Verity

I

“Thanks, Mama,” Verity said, kicking her feet under the table with enthusiasm, her freshly poured tea producing clouds of steam before her 6-year-old eyes. The cold wind outside flowed through the trees' leaves like the fingers of a mother through her child's hair. The little girl's ice blue eyes sparkled in delight as she watched the fascinating ripples flow from the center of her cup to the very edge where they disappeared as if they were never there, only to be replaced by a freshly born ripple which followed the same path as its predecessor. “Of course honey, now drink fast, or we’ll be late to church!” Her mother flashed her iconic smile, that one that Verity loved, when she showed her gapped teeth, and her dimples caved in like that spot near the drain in the bath when it's time to get out. Her mother rushed to get into her Sunday gear. Verity loved church and the little girls who would greet her every Sunday morning without fail and invite her to play with sidewalk chalk. The very same girls who would come over on Tuesday nights, and play with their dolls and braid each other's hair, and who would beg Verity's mother, Miss Josephine, for her famous homemade cookies just once before supper, their pleading eyes helping them to win over the woman. Verity drank her tea as fast as she could, burning every centimeter of her mouth without care. The warmth rushed down her chest and into her stomach. She put her Sunday shoes on and waited patiently by the front door for her beloved mother.
    The two walked down the French streets hand in hand, a sight of pure love and innocence. Verity wore her deep brown, wavy hair down, contrasting Josephine’s tightly pulled, brown-but-greying updo. Walking into the church, Verity met up with her usual Sunday friends while her mother joined the adults. The mass was long and dull, but the young Verity listened with intent and admiration. The small girl believed in her Lord above and would do anything to impress him, mostly to make sure Santa Claus was still delivering his yearly gifts. Nevertheless, she prayed to him every night and before each meal. This pleased her mother Josephine, who knew that Verity’s faith would get her through the toughest times in life.
    After church, the two went to lunch at the diner on the corner, as per their strict Sunday routine. Verity ordered a side of potatoes and her mother a salad. “Are you excited to start school tomorrow, dear?” Josephine asked with that smile. Verity bounced in her seat. “Of course, Mama! I can’t wait to spend all day with my church friends, we’re going to have a blast!” She flashed the biggest smile she could manage, not caring if it made her look ridiculous. Josephine giggled. “Make sure you pay attention to your teachers, sweetheart. I don’t want to hear about you causing any trouble, understand?”
    “Yes, Mama.”
    After they had the pasta leftover from the night before for supper at the usual time of 6:00, Verity lay in her bed, unable to sleep due to her excitement and enthusiasm about the coming school year. She already had her jumper ironed and her shoes polished. She couldn’t wait to hang out with her friends and learn more about the Lord. She was excited to meet her teacher and make a good impression just like Mama had told her to. Stand up tall. Say 'yes ma'am' or 'no ma'am'. Speak when spoken to. Raise your hand. Sit with your legs crossed neatly and refrain from resting your elbows on the table. Verity rehearsed these rules in her head, scared of the possibility of making a mistake and making her teacher think less of her. Starting school came with excitement and anxiety, pros and cons, but Verity tried to keep an optimistic outlook on her situation. She tossed and turned before her young body couldn’t stay awake anymore, and by 9:00, she was sound asleep.

~~~

    Bright and early Monday morning, Verity stretched out her whole body so tightly that she even shook a bit. She sat up wearily, her messy hair sitting in a charmingly lopsided bun, and yawned. The petite girl slipped on her school uniform, which consisted of a freshly ironed white collared shirt, a green and brown plaid jumper, two white frilly knee-high socks, and the prettiest little Mary Jane shoes. Her hair nearly escaped from the hair tie's grasp as Verity bounced down the stairs and into the bathroom, where she brushed and flossed her teeth, beaming with pride and joy that she was able to dress herself without Mama's help. Josephine stepped into the bathroom wielding a hairbrush that would be used to tame the mess of curly, chocolate hair that lay upon the freckled girl's small head. After a mildly painful experience, Verity's hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail, with none of those nasty strands that refuse to stay in place.
    Breakfast was the usual bread and jam, with an accompanying mug of hot tea. The room was quiet, as the two tired ladies enjoyed their food whilst listening to the pleasant pitter-patter of raindrops as they hit the window and raced down the glass. The scenery outside was gloomy and desaturated, creating a calm and mellow atmosphere. Verity's eyes wandered around the melancholic room. Herbs decorated the windowsill as small beads of water dripped off of the tips of their leaves. Clean, gray countertops lined the wall that housed the single window, except for two spots, one of which was taken by the refrigerator that was covered with pictures and drawings, and the other by the stove. A baby blue kettle sat on the back left burner of the stove, cooling down. The stainless steel sink sat directly below the window, the faucet of which never stopped dripping.
    Her mother was as beautiful as ever, as she sat at the small table in her working clothes, the steam from her tea condensing on the lenses of her glasses that sometimes seemed to be too big for her face. Past the fog, Verity could just barely make out Josephine's weary, green eyes. She had never seen another mother that looked quite as worn out as hers did, but she could understand why that was.
    Verity was painfully aware of her lack of a father in her home, and figured that Josephine simply had twice the amount of work to do than a mother who was married. She didn't remember her father, and her mother only ever described him to be just like Verity, sharing her hair and eye color, and having the same optimistic attitude as the girl. She couldn't help but wonder why her father was missing, and what had happened to him, but she refrained from prying into Josephine, in fear of upsetting her. Verity hated to see her mother cry, and so she kept these thoughts and questions hidden inside her mind. She took one last sip of her tea, stood from her chair, and slipped on her yellow, rubber duck patterned raincoat before holding Josephine's hand and walking to her new school, where the two exchanged their goodbye kisses and hugs. Verity stepped into her classroom and joined her church friends in the back left corner, where they chatted quietly before class started.
    “Good morning, everyone! You can sit wherever you please.” Mrs. Alarie spoke with a soft and soothing voice, and stood tall and proper, her perfect hands intertwined in front of her. The woman appeared to be simultaneously fresh out of college and an experienced teacher, with her smooth and rosy skin and vibrant, red hair contrasting the tired look in her eyes and the way that her resting face made it appear like she was frowning. She was a tall and thin young woman, standing at about five feet nine inches tall. The golden band on her left ring finger was the shiniest of its kind that Verity had ever seen, and her fingernails were long and red.
    Verity and her friends spotted a group of five desks that had been put together like a sort of table, and decided to sit there together. Mrs. Alarie wrote her name in large, printed letters on the chalkboard and repeated it aloud to which the students would respond with their best pronunciation until they said it correctly. The class then went on to discuss nothing in particular, and most of the students seemed more interested in learning more about their classmates than what Mrs. Alarie had to say. The school day seemed to rush by, and before she knew it, it was already time for Verity to return home. She shuffled up to Mrs. Alarie apprehensively and spoke. “Thank you, Mrs. Alarie, have a nice day.”
    “Thank you, Verity. That’s very sweet of you. Tell your mother I said hello.”
    “Yes, ma’am. Goodbye.”
    “Goodbye, Verity.”
    The little girl nipped happily out of the classroom and down the hall, meeting Josephine at the school’s main entrance. “Hello Mama,” she bubbled, “Mrs. Alarie asked me to say hello to you for her. Do you know her?”
    “Oh, yes! I used to watch Diane when she was your age and I was just a teenager.”
    Verity was amazed that such a connection existed between Mrs. Alarie and her mama, and was immediately filled with excitement to tell her friends about this discovery.
    Verity and Josephine walked home in blissful silence, the girl focusing on avoiding the lines and cracks in the sidewalk to escape the possibility of breaking her mother’s spine or back respectively. The concrete below them was a bit darker than usual because of the rain that had fallen hours prior. Soft, gray clouds sagged sadly in the sky, obscuring something bright trying its best to peek through. Verity’s tiny shoes created little taps on the ground that seemed to mimic the sound of Josephine’s high-heeled shoes.
    At home, Josephine started to make dinner while Verity sat at the kitchen table coloring the picture of a fairy that her teacher had given her during class. The kitchen filled with the faint sizzling of meat on a pan and the scent of boiling vegetables. Verity shriveled her nose in disgust as her mother placed a plate of assorted vegetables in front of her, but the wrinkles seemed to disappear when the still steaming pasta was placed beside the former plate. “Thanks, Mama,” the diminutive girl uttered softly. The duo ate their dinners and retired an hour after the sun had set.