September
Tim Runge
It’s a rainy afternoon and a high school just let out for the day. Teens come rushing out, excited and elated to be out of class. One girl in particular doesn’t fit this mold. She looks irritated as she walks, books clutched tightly, to her home. This girl is September Stephens.
A group of roughhousing boys fail to notice September (following in the footsteps of many who came before them) and carelessly run into her knocking her into a puddle in the street. She gets herself up, as she always does, and soldiers on home. Her tears betray her halfhearted attempt to regain some dignity, and something below the surface stirs.
The rain stops with her tears as she turns the corner on her street. The closer she gets to home the more relaxed she feels. She opens the gate and heads up the sidewalk passed the well-kept lawn. She skips every other step as she confidently glides up to the front porch and dutifully removes her shoes and enters.
A series of quick flashbacks ensue each showcasing parts of her life. Flash back 16 years: her father Donald is yelling in a room adjacent to an empty room with a crib. Flash again, 2 year-old September is held by her mother, Martha, who looks at her with love as dad bursts in, bottle in hand. Flash to Donald raising his hand to Martha with violent intent as September (approx. 8) looks on in tears. A loud bang and a flash to September as a young teen on the ground crying as a female shoulder is placed on her arm encouraging her to stand. The hand belongs to her Aunt. Flash back to the present.
Inside the house September is greeted with Happy Birthday banners, this is her 16th birthday. Her aunt and uncle hug her and give her small gifts, but her aunt has a despairing look in her eye. She directs September to the kitchen table where a box sits, wrapped in brown paper and bound with twine. The package states it’s from the prison.
Outside September is running down the street, tears flowing like the rain that is pouring down. Random flashes from before can be seen, her parents arguing, a gun shot, police lights. She can no longer contain herself. She falls to her knees in the rain and screams. She sits there for a little while, unable to contain her emotion, she’s letting out everything that had been bottled up for the last 3 years, things that a 16 year old might not be able to handle on her own.
The rude boys are still horsing around. This time the rain adds to their roughhouse and again they fail to notice September. They knock her into another puddle. No longer interested in trying to contain herself, September jumps up screaming. Knocking each of the confused boys over one by one, they don’t fight her. She yells at them explaining that the world doesn’t revolve around them and gets them to think about how they’ve been treating her.
Her uncle’s car pulls up and she gets in. He doesn’t yell at her, doesn’t say anything. They just drive home. She goes into her room and changes into some dry clothes. She comes back downstairs and sits at the table. Her Aunt and Uncle place the hands supportively on her shoulders. In front of her on the table is a toy horse and the letter that she threw on the ground.
He aunt volunteers to read the letter out loud, September agrees. The letter is from her mother who went to prison shortly after shooting her abusive husband in the head. He died instantly. September had no contact with her (per her mother’s request) in 3 years. In the letter, her mother explains that she had always felt torn between doing what she knew had to be done and leaving her little girl who, even though they’d been apart all these years, still lights up her dreams at night. When September was younger, and daddy was away at the bar, her mother told her that when she was 16 she would buy September a horse so she could gallop away and not worry about daddy coming home and hurting her. The toy horse was the best she could do given her current incarceration. She assured September that she loved her and thought of her often. She did, in fact, wish to see her little girl. She closed the letter by telling her not to let her anger control her. If she lived by anger she’d miss out on love. The one good thing about her husband was that he gave her September. May the bastard rest in…. nah she was still glad he was dead.
Her aunt and uncle gave her a hug, and they talked about when they should head over to the prison.
It’s a coming of age story that deals with loss and trauma, and one girl’s fight to overcome her emotions.
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