Adnexa

Adnexa

She sat still and watched the windows at the top of the walls, much as any statue would; emotionless and blank, as if waiting for something; anything.  She could see the multiple feet, all scurrying along in a hurry to get somewhere, sheathed in multiple colors, textures, and sizes; some small, some large, some ridiculous.  Most were male, but once in a while she would see some small, brightly colored, strap-on with a low heel, and she knew these belonged to a woman, some free woman hurriedly going from here to there.  She wanted to be wearing those shoes, up there, where there seemed to be somewhere to go and something to do.  She’d get up from the floor and rush along side of the wall, hugging it, watching the shoes as they disappeared and then reappeared at each window of the long parade, only to see them last appear to stumble, stop, start to turn the other way, but soon enough be unable to turn as the male shoes gathered around blocking their path.  Then she’d watch the blood drip onto the shoes, first in single drops, next a flood, and then the little strap-on shoes would disappear altogether as the syrupy redness consumed the window.

Adnexa awoke from her dream; her nightmare.  It was always the same and until this, the last decade she planned on living, it had scared her, made her feel weak, and then whipped her into an anger that could only be broken with shattering glass, the more expensive, the better.  Now the dream only bored her.  She sat up in bed.  It seemed she had something to do. 

The anxious eyes watching her from the side of the bed belonged to her great-grand-son.  She smiled.  She wasn’t supposed to have grandchildren, at least, none she would see from this side of the veil of life.  She adjusted the silk pillows behind her back as she always had, then she began.

Her mother had told them she was blind and that the sunlight hurt her eyes and she was and it did, but only because she had to keep them covered so tightly with the red bandanna whenever she went outside.  If she was in the house, she was forced to avoid the windows or stay in the basement, where it was dark, wet, and steamy or cold.  She feared she would never be warm.  She forever thought she was being punished for merely existing. 

Each summer, when every other child was free to roam the streets in glee and in play, Adnexa would be confined to the house, more often than not to the basement.  She had been promised by her mother that it needn’t continue much longer; soon she would be safe as the dark clouds that masked her fate would soon dissipate.  Safe from what, she wondered.  Children could not fathom danger or the depth of a fall from a cliff.  Adnexa was no different.  She felt the sun shining on her shoulder existed only to tan her and warm her, and couldn’t possibly have any other purpose.  Her mother would smile absently, but would never tell her any differently.  It was as if she agreed.  Of course, the sun shined only for Adnexa.  Why else would it exist?  Why else would anything exist?

She remembered the grounds shaking as the trailers and wagons arrived.  She could see the tires from the basement window and knew the festivities would soon begin.  Again, she would miss them.  Again, she ached to be amongst the others.  She imagined how the fun the carnival was as she watched the small little shoes scurry past the window and heard the glee of the voices occupying them.  She hadn’t noticed there weren’t any little girl shoes running past, but she knew not to look; girls did not travel by foot alone in the evening.  Girls would be carried.  How could the moon lighten their hair if they were so far away, scurrying along the ground like animals?

As the ground began to shake, Adnexa heard her mother approaching the top of the stairs.  “Stay away from the windows, Adnexa,” she whispered.  She needn’t have bothered.  Adnexa knew to stand in the shadows of the shadows.  She’d seen eyes peeking through the glass before at this time of the year; eyes that did not appear real, but somehow seemed very familiar.  Alas, they were not comforting eyes.  They seemed to be filled with insatiable need, even though Adnexa couldn’t even pronounce the word or capture its meaning; she knew it to be the perfect word.

During the summer while the wagons were around, Adnexa was forbidden to come up the stairs at all.  Her mother had told her she mustn’t be seen or she’d be forced to go to the circus.  She often thought this a contradiction; another word she didn’t really know, but seemed to fit.  How could anyone be forced to go to the circus?  Didn’t everyone willingly go?