Two Eyes by: Melissa Gil, White Pencil, 2019
Mia and Olivia
Mia stood in the tall grass, shielding her eyes from the broken light of the morning. Across the clearing, birds carried on with the regular morning screech. She’d missed the robins, whose trills and calls were much smoother, and less guttural sounding.
The robins came only in the coldest months and she’d like to believe, though logically she knew it was unlikely, it was relatively the same flock that stopped by every year. It was the closest she had to a family visit. Despite most of her hair being grey, she was not a grandmother. She was not a mother either. She hadn’t been for a long while.
Her small house was located six miles from town and surrounded completely by woods. Mind you, it was not such a lonely existence, and she preferred it. Everyone seemed to bother her those days. But that spring, her peaceful existence had been interrupted.
A mile away, the vacant cottage by the river was no longer vacant. It had been taken up by a young family. While she had only caught glimpses of them in the past two weeks, they seemed very normal. The young couple and their daughter, who seemed around three, had walked past Mia’s property a few times. Once the mother had stopped and pointed to Mia’s house with one arm while holding her child on her hip with the other. She was saying something to her husband and had tight blonde curls that moved wildly as she spoke. Her husband had a tall, slender figure, and always walked with his hands clasped together behind his back. Every time they walked past they seemed to be getting closer and closer, like vultures. Even more unsettling, she had seen the mother with her face pressed against Mia’s window one afternoon. Luckily she’d been standing where she couldn’t see her. Had she ever thought to knock?
Before going out to her garden, Mia fell into a habit of peeking through her blinds and checking that the coast was clear.
It was only in the few hours of the morning that she felt comfortable being outside, they rarely seemed to leave the house before ten.
“Hi!” a voice rang out behind her.
A small panic shot up from Mia’s chest, as she turned to see the woman with blonde curls. She was wearing a loose button-up shirt and khakis that cut off right above her knobby knees. She fidgeted nervously for a moment before speaking.
“I hate to bother you. I knocked on the front door first but thought someone might be back here.” She had a light way of speaking, and her voice lifted at the end of each sentence. “But my daughter slipped and cut her leg. I washed it with soap but I don’t know which box our ointment and band-aids are in…” her voice trailed off, studying Mia’s face.
She looked much younger up close and without her daughter on her hip. She began speaking again, this time faster. Most likely unnerved by Mia’s silent stare. “I shouldn’t have bothered you, I’m sorry—My husband and I thought this house was abandoned but I wasn’t sure, because the outside was too well kept for that, it’s beautiful, really. I’m hopeless when it comes to growing things—”
Mia sighed a bit, before interrupting the woman’s rambling. She seemed nice enough. “How deep is it?”
“What?”
“Your daughter’s cut.”
“Oh, it’s not bad really. I just don’t want it getting infected.”
Mia paused for a moment, thinking. She then began peeling off her gardening gloves and striding to her back door.
“I have some bandages, but if you want ointment you’ll have to drive in town to the pharmacy.” The woman scurried to follow her.
She began speaking with less nervousness in her voice, “Thank you! I’m Olivia, by the way, we live two miles west.”
Mia walked up the stairs of her porch, opening her screen door. “Just give me a minute, miss Olivia—” she turned around to see Olivia halfway up the steps, but upon the older woman’s pause in speaking and blatant stare, she began awkwardly stepping back down. “—while I’ll get you your band-aids.” Mia looked at her again, studying her like some rare species, before disappearing into her house.
She rummaged through her wooden kitchen cabinets a bit before finding a somewhat squished variety pack of band-aids and checked inside to make sure it wasn’t empty.
When she reappeared Olivia was down in the garden, looking at Mia’s rosebush with awe. It was an even variety of white and red roses, one of the first things she began growing when she moved out here. After roses, it was tulips, lemons, oranges, and bell peppers. Her garden had grown out steadily over the years, and now stretched an eighth of a mile back, with small dirt paths running through to keep things organized. It had been a lot of work, and a bit exhausting at times, but incredibly rewarding. Any maternal instincts she had (there were very few) were focused on the things she grew.
Olivia reached out her bare hand to one of the roses, and just as she grabbed the stem she audibly gasped and drew her hand back with a jolt. It was like watching a pigeon fly into a glass window. Who grabs a rose stem with their entire bare palm?
She let the screen door fall shut, making an audible whack, to announce her presence. Olivia’s curls bounced back as she lifted her head in slight alarm, and moved her bleeding hand behind her back. Mia walked out to meet her by the roses and tapped the hand Olivia was keeping hidden, “Gotta watch out for those thorns.”
Olivia didn’t respond but sighed heavily. “You’re very talented, being able to do this all by yourself.” She gestured to the expansive garden.
“It’s not really that hard after a couple of years.”
Olivia’s green eyes remained fixed on the garden, clearly caught up in her own thoughts. “My husband says I couldn’t keep a cactus alive.”
Mia chortled. “What’s he got you out here for then?”
“I hardly know.” The young mother laughed faintly.
“Do you both work?”
“Charles is a writer, working on a story now. That’s why he wanted to be out here.”
“What kind of story?”
“He won’t tell me, says it’s a secret.”
Mia nodded with vague approval, she understood wanting privacy.
“You got any kids of your own?” Olivia asked.
Mia shifted her weight uncomfortably. “No, not for a long time.”
“Oh, I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to—”
Mia cut her off. “It’s all right.”
Olivia studied her face carefully.
“I think you ought to get these band-aids back home.”
Olivia smiled politely as she took the box of band-aids from Mia’s aging hands. “Thank you.”