Short Story

In English we wrote a lot of short stories. We chose one to revise. The story that I chose to work on was my symbol story.

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Lunch

Alice woke up, got dressed, combed her hair, ate breakfast, and brushed her teeth. There was only one more thing to do before school: pack her lunch. She used to do it with Daddy while her mom got ready for work, but she never seemed to see him nowadays, and besides, she was old enough to do it on her own anyway. It was a ritual. First was the juice box, placed with care at the bottom of her lunch box, then an apple. After that was something to add a little variety: today it was a stick of string cheese. She always saved the best for last, and in her mind there was nothing better than a good old PB&J. She had seen other students in her fifth grade class bring turkey sandwiches, tuna salad sandwiches, and a variety of many other things, but for Alice there was only one definition of a delicious lunch.

The cold air flowed into her face as she pulled open the refrigerator door. She removed the strawberry jelly and set it next to the two waiting slices of bread sitting on a plate then returned to the fridge to get the peanut butter. She scooted the leftovers from last night’s too-large dinner to one side, then the other. Her mom always cooked too much when it was just the two of them. Craning her neck to try to see into the very back of the fridge, she moved the carton of milk and pulled out the eggs, but still the elusive peanut butter was nowhere to be found. Alice’s brow furrowed slightly as she tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

“Mom!” she called. “Where’s my peanut butter?” There was no response for a minute, and Alice’s frown deepened as she moved to sit at the table; her mother never seemed to be around when she wanted her. Daddy was a lot better about things like that.

“Yes, pumpkin?” Alice’s mother appeared in the doorway. Her makeup was only halfway done, and she was trying to put on her earrings.

“Peanut Butter,” Alice said in return.

“Oh! I forgot, Sweetie, I’m sorry. I used the last of it to make those cookies for the potluck at work,” she paused fiddling with her ear to look up at Alice. “I’ll buy you a new jar this weekend. I promise.” Then she was gone, back to the bathroom to find a mirror, but from down the hall she called back with an afterthought, “I think there’s some almond butter in the back of the fridge if you want!”

Alice got up slowly. That was so typical of her mom. Work always seemed more important. It was different with Daddy, but he wasn’t here right now. He always had a smile or joke ready for her, even after another day at his job, or another night of angrily whispered arguments with her mother that had seemed so loud in the lonely darkness of her room. She shifted the food in the refrigerator around again, and found what she was looking for. She held up the jar, hefting its cold weight in her hands. Almond butter? Who ever heard of almond butter? She replaced it, and made herself a rather sad looking jelly sandwich.

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Alice was not happy. She had endured an entire week of just jelly, and now this was happening. Daddy was supposed to take her here, not her mom. This was their special place. Every year for as long as she could remember, she and Daddy had come to this little lake to go fishing right around this time when the orange and brown leaves floated down gently on the breeze, and fish were spawning, so there were plenty to catch. Alice sat on a rock and looked out across the rippling water. Her mother had forgotten to buy night crawlers, which both she and Daddy knew were the best for catching the rainbow trout here. Then as if her thoughts had a summoning power, she heard footsteps behind her.

“Aren’t you having fun?” her mother said. “ I know it’s not the same, but we can still have a good time, right? Just the two of us.” She gave Alice’s shoulder a playful little shake. Alice harrumphed and stuck out her bottom lip in a pout.

“Daddy should be here,” she said petulantly. Her mother sighed and sat down next to her. She wasn’t wearing make up for once, and she had replaced her usual neat work clothes with a pair of faded jeans and a sweatshirt.

“I know this had been hard on you,” she said, placing her arm around Alice’s shoulders and giving her a quick squeeze, “but it’s better for us this way, and he has his own things to worry about now.” Alice was silent, but she stuck out her lip farther and creased her forehead. The two of them stayed like that for a moment longer, and then her mother got up and retrieved a fishing pole.

She offered the rod to Alice. Alice pretended not to notice. Her mother gave a sigh and cast the line out. The silence settled over them. Alice glanced up at her mother’s face. She looked older without her make up, but Alice decided that she liked the look more. It reminded her of what it was like when her parents were still together. Everything had been simpler, happier, and more innocent. Alice felt tears prick the corners of her eyes, and she turned her head away from her mother, angry with herself for showing such weakness, but also angry at her mother for not caring. Didn’t she know much Alice wanted to be with Daddy? Alice was sure that if her mother truly loved her, she would let Daddy come back.

The silence stretched on. Alice could see her mother’s distorted reflection in the lake. Even through all the ripples her slumped posture spoke of exhaustion, and the fishing pole was grasped loosely in her hands. As Alice watched, new ripples appeared on the surface of the water. They were small, as if from drops of water, but it wasn’t raining. Was her mother…? Alice turned her head away in embarrassment, children were not supposed to see their parents cry.

Suddenly she felt bad, and despite what she had felt earlier about her mother, an urge to comfort her came over Alice. She hesitated a moment longer, then taking a deep breath, she scooted closer on the rock. Without a word, she took the fishing pole from her mother’s hands.

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The weekend was over, and it was time for school again. She had her juice box, her apple, and a bag of cookies. The bread and the jelly were sitting on the table. Her mother had not bought anything this weekend, she knew. But as she closed the refrigerator she decided that she could deal without her peanut butter, and almonds might not taste so bad on her sandwich after all.