Page 29 - GINGER

There was a hard clung on the cement floor and a fountain of water splattered across,
jumping inside the door and scattering around her. Enough to wake up Ginger from her
stance. She jolted and blinked, cleared her haze. A scene that looked like happening in a
cloud looked glassier now.

“What do you think you are? Huh? A business woman?” He stood trembling with fury
holding Irena by her arm as if trying to shake something out of her.

“Don’t you dare try to show me those filthy eyes, you prick!” He grappled her and hurled
her away in an attempt of abandonment .

Turning back, he saw her.

The little one standing inside, a silhouette in the dark room, with hands closed to her
chest, like praying.

“Oh, miss little prick is scared I see.”

He said moving towards her like his prey.

“Please!” Irena screamed. “It’s her birthday, not today please!”

It wasn’t normal for him to listen, especially to pleads. It wasn’t normal for him to see
Ginger always cling to Irena and looking at him like looking at a nightmare.

It wasn’t normal for him to like finding the threads, fabrics, embroidered designs and his
crippled esteem spread on the floor everyday.

It wasn’t easy for him to not think that Irena and Ginger’s laughter is a teasing mirror to
him and his failure.

It wasn’t normal for him to be normal, not with them.

He stepped inside the door frame looking at the miniature with red eyes who stood like a
timid rabbit in front of him. The rabbit whose eyes were pink with fear and shock.

“See what we got here. A gift!” He snatched the box from her tight grip fixed to her chest
and tore it open. And with the torn paper, the crackles of her eyes tore open to burning
tears.

He pulled his hand back and forth to throw it to a place where the mother of the gift laid
sprawled, and Ginger ran behind it with the same momentum.

“Yes, go away you too! This is my house! First go and learn to respect the Man of the house.
Go!” He threw his words like he would throw spit on the road and closed the door shut.