by Tiffin
© 1999 Tiffin, all rights reserved
This is a tale that either you will believe or you will be off scratching your head in puzzlement. It's a tale, just a tall tale.
I've been told everyone has periods of time missing. Missing lost, forgotten, hidden. Right? No you say? Now I'm scratching my head.
In my late twenties I asked my sister about time. She confirmed that question. So I put the time that somehow got misplaced aside. Now twenty years later I'm still looking for where it went. What happened in that time, why can't I remember that time?
Two whole years running free without my knowledge.
I can remember where the lost time begins and where it ends. The time in between just isn't there.
It began in a circle. A circle of friends just talking. Innocent talk, girl talk, silly talk about boys. Seventh grade girls talking. Giggling. I remember asking the question. Everyone's eyes becoming wide and answers of "my gosh, that's gross! No way!" Shock from their reactions. Restating the question in a different manner. Realizing it wasn't a question that was to be voiced out loud. Trying to cover my blunder. A quick statement "just joking." Walking away. A friend grabbing my arm "you were just joking right?" Shaking her hand off "Yes, just joking no one does that!" Dying inside knowing some of us do. Her white face and the fear in her eyes showed that.
Waking up two years later in Ninth grade Algebra. Teacher talking in low tones to me. Looking around as he tells me I'm failing. Asking me "How did you get in this class you have to have a B or better to arrive in this class? I think you got in here by mistake! Didn't your counselor assign you to regular math class?"
Get in this class, hell I don't even know where I am. I am totally clueless. Looking at my shoes amazed I'm wearing shoes they are penny loafers. Neat, when did I get these? Touching my skirt. Shocked that it's so short. It's cute and looks great with the red mohair sweater I am wearing. But who in the heck is this man? Why is he yelling in these soft tones? I take the piece of paper he is handing me, just to shut him up. Following the last of the straggling students out of the room. Searching the hallway not knowing which way to go.
Just follow some kids down the hall. A girl grabs my arm. Screaming at me. Spitting at me. Her friend encourages her on. Shaking my arm, trying to maintain an air of superiority I simply state "stop it." She is pissed about something but I got my own problem at the moment. I just want to know what class I'm suppose to be in. She pushes me in her anger. I stumble, she pushes again. "Stop IT." Keep on walking, while grasping at the thin thread of the history, English, math books and notebooks clutched in my arms. She knocks the books out of my arm I bend to pick them up.
Hearing a recognizable voice. "Hey! Leave her alone bitch." It's my sister. She is just a year behind me in school. My sister steps up to the girl and punches her in the stomach. The girl sucks in her breath, begins to cry. My sister storms over to me as I start down the stairs in front of me, rearranging the load of books. "Why don't you stick up for yourself? I swear this is the last time I'm sticking up for you! Tell that bitch Marilyn to leave you alone and she will!" Geez is all I can think and thank goodness my sister is such a spitfire. "Ya, okay I will." "Hey you know what class I'm suppose to be in right now?" Getting an answer, "look at your schedule dip-shit!" My sister starts to run down the hall, her hair bouncing about her shoulders. Strange kids saying hi to her and waving. Others are saying hi to me, giggling as they rush off to their classes also.
Going back the way I just came. Back up the short flight of steps. Looking at the long hallway as the tardy bell rings, doors to classes closing, hearing the echo of my footsteps in the empty space. Stopping front of a picture. It's a black and white framed photo of President Lincoln. Smiling I know him. He freed the slaves. Shot by John Wilkes Booth. Civil war stuff.
Slightly confused I knock on the classroom's door I left moments before. He walks over and asks me what I want. I still have no clue who he is but he did give that paper and I just want to know what I'm suppose to do with it. He sort of shakes his head and tells me "Take it to the office." Slams the door and goes back to his chalkboard and I hear him explaining the equation on the board.
I roam the hallways looking for the office. No one questions me as I roam. Not one teacher not one person questions a young girl roaming the empty hallways. I find a bulletin board I read the items. Has a calendar of events for the month.
October 1965, Halloween is coming next week. Swallowing a handful of air. Next month I'll be 15. Just where the hell I am. I must be crazy. I tell myself its just a bad day, that girl wanting to fight with me got my mind all messed up. I'm scared.
The bells ring again. Kids mingle out of doors, laughing, shouting at one another and the noise is so loud. Someone steps up to me. "Hey walk with me to the bus, I've got something neat to tell you."
Following her down the halls, out the doors, fresh air. The yellow school busses are lined up between two buildings. She walks, telling me her Mom had given her permission to have a slumber party this weekend and I was the first person she wanted to tell. Asks me how come I missed last class she wanted to pass a note then and tell me. "Well here's your bus, I'll call you later! We can plan who else to tell."
Getting on the bus, being asked for my pass, pulling it automatically out of my purse, flashing it for the driver. Spying my sister, sitting next to her.
As the different students pile off the bus at various stops I wait for some sort of signal from my sister this is our stop to get off. Finally without her signal I know when to get off the bus, I know the way down the hill to my house, I know who I am, and I know where I am. I know it was Lynn telling me she would be calling me later about the slumber party. Just don't know about two years.
Now thirty-four years later I know I somehow managed to live two years not connected to this body. Not one person questioned me about those lost years. Not one person has realized I lost two years except for me.
I hid them so well even I can't find them. I have searched for them. Tried to recall them. Looked at pictures to prompt those years to return. Nothing is there.
I laugh nervously whenever my sister talks about junior high school at family get-togethers. Thank god it's not a subject that comes up too often. My nieces and nephews laugh when she tells the tale about having to fight my battles, cause I was such a wimp. I always reply it's just a tall tale she is telling.
It's just a tale, just a tall tale.