The Janitor

Karrie's shoebox size wooden bed rested against the dark green wall. She slept easily and dreamt. The darkness around her obscured the silent motions on the wall, on which miniature, silver-grey painted elephants gathered in unrounded circles and shook their mighty trunks. They were dancing together in a festive jungle symphony, running wildly and free. Thick, lush meadow-grass massaged their pounding feet and gave them a soft, pillowed undertow. They were ballarenias on steroids, and seemed to be gliding on air. Most of them, maybe 10, followed the stoic lead of their proud patriarch, a daring behemoth of layered muscle and bulk. His silver poise penetrated even the night's black. Just to his left wandered a baby bull, indifferent to her guardian but secure in his and everyone's presence. Her innocent eyes expressed calm and wonder, as the hand-painted wall artistry, tonight unlit, captured in exquisite detail.

She ran with abandon, the baby bull, and looked funny. Somehow, her unbridled independence exceeded the gravity of her mass, modest as it was. She was nearly tumbling, it appeared, like a runaway boulder down a cliff. She didn't care and charged on into the boundless frontier wilds. Beyond her, the sky was orange bright and cloudless; it cast waves of growing shadows deep within the depths of surrounding black jungles. The air was still quite thin and still a morning cool. She could feel an ease to her rapid and steady breaths. Sounds of the ambient charge from the commandeering family nearby pulsated in her oversized, floppy ears and gave her steady confidence. The cavalry was on her flank. She kicked out her rear legs as she ran, flailing at every and any invisible enemy or predator, and she smiled internally at her conditioned courage and the dexterity of her growing frame. Her chaperons had taught her well. Each romp of unity with them served as a ritual for survival and growth. She was no longer a work in progress, and the patriarch would be proud. Her youth was passing before her innocent eyes, but she was relishing every moment.

In a flash, the atmosphere reversed itself. A deep primordial yell bellowed from the Patriarch. He was blowing his bullhorn. Trouble loomed, somewhere around them in the vast unseen. The air suddenly became heavy, and the jungle shadows came alive. She could see the herd slowing, tightening its instinctive net. The loop of safety was closing. Collective roars began to emerge from the wary herd. Her own instincts began to stir, and she felt a frightening tension. She wished she were closer to them. Much closer. Fear, suddenly, enveloped her as if something over there, right there, in the unsought dark was coming, and coming fast....

"Wake up, my princess. Wake up from your sweet dreams." Karrie raised her hummingbird eyelids and saw her dad's leathered, smiling face. She turned toward him and stared with delight. He was caught by a ray of light as he opened her blinds, and he looked like a zebra for a moment. "Good morning, papa. You look like a zebra face." He chuckled and shook her gently to hurry for school. Karrie layed there for an extended minute, as she always did when he woke her, and then she glanced over at the jungle wall, where the spirited elephants danced silently away.

She saw him cooking as she eased into the kitchen moments later. His back was slightly hitched, and his wool shirt was untucked. He was losing weight. "Is that bacon," she kidded him, knowing that it was. Her papa loved to make her bacon, which was a favorite of hers since her mom had died years ago. "Bacon for my precious," he countered, "and drink your juice." Karrie was used to the daily rituals by now and even at 12 was well managed to handle most of what she needed, including getting ready for school. A quick breakfast half hour with her papa, before he left for work, was enough to keep her in line. She wasn't perfect, she knew, and skipping school was never far from her mind.

"Ok, let's eat, " he said, setting down the steamy square pan on the table while handing his daughter a knapkin and a plate. He rolled up his sleeves. "Grace first," he reminded her. "And you washed your hands?" he added, not expecting an answer. Karrie flicked her shoulder-length brown hair and nodded. She then bowed her head and closed her eyes. She did so hoping for a fleeting moment that she'd spot her mom, who was resting somewhere-always- in the crevices of her youthful memory. "I need to leave early today," came her papa's interrupting words. "There's waxing needed and I have to begin on the top floors. It always takes me longer," he said, swallowing coffee between his words.

"I know, papa. And I'll do the dishes when you leave." They exchanged a fleeting eye promise, and his face erupted in pride. "That's my precious," he said, and blew her a palm kiss. Karrie did, indeed, know well his schedule, just as she knew his expectations of her. She began to know them increasingly better than her papa did as the gap in their awareness level shifted more to her favor with each passing year. She could sense and understood his aging and forgetfulness, which explained why he repeated so often what she already knew. He was getting old. She looked at him, appraised his dress like she was doing her homewrok and told him his shirt was hanging out. He murmured something under his breath but half-smiled. Before she knew it he was out the door.

Karrie didn't mean to stay home from school that day. Somehow, laziness caught her like a spider grabs an unsuspecting fly. That weird mood fell on her as she was getting ready to leave. It was a kid's mood, hard to resist and or explain. Some things had no rationale. She was too young to feel guilty about it, but old enough to understand her dad didn't like her doing things like that on her own. "Don't let me hear from your teachers that you're not in school," he'd bark. But, in truth, he rarely ever barked-perhaps because she rarely stayed home. She sat silent for a second and tried to configure her day. "I can paint the wall, "she said to herself with a sense of delight, and then headed back into her room.