New Short Story: "Different"

 

Different

by Brian Greene

 

Sandra was 11 years old and at church with her mother. It was the part of the mass where the priest encourages members of the congregation to stand up, find others they don’t know who are situated in their vicinity, introduce themselves to each other, and warmly shake hands.

Sandra’s mother’s back was turned to her daughter as she greeted someone. Sandra was approached by a tall woman who had long, red-painted fake fingernails and who wore strong-smelling perfume. The woman reached out to shake Sandra’s hand. Sandra looked at the woman’s fake fingernails, grimaced, then quickly waved to the woman before putting her own hands behind her back. The woman moved in closer to Sandra, pulled one of her arms free, grabbed that wrist, and went to force a handshake between them. Sandra jerked her arm loose and leaned up and slapped the woman, hard, across the face.

Later that afternoon, Sandra was in her room, in bed, reading Nancy comics. Her mother came to the room. They hadn’t spoken to each other since Sandra’s mother, red-faced, rushed them out of the church. Sandra’s mother hesitantly wanted to start a conversation. But Sandra spoke first, not taking her eyes off the comic book page as she talked.

“I love the guitar the one nun played, when the nuns went up and did that song. With that pretty flowery plate thing on the head of it. Can you get me a guitar like that?”