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(created 2012-09-16 14:53):
Dozens of blank-white pages delicately sewn into a leather cover. I wondered what purpose the book served in Mariao s life, so I walked up to her and asked her what she was reading.
o I am reading the pages.o Maria replied in an innocent voice.
o The pages?o
o Yes. The blank pages.o
After seeing that I looked confused, she added, o They are telling me stories.o
o Oh! What stories are they telling you?o
Maria smiled a toothless grin. o A penguin.o
o A penguin? Does the penguin have any friends?o I was sitting beside her now.
o Yes, the seahorse. They play water games together.o
o They must be happy to be friends, huh?o I smiled at her.
When the school day was over, all the parents arrived to pick their kids up as any other day. Maria was in the restroom across the hall when her mother arrived, a little bit late.
o I am so sorry, I got caught up at work.o Her mother apologized through a thick, Hispanic accent.
o Thato s fine. Mariao s just in the restroom.o I smiled at her.
o Ah, ok.o She smiled back. o How is she doing?o
o She is doing extremely well. I haveno t seen a student like her. I even considered the possibility of bumping her up a grade.o
o I dono t think that is possible.o She replied with a sad smile. o Maria has slight autism, so Io m not sure how excelling her would affect her learning.o
I was honestly surprised about Maria's condition. o Oh, I didno t know that. She appears perfectly fine to me. Although, I do have one question.o
o Is it the journal?o Mariao s mother said as if on cue. o I could ask for her to leave it at home if ito s too much of a distraction.o
o Oh, no! Io m perfectly fine with it. I was just wondering about it. Is it a form of imagination exercise?o
She smiled o Yes, exactly! I am really glad she has a teacher that understands. The journal helps her cope.. with certain things.o
o Well dono t worry, Mrs. Edeson, your daughter is in good hands. I will put all of my effort into encouraging her!o
Mariao s mother grinned o Thato s not my last name. It is, well was, my husbando s last name. We had some problems changing Mariao s name, so she is still that.o She explained.
o I am so sorry.o I felt really embarrassed. o I hope you are doing well.o
o Oh yes, weo re doing fine.o She shook it off. o He was a nice, proper man. Still probably is. Intelligent too o has a PhD in biochemistry.o She chuckled a bit. o Funny how such a brilliant man could be such a bad father. He disappeared when Maria was only two. No one has ever heard from him since. I never contacted him, and the investigators never found him.o
o Wow. Thato s kind of spooky.o I said, still a little embarassed. At this moment Maria entered the classroom. She greeted her mother, gave me a slight wave and they left. Yet, I couldno t stop thinking about Maria for a long time after that.
So for the past couple of weeks, every recess I would come up to Mariao s tree and listen to her o reado the blank pages aloud. Some stories were about families, some were about friendships, and some had lessons about being nice to others. And all of them had the sweetest, happiest endings. I swear, if I could record each one of her stories I would. One of my favorites was about a mermaid who wanted to be friends with a dolphin, but was afraid to talk to him because they looked different. In the end, as expected, they became best friends. It might seem silly to some of you, but it was very heartwarming and very incredible to me.
Everything was going well except this morning.
Maria was sitting under the oak tree as she did every day. Except she didno t have the book with her. In fact, I spotted the journal in the middle of the soccer field, as if she hurled it there.
o Whato s wrong, Maria? Why areno t you reading your stories?o
o There was a bad story.o She said, eyes looking into the distance.
o Ito s ok, there are always a few bad stories here and there.o I took her hand o Will you tell me about it?o
She was silent for a few seconds. There was something unsettling about the silence.
o There was a man.o
I was a little surprised, even uncomfortable, when I heard her say o mano . Most of her stories were about animals, creatures, things that you would hear about in a fairy tale. And if they were about people, she would say things like o brothero , o daddyo , o grandpao . Never o mano .
o Yes?o she stayed silent for a little bit more. When she started again her voice was shaky.
o There was a man who took her shoes.o
o Whoo s shoes?o
o The little girlo s.o
I thought for a moment. o Thato s not a very nice thing to do, is it?o
Maria shook her head o He took more.o
o What else did he take?o Her hat? Her glasses? Hopefully not her clothing.
o He took her toes.o
My mouth went a little dry. How did innocent Maria think of something like this?
After a pause she added. o Then he took her feet.o
Okay, something is really not right here. I wanted to make her stop, make her stay the sweet girl she is supposed to be but as a teacher and a mentor I was forced to listen.
o Then he took her shins.o
I felt uneasy.
o Then he took her knees.o
Please stop, Maria. Dono t tell me the story.
o Then he took her legs.o
I closed my eyes. This couldno t be true. A child her age cano t simply change their way of thinking so spontaneously. She was very happy this morning. This isno t psychologically possible.
o Then he saw her insides.o
I couldno t help but paint that image in my head. It was a bad idea to do that.
o Then he wrote on her belly.o
I finally opened my mouth to speak. o What did he write?o My throat was dry and my voice was croaky. Which was bad, seeing that I am her teacher and am supposed to seem indestructible to an extent.
Maria thought about it. o Numbers.o
o Whato ¦ numbers?o
She scrunched up her face, as if trying to remember. o I dono t know.o
I sighed, and said to her while patting her back, o Well, this was a really scary story, but it isno t real, right? Everything is ok. Youo re still a very nice, smart girl whoo s safe with me and your mommy.o I smiled. To my relief, she smiled back.
As she ran towards the building to get a drink, I went into the field to fetch the book. The book was lying open, the blank pages touching the grass. I proceeded to pick up the book. And any good emotions I had at the moment completely drained when I saw the page the book was opened to.
The page wasno t blank. In a childo s handwriting, something was scrawled across the page. Numbers.
Ten digits. Nothing more.
I was practically shaking when the bell rang to finish recess. I somehow managed to pull myself together to teach for the rest of the day. The afternoon was a blur, and I barely noticed Mariao s mother pick her up and leave. It was probably a mistake not to consult her, but I was so shaken by what happened that I definitely could not have gotten myself to mention anything on the topic.
I was so out of it, that only when I got home did I realize that I still possessed the little book. It was haunting, really. I couldno t even look at it, so I threw it under my bed. I didno t mention it to my husband that night, and simply stayed unusually quiet. He tried getting something out of me, but I couldno t say a word. I eventually mumbled that I wanted to go to bed early and went upstairs.
Except, I really couldno t sleep. I lied there for hours, thinking what could have caused the twist in Mariao s imagination. Where she got the numbers from. How they so closely resembled a phone number. How they appeared as if by magic, dancing across the blank pages.
At around 2:30 am, I couldno t hold it in any longer. I sneaked downstairs, careful not to wake up my husband, and pulled out my cell phone. Slowly I dialed.