Rebecca
a short story
by
Nancy Werlin
“Rebecca” copyright 2006 by Nancy Werlin.
This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Publication History
This short story originally appeared in the short story collection Twice Told: Original Stories Inspired by Original Art, drawings by Scott Hunt, published 2006 by Dutton Books, a division of Penguin Young Readers group.
Licensing
Smashwords Edition
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Rebecca
1. Photo.
Beckybek discovered the photo in the pocket of Daddy’s big old blue flannel shirt. She’d known—although neither Daddy nor Mommy had explicitly forbidden it—that it was probably a Bad Thing to prowl through their bureau drawers. But she felt entitled to be bad. After all, Daddy hadn’t bothered to ask Beckybek if it was okay for him to go away for two whole weeks. The fact that he called every night didn’t help. And this morning Mommy hadn’t listened about the purple T-shirt with the kitties that Beckybek wanted to wear. So, while Mommy was busy on the telephone talking to someone from work, Beckybek sidled right on into their bedroom and busied her own self patting folded jeans, sniffing socks, and rifling through stacks of familiar shirts. And ... well, just generally poking for something interesting.
The blue flannel shirt was a find, because Daddy wore it often and it was surprising he hadn’t taken it with him to Grand Forks. Beckybek dragged it out of the drawer, unbuttoned it carefully, and put it on. The soft folds of the tails pooled on the floor around her feet. The shoulders hung to her elbows. Beckybek didn’t need to check a mirror to know she looked adorable. She would go show Mommy—
It was then, as she bunched the shirt in her hands so she wouldn’t trip as she walked, that Beckybek felt the softened rectangular paper in the shirt’s breast pocket. Even before she drew it out, she guessed it was a photograph.
But it wasn’t of a place or person she knew.
She looked at it for a long time. Mostly she looked at the face of the little girl in the bunny suit. The little girl who was not Beckybek.
Then—driven by an impulse she couldn’t name—Beckybek took off the shirt, stuffed it back into Daddy’s drawer, and ran to her room to hide the photo in her purple purse.
2. Daddy’s Phone Call.
Mommy was smiling. “Your turn, Beckybek,” she said. She handed Beckybek the phone.
“I wanted to wish you good night, Becky-bunny,” Daddy began. He often called her that, Beckybek realized. Becky-bunny. Mommy did too, sometimes, but not as often…
“Good night,” said Beckybek, and pressed the disconnect button.
A minute later she told Mommy it was an accident, and she apologized, and Daddy called back, and talked to Beckybek for a long time. Beckybek talked back, but in her mind she could see the other little girl from the photo.
3. Hippety hop.
“Beckybek?” asked Mommy the next afternoon as she leaned out of the back door. “What are you doing in the yard, honey? I thought you were going to play with your dolls in your room.”
“I changed my mind.” Beckybek panted a little as she turned to face Mommy. “I’m—I have to practice something.”
“Oh?” said Mommy interestedly. “What’s that?”
Beckybek paused. Then she said, with dignity: “It’s a secret.”
“A secret! But can’t you tell me? Just between us.” Mommy had that look on her face, the soft look that said she found Beckybek amusing, adorable, miraculous. Beckybek loved that look. But she had to be firm, because of Daddy. Because of the photo that was not Beckybek. “Pretty please?” said Mommy.
“No,” said Beckybek.
Mommy shook her head sadly, but her expression was still all soft. She went back into the house. She didn’t peek, not even once.
So she didn’t see her daughter lift her fists to chest level, screw up her face in concentration, and then, determinedly—hop! hop! hop!—across the back yard.
4. Ears