9 Glade 121
He smiled at her with a gap in his mouth and a tooth proudly on display.
How old were they? She couldn’t remember off the top of her head, but she knew them to be young. This was a memory, surely. An old, tired memory that she replayed when she felt lonely. Like now. He was holding his tooth out to her, face grimy from their play in the dirt. Their mothers would have fits. But she couldn’t get over the twinge of jealousy, the marvel of the first tooth gone. A little bit of blood at the top of the tooth, a darker red on his gums. But he smiled so big and proud, dark hair framing his then too-round face as cheeks pushed toward his eyes, forcing them into crescent moons of glee. The same glee she shared for the moment before that jealousy took hold.
“You’re a big boy now, huh?”
He puffed out his chest. “Sure am, ma’am.”
“You gonna pray on it?”
“What woul’ I do tha’ for?” He snorted, like some middle-aged man on his way from work ready to spit into the gutter. It was red when it came out.
She shrugged. “That’s what you’re supposed to do. Mama said you’s gotta pray to Malgar to accept the offering of your tooth.”
“Why would he want that?”
“It hurt when it came out, didn’ it?” To Matthias’ shrug, she nodded. “Then you pray and hope he makes the next one less painful.”
Matthias eyed her dubiously, then dropped his attention back to the tooth in his palm. A moment’s suffering for something that would mark the start of change in his life. She wondered if he’d ever thought they’d be in the habit of discussing pain and suffering in the future.
She wondered if he’d even said the prayer that night like she told him to.
Maybe then they wouldn’t be in this mess.
