Bitterness

Her heart felt bitterness took me by surprise. Especially coming from someone who was but fourteen years old. How had one so young developed such deep rooted cynicism?

On a warm autumn Monday I was babysitting for a neighbor and I had taken their two kids to the park. I sat on an isolated bench watching my charges blend in with a crowd of similar children chasing each other through the mazes of equipment that pass for playgrounds these days.

I noticed her across the way. Like me she had isolated herself on one of the many benches. Her knees were drawn up to her chest and her expression had a wistful, far-away look to it. She appeared to be watching two smaller children attempting to build a sand castle in dry sand, which always turns out to be a futile effort.

Before long she began pacing the sidewalk that surrounded the playground. Hands buried in the pockets of a black, oversized windbreaker. Her shoulders bowed with the weight of her world. Her feet covered by tattered Van's sneakers shuffled through the scattered sand.

We made eye contact several times. A nod. A passing smile, a tentative hello.

I invited her to sit down. When she hesitated I promised I would not bite. I pointed out my two charges that by now were rolling around in the sand and laughing without a care in the world.

I introduced myself and after a moments hesitation she gave hers as Alexis.

We discussed the usual topics that strangers do when they are attempting to find common ground. Commonality was difficult to find considering our age differences.

Finally we settled on horror novels, which as it turned out we both had an affinity for. While she leaned toward Anne Rice I am a Stephen King fan myself. We compared Interview with a Vampire to Salem's Lot. We discussed The Stand and The Queen of the Damned.

Once she was more comfortable I began to pry a little being nosy by nature.

I asked her about school. She was a sophomore in high school. She did not enjoy school though she believed that she was dumb, slow and had a lousy memory.

I told her that I found that hard to believe considering the detail she was able to give in discussing her favorite books.

I asked her what she planned to do upon graduating from high school. Would she be going on to college?

Her reply floored me. Not only did she have no plans for college but she did not even believe she would finish high school. When pressed she just repeated that she was too dumb to graduate so why bother dreaming.
What about the future I asked? How will you survive without some basic skills?

Again she left me speechless. She assumed that when she was eighteen she would become a stripper. According to her they make good money and she would be able to support herself.

I tried to grasp the hopelessness that she felt at fourteen but I could not.

She said when she looks in the mirror all she sees is a nothing, a nobody, a loser. The only thing that kept her climbing out of bed in the morning was the love she received from her brother and sister who she was watching there in the park. If not for them, she said, her life would be empty and she believed she would be useless.

I attempted to improve her self-esteem. I told her that she carried herself well and was a good conversationalist especially when discussing topics she found interesting.

She smiled but there was no belief in her eyes. In her mind life was over for her. She was stuck in the quicksand of cynicism and no mere words were going to rescue her.

By this time the sun was beginning to set and her two charges were ready to head home as were mine.

She thanked me for listening and with slight but bitter smile she walked away.