Another Another Brigit's Flame
Title: Slow in the Delivery
rating: any
Word count: 1160
Summary: When your body doesn't listen to your mind and becomes a prison, what do you do to show your humanity?
They thought I couldn’t hear them, but I could. In fact, I’m pretty bitter about the patronizing way they talk to me. Just because my body responds a little slower than most, just because I can’t articulate myself, just because I’m trapped in the horrible curse of a shell doesn’t mean my mind doesn’t wander.
I have hopes and dreams. I have opinions and thoughts about people, even if I’m twenty years old and never had a boyfriend or express myself in an infantile way. I sit in this room with my blue nightgown dangling at my knees. I walk almost like I have a limp and I know my head is abnormally large, but I still love myself. I love everything about who I am. And I love Bobby. Sure he thinks it’s a game, but in my head and in my heart I am normal and it’s real to me when I say it even though my whole body takes it and through the delivery transform me into a toddler drooling on myself and saying “I love you” to all of the nurses at the Harbor Institute for the Mentally Challenged.
Mentally challenged. Huh. People would define me as dull and flat, infantile and underdeveloped, but I’m as developed as anyone. Just a little slow in the delivery. But when Bobby looks at me and brings me a book, when he brushes my hair and hums to me, it’s like I’m normal. When I look into his eyes I wonder if he can see the spark of life that my body hides from so many. I wonder if he knows that deep inside here there’s a person who thinks and feels and understands like everyone else.
Sometimes I just want to cry and throw myself onto my bed. My own parents couldn’t see it in me and had me sent away years ago. I’ve been trapped in this prison cell like a criminal because I was a disappointment to them. When I was little they’d come and visit me, but they grew tired of my lack of control and what they called immaturity. They didn’t understand me. They didn’t want me. I was a stain on their perfect world, but I was a person. Can you imagine what it feels like to have your family turn their back on you? To want nothing more than to be loved and scream at the top of your lungs what you think and feel, but no one would listen?
I tried it once, but they gave me a shot and put me in a jacket that strapped my arms to my body. I was a danger to myself. I didn’t talk for a year after that. I was lost to the dark emptiness of being alone and unable to communicate, unable to tell people that there’s a person in here and I am normal, only I can’t tell you.
They see me as one dimensional because of the way I talk and because I smile and laugh. I wave my arms about and try to dance, and everyone laughs like I am a child. I hear what some of the mean nurses say outside. Retard. Just because I’m different. I look different and I act different, but I am a person with a brain that works.
It’s simply lost in the delivery.
* * *
When Bobby showed up that afternoon, my heart raced. I wanted to shout from the rooftops that I loved him, but I didn’t even though I could have gotten away with it. He smiled at me and talked to me like a child as I sat down on the floor and he sat on the bed and brushed my hair.
“It’s getting long, almost time for a cut Annelise.”
I giggled. “Bobby,” I saw drawing out the o and e sound like I was saying Bawbbeee. It was hard for me to say my e’s so I always drew them out. My huge face would contort and sometimes I would drool, which would embarrass me so much. Why couldn’t my body obey my commands? I wasn’t a retard with shaking hands like Julia. I laughed at jokes, even if it was late. But everything inside was screaming to be set free from my fleshy prison. “I think I love you.” I said slowly and carefully, trying to sound normal.
Bobby laughed. “You know I love you, too,” he said in a patronizing way as he ran his hands through my curls.
“But I do, Bawbeee. I do. I do. I do. I do.”
I could feel him smiling at me from the bed. This was so frustrating.
“I have a dimension, you know.” I said slowly.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“I am not just a flat person. I have a dimension. I have a brain.”
Bobby laughed again. “I know, sweetie. You are a beautiful person inside and in.”
“No,” I shouted and stood up. “I am a person. You treat me like I am not a person. I have a thought and a want and a dream and you tell me I’m a sweetie. I am one. I am one in here.” I pointed to my head and he stared at me in shock.
“Annelise, please quiet down or they’ll come in here and give you a shot. We’re just trying to help you and we know you’re a person.”
“No, you don’t see me, Bawbee. You don’t see.” I tried not to cry, but the tears escaped from my eyes anyway. I tried to compose myself, but I knew it would be impossible. I could feel my heart and breathing going too fast. My face was gonna turn red and my hair was standing up. “I want you to kiss me.” I tried to say in a soft way, but I think it came out more like a whine and like a child begging for candy.
Bobby sighed. “Annelise,” he said.
“No, no, Annelise. I want you to k-k-kiss me.” I said trying to hold back my sobs.
But the nurses came running in from the hallway carrying a syringe.
“She doesn’t need that, she just got upset. I’m sorry, it’s my fault. Don’t punish her because of me,” Bobby said as he stood up from the bed.
The nurse glared at him as she stuck me in the arm. I cried out as I felt everything start to get foggy. “This is your last warning, Bobby. She’s about to pull you from her case if this keeps up.”
“She really isn’t like the others, though. She’s just a little slow but she’s normal in the head. Why won’t you take her to New York and do that brain study?” Bobby pleaded.
“Bobby, that’s enough.”
And just like that my world went black again and everyone just saw me like a dumb cow.
rating: any
Word count: 1160
Summary: When your body doesn't listen to your mind and becomes a prison, what do you do to show your humanity?
They thought I couldn’t hear them, but I could. In fact, I’m pretty bitter about the patronizing way they talk to me. Just because my body responds a little slower than most, just because I can’t articulate myself, just because I’m trapped in the horrible curse of a shell doesn’t mean my mind doesn’t wander.
I have hopes and dreams. I have opinions and thoughts about people, even if I’m twenty years old and never had a boyfriend or express myself in an infantile way. I sit in this room with my blue nightgown dangling at my knees. I walk almost like I have a limp and I know my head is abnormally large, but I still love myself. I love everything about who I am. And I love Bobby. Sure he thinks it’s a game, but in my head and in my heart I am normal and it’s real to me when I say it even though my whole body takes it and through the delivery transform me into a toddler drooling on myself and saying “I love you” to all of the nurses at the Harbor Institute for the Mentally Challenged.
Mentally challenged. Huh. People would define me as dull and flat, infantile and underdeveloped, but I’m as developed as anyone. Just a little slow in the delivery. But when Bobby looks at me and brings me a book, when he brushes my hair and hums to me, it’s like I’m normal. When I look into his eyes I wonder if he can see the spark of life that my body hides from so many. I wonder if he knows that deep inside here there’s a person who thinks and feels and understands like everyone else.
Sometimes I just want to cry and throw myself onto my bed. My own parents couldn’t see it in me and had me sent away years ago. I’ve been trapped in this prison cell like a criminal because I was a disappointment to them. When I was little they’d come and visit me, but they grew tired of my lack of control and what they called immaturity. They didn’t understand me. They didn’t want me. I was a stain on their perfect world, but I was a person. Can you imagine what it feels like to have your family turn their back on you? To want nothing more than to be loved and scream at the top of your lungs what you think and feel, but no one would listen?
I tried it once, but they gave me a shot and put me in a jacket that strapped my arms to my body. I was a danger to myself. I didn’t talk for a year after that. I was lost to the dark emptiness of being alone and unable to communicate, unable to tell people that there’s a person in here and I am normal, only I can’t tell you.
They see me as one dimensional because of the way I talk and because I smile and laugh. I wave my arms about and try to dance, and everyone laughs like I am a child. I hear what some of the mean nurses say outside. Retard. Just because I’m different. I look different and I act different, but I am a person with a brain that works.
It’s simply lost in the delivery.
* * *
When Bobby showed up that afternoon, my heart raced. I wanted to shout from the rooftops that I loved him, but I didn’t even though I could have gotten away with it. He smiled at me and talked to me like a child as I sat down on the floor and he sat on the bed and brushed my hair.
“It’s getting long, almost time for a cut Annelise.”
I giggled. “Bobby,” I saw drawing out the o and e sound like I was saying Bawbbeee. It was hard for me to say my e’s so I always drew them out. My huge face would contort and sometimes I would drool, which would embarrass me so much. Why couldn’t my body obey my commands? I wasn’t a retard with shaking hands like Julia. I laughed at jokes, even if it was late. But everything inside was screaming to be set free from my fleshy prison. “I think I love you.” I said slowly and carefully, trying to sound normal.
Bobby laughed. “You know I love you, too,” he said in a patronizing way as he ran his hands through my curls.
“But I do, Bawbeee. I do. I do. I do. I do.”
I could feel him smiling at me from the bed. This was so frustrating.
“I have a dimension, you know.” I said slowly.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“I am not just a flat person. I have a dimension. I have a brain.”
Bobby laughed again. “I know, sweetie. You are a beautiful person inside and in.”
“No,” I shouted and stood up. “I am a person. You treat me like I am not a person. I have a thought and a want and a dream and you tell me I’m a sweetie. I am one. I am one in here.” I pointed to my head and he stared at me in shock.
“Annelise, please quiet down or they’ll come in here and give you a shot. We’re just trying to help you and we know you’re a person.”
“No, you don’t see me, Bawbee. You don’t see.” I tried not to cry, but the tears escaped from my eyes anyway. I tried to compose myself, but I knew it would be impossible. I could feel my heart and breathing going too fast. My face was gonna turn red and my hair was standing up. “I want you to kiss me.” I tried to say in a soft way, but I think it came out more like a whine and like a child begging for candy.
Bobby sighed. “Annelise,” he said.
“No, no, Annelise. I want you to k-k-kiss me.” I said trying to hold back my sobs.
But the nurses came running in from the hallway carrying a syringe.
“She doesn’t need that, she just got upset. I’m sorry, it’s my fault. Don’t punish her because of me,” Bobby said as he stood up from the bed.
The nurse glared at him as she stuck me in the arm. I cried out as I felt everything start to get foggy. “This is your last warning, Bobby. She’s about to pull you from her case if this keeps up.”
“She really isn’t like the others, though. She’s just a little slow but she’s normal in the head. Why won’t you take her to New York and do that brain study?” Bobby pleaded.
“Bobby, that’s enough.”
And just like that my world went black again and everyone just saw me like a dumb cow.