Polytechnic High School - Caerulea Yearbook (Long Beach, CA)

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LITERARY 11 Walk, walk-. Think of it, walk! ! Of course it was you. Mrs. Jones opened the door, but she didn't know I was leaning with my back against you. You did. QThe Girl now wheels herself quite close to the Doorj And I, just a little girl, fell down the hard steps, and below it was harder-oh, so hard. And I canit walk now. QWitl1 a bitter smilej You open out, a symbol of hope. Hope, for what! Youive never b1'ought happiness. lNIornings lVIother goes out and works and works and works for me and you let her in at night, tired, worn, older. Every evening I hope against hope that something hasnlt happened to Mother, but I know. I know that some day you will do something to keep her away from me. QAfter a pause, with a half humorous smile. She wheels herself backwards to the window at the right of the door and watches. Dusk is gathering outsidej Girl: Oh, Mother, why don't you come? QA pausej I can't bear this waiting. fVVheels over to table and nervously runs through a number of loose papers. Some fall to the floor. Her look of annoyance changes to one of eager love as she hears a footstep for which she has been half-listening all the time. The door opens to admit a very large fat woman, in an apron, carrying something. She fairly sails, or rather as if forging along in spite of heavy seas, comes in.j Neighbor Qwith an Irish broguej: Oi just knocked and come right in. Shur-re an Oi thought you might loike this little .snack of something war-rm. QShe sails on through the left door into the room off. A crash, perhaps of a dishpan, is hea1'd. The Girl starts. While before her face betrayed merely dull disappointment, it now shows active annoyance. The jolly chuckle she hears does nothing to calm her feelingsj If that ainlt the funniest! Oi just goes by and the dishpan goes down. Soon and Oi'll be fat lady in a circus. C More chuckles.j Girl ffairly drawing into her shell with a distant manner and lifeless tone of voicej: Thank you for the food, Mrs. O,Brian. Goodbye. fl'--nur-vw

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10 CAERULEA '22 and leaves and flowers, the imitation oak and leather furniture, of huge and mighty trunks of lovable brown trees. A girl of about eighteen, the Girl, is sitting sketching in an invalid's wheel-chair by the table in the center of the room. She turns and gazes intently with squinted eyes at the front door Qleft backj, makes a few more strokes on the paper with quick, nervous movements and, with a bitter expression, discards the several papers in her lap on to the table, and wheels herself over to the single window fright front.j She stares moodily out the window and then, half- facing you, looks blankly straight before her. After almost a minute with a tired, lifeless look, her eyes wander first to the window at her side, to the one over her left shoulder at the front of the house, then as her gaze slips across the short space of wall to the door her face is contorted into a look of fear and then bitter hate. Now she turns and looks doggedly straight at you, though really at a blank wall. Her brea-st rises and falls spasmodicallyg she lifts long, slim, tense hands and clenches and unclenches them. They drop again motionless, clasped in her lap. You are feeling uncomfortable at her gaze when you notice that her eyes are being drawn again by a long route past the blank wall to a door leading to some other room, and gradually on to the ordinary looking door. The same emotions hold her face while she 1'aises her ar111s holding them tense to her and clenches her hands at her neck. Girl Qstill glaring in a partially repressed way at the doorj: Oh I hate you. I hate you. QNo longer repressed, her voice is high and thin, almost a scream, with emotion. Her hands now grasp the arms of her chair as she leans forward with a visible effortj I hate you. gShe relaxes slightlyj You stand and leer, and leer, and leer at me all day. CShe wheels herself with quick little jerks nearer, but not near to the Door, about in the center of the roomj When I think--first, Father-they carried him away, cold, alone, through you. And you closed. I cried and beat against you with llly tiny fists. But you were closed. I was a tiny girl, yes, but I remember, I remember. I could walk once QHer voice rises againj

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12 CAERULEA '22 IHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIllIIIIIIHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIVIIHIIIIIHVIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIHIIIlIIIlIIIlIIIllIIIlIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIHIIlIIIllIIlIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIllIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIllIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII Neighbor Cwho is used to this, and not to be dauntedj: Now what could Oi do with a little bit loike that besides. And how is the drorin'? fiPicking up the papers on the floor to the intense annoy- ance of the Girlj More pritties. VVell, ain't that just beeyeutiful? C Not really liking them, but trying to be kindj And your mother said the lady said they be most clever-r and unusual. Pr-raps and we'll have a fine drorer some- CHere loud cries of Maman Mama are heard and a young cyclone now literally bursts through the door.j Boy fchanting as his eyes sparkle, and he grinsj: Baby's fell out a the high-chair and broke his front tooth. Qhlama rushes out flinging a Goodbye', over her shoulder but the boy remains with his expression changed to one of big eyed interest and awe.j Boy: Gee, you drorin, agin. Gee, that was a swell cat you done t'other day! Whisk yould dror me a cat like that'n. S'meanest lookin' cat I ever seen. I betcha my pupp'd just eat that pitcher if I showed it to him. Say, ya honest ta John say ya saw a cat like that in th, door? Sure was a mean cat. Iim gonna look. fThe youngster bounces over to the door, left back, and balanced on one ear, one hand, and one foot is going through awfulidistortionsj Girl Qin a quiet tonej: Itis a mean door, Pat. Boy: VVhashasay? QHis voice is muffled slightly by his present position.j Girl Qsmiling sweetly and amusedlyj: You're looking at the dog now. The catis down a little further. Boy: Uh gosh, I bilieves I sees a dorg. I likes this, I does. Say whatcha call the wiggles on this door what makes these pictures? Girl: The grain of the wood, Pat. Boy: Somethin' funny ,bout 'em, isn't there! Just makes me feel shivery. Theyls got slmany wiggles they looks kinda shivery theyselves. You wanta look at ,em again though. You drors 'em even funnier, meaner likean, they looks. I likes 'em though. 1,111 gonno see that cat I betcha-. .Iust watch mel Qllat proceeds to stand on his head, propped against the door.j