The water in the gutter sounded like the insistent drumming of a toddler with a new toy. Haley turned her head and sneered disdainfully at the window next to her bed, where streams of water trickled down, reflecting the lights from her neighbor’s garage.
Mr. Tidwell installed security lights six months ago, two very large and bright silver bullet-shaped fixtures, that the local cats and teenagers seemed to set off on their nightly prowls. Haley hated the things, mostly because they made it difficult for her to sleep.
The lights also reminded her that she was stuck in bed, by day as well as at night, healing from injuries after being hit by a car three months ago. First there was the hospital stay, then a short time in a nursing home before being sent back home where her parents nursed her as she lay in a hospital bed in a body cast.
Piles of DVD’s and books were strewn around her room, diversions brought to her like offerings at an altar. Haley could see the lights blinking on her sleeping laptop across the room and the amber “off” light on the TV set her father had bought her to keep her amused.
But despite the fact that she was bored out of her mind some days, tonight she felt excited.
Tomorrow was her birthday. She would be fourteen, and although she wished she was going to be sixteen, fourteen was better than thirteen and certainly much better than eleven, which was how old her brother Trent was. Eleven year olds were such babies. Haley was glad to have that behind her.
Fourteen is more elegant, she thought, staring up at the ceiling. In the news last week there was a fourteen year old who won a local regatta, sailing by himself and beating some adult sailors. Haley felt a thrill when she heard that. She was crossing the threshold to an age where adults would take her more seriously. At least she hoped that was true.
“Haley,” a voice at the door said softly. It was her mother. “Are you still awake?”
“Yes.”
“Do you want anything?”
“No, thanks.”
Her mother came into the room anyway, stood by the bed and tucked the blankets in around Haley for a second time. She squinted. “I don’t see how you can sleep with those lights Mr. Tidwell has up. Your father will have to talk to him.”
“It’s not the lights keeping me up.”
“No? What is it then?”
“Mom, remember when we went on vacation and we found that old church at the top of the mountain? The one that was all covered up with vines and we thought no one knew it was there?”
“I remember.”
“But then we went inside and there was a priest lighting candles and getting things ready for Mass? Even though the church seemed to be in the middle of nowhere?”
Her mother nodded.
“Sometimes when I’m laying here, I feel like that church,” Haley said. “I hear people walking by outside and see the lights go on next door, but it’s like I’m hidden and no one knows I’m here.”
“We know you’re here, “ her mom said. “Besides, Haley, you’ll be better soon and back at school with your friends.”
“I know, Mom, but what I’m trying to say is that, in some ways, it’s a good thing to be like that church. I get bored sometimes but – it’s like I have time to get myself ready.”
“Ready for what?” her mom asked.
Haley shrugged. “Life. I don’t know. I just keep remembering how it felt to go into that church and see all those candles being lit. Like that priest just kept everything ready for everyone. You know?”
“I think you should be getting ready for your birthday,” her mom said. She touched Haley’s forehead. “I hope you’re not getting a fever.”
“I’m fine, Mom.”
“Well, goodnight then, Haley.”
“Goodnight, Mom.”
So much for adults taking her more seriously, Haley thought. She closed her eyes. She could see the rows of red candles in the church now, lit one by one by the priest. The inside of the church brightened and the deep colors of the stained glass windows came to life – the blues of the Virgin Mary’s robes, the golden halos of the saints. It was like watching the church come alive slowly, each window’s image illuminated, its story waiting to be told. The mystery behind each one hung in the air of the old church, palpable and resonant.
She fell asleep to a kaleidoscope of the stained glass windows of the old church swirling around in her memory.
When she awoke the next morning, someone had tied a Happy Birthday balloon to the rail of her hospital bed. Haley looked up at its colors and smiled, remembering.
She was fourteen now.
And she knew it was going to be an elegant year.
Copyright 2007 Ruth Harrigan
