Date: Fri, 5 Oct 2001 15:23:31 -0400 From: C. E. Jordan 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)