The Meadow Annual Literary Arts Journal 2022

130 The Meadow of various colors growing in their front yard by their front chain link fence. I thought they were nice and pretty, though I knew better than to say anything. They did attract bees, though, and Dad was attacked by a bunch of them one afternoon while mowing the lawn. He cursed, throwing his shoes at them, howling every time one stung or bit. It was as if he had forgot a certain series of dance moves, and now it was audition time underneath bright, hot stage lights. A dust cloud rolled behind her bike. She maneuvered around bumps and small jumps with ease. She was training, or something like that, and her parents had built a course for her. But now she was riding every afternoon, despite Dad’s actions and Mom’s scowling and even my brother’s little talks with Mary. They would meet on the fence line before it got too dark for them to see, standing face-to-face, their arms folded in reverse image of each other, talking over the barbed wire, gesturing to the barn, to our house and theirs. I watched them from my bedroom window, but then I’d get bored and slump down the wall, balling into a lump on my sheets, tired from the day, from school, from the swings or kickball. “Go make sure Dad knows,” he turned back to the barn. “I’ll finish up here.” I was about to run back to the house, about to count the seconds it took for me to sprint from the corral to the fence for the backyard, about to open the kitchen door and see Mom over a Pyrex bowl full of melted chocolate, about to tap Dad on the arm, even though he was already dialing and peering through the blinds at Mary; but she cut a corner too sharp, and she bounced over a ridge and flew over the handlebars, kicking up dirt and dust into the air, her helmet flung, her gloves gone. It looked as if she got tired of riding and wanted to do cartwheels instead. The bike idled and fell, tangling in the barbed wire fence, dying in those metal arms. The house felt faraway, distant, a fog of sunlight shimmered, the windows were blank, the back door

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