me I would go up to my room and do my homework, listen to the radio, watch cartoons or draw.  In an old shoe box that I hid under my bed is where I kept all my drawings of Natalie.  Sometimes I could talk to her without even getting the drawings outside of the box to spread them about the floor of my room. 

"Victor shouldn't you be doing your homework?"

"I will. I'm just looking at my drawings of you."

"I love your drawings Victor.  You make me look so beautiful."

"Thanks.  Alright I need some help with my math."

            And that's how I would spend my nights.  Alone in my room talking to Natalie as if she were of flesh and blood.  She would help me with my homework and sometimes she just wanted to talk; and I guess I needed someone to talk with too.  She would sing me to sleep sometimes. She actually wouldn't sing but just kind of hummed. 

"hmmmm  hmmmHHmmmm hmmmm hmmmmHHmmmm" 

                          To Be Continued