Maria's World

Caught between her warring parents, Maria has troubles of her own.

They were late for Maria’s “assessment” as they rushed passed her school with the troll in the bathroom. And zipped by the public library with the dragon on the dome.

They screeched to a halt outside a squat grey lump of a building.

“Let’s go, honey,” said her mother.

Maria hesitated, “Mama, I’m sorry.”

“Just tell the truth, like we practised.”

Her mother held her hand as they entered Dr Silverstone’s office, even though she said she was a big girl now. The door was a little low and Mama had to duck, and she towered over the short round lady at the counter.

“We have an appointment,” said Mama, “Custody assessment,” she continued in a croak.

“This your daughter?” said the lady, she reminded Maria of Nana, all smiles and winks and too tight hugs.

“Of course,” Mama said, but she frowned like she did when the butcher said the same thing even though they’d been going there for years. It was because Mama was blond and tall, and Maria and Papa were dark and short.

“Please have a seat, Ma’am,” and to Maria she gestured at the door, “Go on through there.”

She smelled like coconuts and had a warm smile and chubby cheeks.

Maria liked her.

Mama spoke up, “The doctor comes highly recommended. She’s good with —?” she looked at Maria, the frown was deeper now and Maria’s stomach tightened.

“The best,” the lady said, and nudged Mama to a seat, where she sat down with her bag hugged to her chest and her thin little smile and a small wave for her only child.

Inside the room was close and a fire crackled, which Maria thought odd because it wasn’t nearly cold enough, but she forgot all about that because perched on a high-backed chair was a —

“Dwarf!” she blurted, just like her mother told her not too. A thousand times, a million times, but she was far too excited to remember that.

“We don’t say that,” said her new therapist, “Why don’t you —“

“I’ve never met a real life dwarf before! Do you live in a mine? Do you shave your beard? How many gems do you have?” said Maria, the questions ramming into each other as they tumbled out.

Eventually, Maria noticed the stony silence and stopped.

“We prefer “little person,” said the doctor.

“Sorry,” said Maria, and sat down, “Mama says I don’t notice when I hurt people’s feelings. That I must try harder to be more normal.”

“We don’t say that either.”

Maria didn’t think her assessment was going well. But the doctor gave her a smile, a real one even it was a little one.

Their conversation stuttered at first but then it flowed from subject to subject. About her school and her best friend, about her hobbies and the camera around her neck. The one Papa gave her before he left. Before her mother “…drove him away,” he’d said.

“Tell me about your camera?”

“It’s a magic.”

“Oh, really?”

“For my “Magical Maria” Papa said.”

“That’s sweet, what does it do?”

Maria squinted at Dr Silverstone, “Can you keep a secret?”

“For centuries,” she said.

“It takes pictures of ghosts. But only if you really believe. Papa said that, but no one believes him,” Maria paused, “Or me.”

Silverstone looked down at her notes, “And a goblin stole it, but a young knight got it back,” she read out loud.

Maria nodded, frowning.

“The knight, was a policemen, though wasn’t he?

“Yes, that’s what mama said too.”

“But, what did you see?”

“A knight,” Maria beamed, “in shining armour on a noble stead.”

“So, a mounted policemen. Tell me what happened.”

“Ok, I was taking photos, trying to catch a ghost,” she smiled at this but the doctor didn’t, so she continued, “He —

“— the thief?”

'“Yes, the goblin, came behind me and snatched it. I screamed, like a damsel in a fairy story and the knight galloped right after him.”

“Was he another little person?” said the doctor her eyebrow raised.

“No, well, um, he wasn’t tall, but not like you. He had no hair, and a crooked nose and funny ears and he was green.”

“Green?” she said, and wrote another note, “Maria, does anyone else see what you see?”

“No,” Maria said with “in trouble” voice and looked at her shoes, she didn’t want to be here anymore. But the words, like big feelings pushed themselves out and did what they wanted.

“Papa said I have magical sight! I see what normal people miss. It’s why he gave me the ghost camera. His favourite,” she held it up as proof.

“I see,” she said and wrote more things. Maria’s head itched and she wished she could see what the doctor was writing down. Her stomach felt like when she ate too much bread. All twisty and sore. This wasn’t going well.

Mama was going to be disappointed, “You didn’t try hard enough,” she’d say. But Maria was trying. Her eyes burned and tears wet her cheeks, “I didn’t mean to runaway. I just wanted to find, Papa.”

“Oh, Maria, you did nothing wrong,” the doctor said and set down her notes.

“I don’t want to be different,” sniffed Maria, looking at her feet, the doctors words merged together as the blood rushed in her ears and Maria realised she’d missed something important.

“— there’s the Truth, and then there’s what we tell normal people like your mother.”

Maria’s gaze snapped up and she stared at the doctor, “I think we have enough for now. You may go outside to your mother.”

Maria headed for the door but glanced back, “Must I try not to see? Is it better if I push it deep down, like missing Papa?”

“No, child,” she said, her eyes sparkling like sapphires, “Just don’t tell Normal People.”

Mama stood up when Maria came out, “How did it go?”

“Good, I think.”

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July Let’s Write Together prompt.