Distance Between Echoes

Distance Between Echoes Chapter One

Chapter One: Ordinary Girl

March 4th

Blue eyes stared upwards to a white plastered ceiling; freshly sanded and painted from last year's heavy rain. Vala's mind's eye saw past the water damage, the ceiling, the roof of the house, into the sky and focused on the large Saskatchewan clouds that she knew were there.

Heavy eyelids fought to stay open, falling shut again every time they stretched to their widest. A numb mind fought sleep as Vala tried to remember her dream.

Silence broke. A commanding mother, well past irritation, called from the kitchen. "Vala! Its seven-forty-five!"

Eyes shot wide as numbness was replaced with urgency. "Shit." Vala sprung out of bed with the grace of a one legged unicyclist.

Pink bedspread swirled into a knot around her ankle during Vala's ascent. The sheets caught on the other side of the bed, tightened. Vala fell forward, reached out, and turned the collapse into a harmless stumble, thanks to her trusty desk.

"Thanks, trusty." Vala spoke openly to the old oak desk, littered with magazines and nail polish. Vala turned to face her bed as if it were her arch nemesis, how dare it assault her so; but a smirk crossed her face as it was in fact her favourite friend. With three swift kicks, Vala freed herself of the blanket.

In the washroom, Vala stood on the scale. Brushed her teeth. Weighed again. Popped a calcium tablet. Raced back to the bedroom to choose between a white tank top and black jacket or that new blue spaghetti strap with the white transparent sleeve top. Undeclared, Vala weighed herself again.

Decisions about pants were easier, so jeans were slipped into. Mid equipped, Vala stumbled on her left leg, fell onto the desk again, this time to her back. "Thanks, Trusty."

Back on the scale, Vala played with her belly. It was beginning to get a bit flabby again. Back to the room, she used the mirror to judge her outfit, realized the spaghetti strap was quite tight around her stomach, showing off the extra two pounds gained from crisp February days.

Vala headed down stairs, her loose tank top and open black jacket covering most of her skin, snagging the black cap she'd had left on the banister. She slid the cap on and tucked as much of her unwashed, hip-long, blonde hair into it as she could.

Ahead was the kitchen, the most dangerous route out of the house. To the right stood two objects that terrified Vala. One was a mental terror; the fridge that held foods of sugar, starch, grain and whatever gluten was. The other, an emotional enigma that moved and spoke not in English but in lectures and stern glares.

Four paces through the kitchen and three from the door, her eyes locked so tightly on the objective that she didn't pause as sound found its way to her ears. Pretending like all teenagers do, that sound took time to process and translate into words.

"Your lunch, Vala." Her mother held up a brown paper bag from the kitchen counter.

Not missing a beat of the heart, Vala curled her lips into a convincing smile. She turned on her last pace, white knuckled the doorknob hidden behind her lower spine. "Chelsea's buyin', Mom. Love you." Vala was out the door and two paces down the steps, without confirmation of acceptance.

Four powerful strides crossed the room. Vala's mother's trembling hand reached for the door knob. The sound of approaching footsteps brought pause, and she lowered her hand. Vala's mother looked down in defeat, as she put the paper bag in the trash can. As the lid finished rocking back and forth, her husband walked in.

With smiles they shared a lie, because it was easier to.

Vala smiled as she rushed into the warm rays. March was bringing its warmth to the crisp days of Regina. Her nostrils welcomed the smell of thawing dog poop as the snow slushed to expose the grass below. As every Saskatchewan resident knew, this was the first sign of spring.