Fading Days of Red – Part 1

by Danyelle Hershkopf

On the first day of ninth grade, the English teacher, whatever her name was, was droning on about…hell, I can’t remember. What I mostly remember is how I was looking anywhere but the board, which included staring at the girl next to me.

She was drawing on the desk. I was going to point out that it was school property and that she’d get in trouble, but then I noticed her art. All the little circles and ovals were becoming refined. A sailor boy on a swing was emerging. I was wondering how in hell she could see, because her spiky black hair covered the right side of her face. Throughout the hour I watched her, because let’s be honest: do you care what happened in Crime and Punishment, or whatever we were reading?

As the bell rang, the girl’s eraser fell. I picked it up, and handed it to her. Right before I got up to leave, she gasped.

“Wait! You, kid! What’s your name?” she asked.

“Atticus,” I replied, trying not to seem rude, but nearly doubling over with laughter. I mean, I gave her an eraser, not saved her life.

Trust me: I definitely did not save her life.

“I’m Ruby-Scarlet. Listen, you’ve got some lovely hands, and so, can I draw them?”

“What the hell?”

Ruby-Scarlet tried again, slowly. “I am not good at drawing hands; you have a nice bone structure. Can we go to a park or café or something so I can draw your hands? But the café is pretty cliché, so not that.”

“Oh. Um, then…ok?” To be honest, I only agreed because I had no plans in particular. But to her, it seemed like a relief. Like if I didn’t agree, I was barring her access to Art Valhalla.

If I thought about it carefully, I would have documented the numerous factors that led to our meeting. How her love for embroidery led her to practice drawing for her numerous decorated drapes, how I chose the English class because my friend was going to be there, and how he had to move unexpectedly to another state; how the angle she sat led to her knocking over that eraser.

I don’t believe in fate or coincidences, so don’t expect that. As my therapist, you deserve to hear it all. That’s why I started from the first day, so you can get what’s going on.