Date: Fri, 5 Oct 2001 15:23:31 -0400
From: C. E. Jordan <c.e._Jordan@MailAndNews.com>
Subject: ELI AND EVA 1
ELI AND EVA
c.e. _jordan@mailandnews.com
Copyright by c.e. Jordan
ELI AND EVA 1
Eva and Eli stood close together staring out of the big dining room
window. Lightning whipped down, an explosive brightness rupturing the
gloom, but it no longer startled the children. The window which separated
them from the glinting wetness outside shook as Eva placed both hands
flat against it. Bending forward, she closed her eyes and slowly rubbed
her face hard against the cool, slick glass: left side, right side; then up
and down: forehead, nose, lips, chin, and back again. A bit of dampness
transferred itself to her cheeks which flushed a humid pink. Next to his
sister, the boy squinted into the downpour. His forehead barely touched
the glass.
Eva broke a long silence: "You think he'll still be able to come through
this storm?"
As Eli turned slightly to face her, long, pale strands of his hair
remained
stuck to the windowpane. "Sure, Hans lives only a few blocks away, he's
not gonna drown."
In his heart Eli wasn't so certain. The weather had been horrible all day
and the children were quite bored with it.
It was only six months since they had arrived in Germany with their
parents, but to the twins it felt much longer. Dad, a career diplomat,
moved his small family from place to place until it seemed as if they were
always on the way to somewhere else. It was a lonely existence for kids
who found it difficult to establish any real friendships. But now, they were
far more worried about their father and mother than about themselves, for
strained as their parent's relationship had been, it deteriorated even more
rapidly with the latest move.
Their parents situation was not something they could really
comprehend, much less do anything about. But their own anxieties
escalated to match the desperation they could sense in the hushed angry
voices that escaped from behind closed doors. They strained to hear, yet
wished to be deaf. The couple, caught up in their private duel, couldn't see
that their conflict was damaging their children. Some valuable, vulnerable,
something in them had already been harmed. Tense, congealed silences
filled the wide spaces between verbal explosions, and had almost
squeezed the emotional life out of the twins' young hearts.
Always fragile in disposition, their mother grew fatigued and
apprehensive; she simply wanted to settle down somewhere --
anywhere. But her husband preoccupied himself with work or friends and
managed to stay away from the house as much as possible. When he
was home, the dark, old-fashioned, wood-paneled study became his
private domain. Sometimes the children would peek into their father's lair,
and always, he sat on the big reclining chair, reading, writing, or just
staring vacantly into space. With his legs crossed at the ankles, and a
pipe clamped between his thin lips, fragrant smoke swirled and eddied
around his elegant head like a hazy barrier emphasizing the emotional
distance his family dared not cross.
Mom was no extravert, but she had always appeared poised, lovely; a
perfect match for her sophisticated husband. But with each passing day
she grew increasingly disoriented and withdrawn. Personal grooming
was ignored and she spoke only when necessary. Like her two children,
a mass of blond hair leapt carelessly from her head. Thick, wild and
uncombed it endowed her thin face with an aura of feral intensity.
Eventually, the children were left more and more to themselves. Eli
would often linger in front of his mother's locked bedroom door, listening
to the monotonous squeak...pause...squeak...pause, of the ancient chair
that came with the house. Moving away, he'd shake his head sadly. It was
so hard to understand; his beautiful mother just sitting in there, rocking
away like an old lady. Just what is the matter with our parents, he
wondered, what did we do to make them act like this? Eva claimed they
were splitting up, that they were going to get divorced or something. What
would happen to everybody then?
Without discussing it, both children were extra careful to be good. They
picked up after themselves without being told, they volunteered to wash
dishes, and they were very polite. Nobody noticed. Then, early one Friday
morning, an ambulance arrived and their mother, wrapped in profound
silence, her eyes shut tight, was taken away to the hospital--a
`sanatorium' their father called it.
"Mom needs to rest for a while," he said. All Eli knew was, with no
friends except each other, he and Eva were now pretty much on their own.
****
That was about the time they ran into Hans; or perhaps one can say he
ran into them. Eva and Eli were exploring a little hill in the park near
where they lived. Out of nowhere a bike appeared on the trail hurtling fast
and out of control towards them. They stood rooted to the spot like
surprised deer; two pairs of wide blue eyes and two gaping mouths. At the
last moment the boy on the bike, hair flying, swerved to avoid hitting them
and ended up in a pile at their feet. As he disentangled himself from the
twisted BMX the boy glanced up at Eva and Eli. Despite his embarrassing
position, he burst out laughing at their stunned, interchangeable
expressions. To him, they looked like a pair of identical blonde dolls,
except one was dressed as a boy and the other as a girl.
"Are you o.k.?" asked Eva as she and Eli helped the boy up.
"Yeah......ooooh.....but my butt hurts," he replied, laughing and rubbing
the spot in question, "but I'm okay...my poor bike's a goner though."
"Oh! You speak English, alriiight!" Eli was so happy to find a kid he
could talk to he was almost jumping up and down.
"I'm Eli, this is my sister Eva."
"I'm Hans, pleased to meet you."
The twins now got a good look at their new acquaintance. He was
nearly half a head taller than they were--and he was black--sort of. They
couldn't remember seeing any other black people since they moved to
Germany.
"My Mom is American, she's black, "Hans told them. "and my Dad is
German."
The family lived in New York for some years, which is where the boy
acquired his American-accented English. Hans sat on the grass between
the brother and sister. They talked about all the places they had been, and
about America. Then Hans tried to teach them some German.
"If you are going to live in this country," he insisted, "you will have
to
learn at least a little bit of the language, suppose there was an
emergency, or you got lost, or something."
He scrambled around on his knees to face the twins, placing one
friendly hand on Eli's shoulder, he said, "'Jungen' means `boy'..." which
he emphasized by tapping Eli on the chest with his right hand. Then he
patted Eva's chest saying, "...and 'madchen' means `girl'..."
Eva didn't flinch from his touch, but Hans, disconcerted by the
unexpected softness he encountered there, murmured an apologetic,
"Sorry." He had not really noticed her very small feminine attributes
before.
The twins tried not to stare at the boy, but Hans was the most
interesting person they'd met in a long time. He was nearly fourteen, they
had just turned thirteen. He made them laugh. And they both thought he
was the most beautiful boy they'd ever seen. Thick brown dreadlocks with
hints of red streamed over his shoulders, his eyes were hazel green, and
his skin was a permanent deep tan. As he spoke in hesitant, but precise
English, a few locks of hair fell over his face obscuring his eyes;
impulsively, Eva reached up and pushed them back brushing her fingers
against his face. Instantly mortified at her boldness with a boy she barely
knew, she blushed. But Hans just smiled, then mused solemnly, "My hair
does that a lot, maybe it's time to cut it."
Alarmed, Eli blurted out, "No, no...don't, it's...it's beautiful, don't
cut it."
"O.k. If YOU say so, then I won't." And Hans laughed again because
this time both twins blushed.
(to be continued)