OLIVIA ZAMORA

A scrape marked her niece’s knee. 

It was the first thing Mara noticed when she arrived at her sister’s house. But her niece, Eira, didn’t seem to care. Her hands were covered in chalk from spending the day colouring the driveway with fairies and butterflies, and her fringe was pinned to the side by a collection of sparkly clips. A scraped knee was the least of her worries. Especially not when she heard her aunt’s car engine shutting off across the street. Instinct took over, and Eira abandoned the yellow chalk stick in her hand, darting across the road. 

‘Auntie Mara!’ Eira squealed, jumping onto the tips of her toes to try and get closer to her aunt. But, as Mara gathered her niece into her arms, pressing lots of little kisses to her face, her eyes searched the front yard. Neither her sister nor her brother-in-law were in sight; the garden was empty, and the only sound was the soft clatter of chalk rolling down the asphalt. Mara wished her sister wouldn’t let Eira play out front. 

In her arms, Eira giggled and shrieked at her aunt’s kisses, and only quieted when Mara brought her fingertips down to Eira’s curls. She brushed her coiled tendrils to the side, trying to tuck them back into her niece’s pigtails. 

‘Hi, sweet girl,’ she smiled. ‘I missed you.’

Eira’s eyes turned dazzling, and she squeaked a quick ‘I missed you too’ before seizing Mara by the hand and dragging her to the butterfly-covered driveway. 

‘I think we should colour together!’ Eira declared. ‘And then we should eat ice cream and watch Barbie and – Oh! We should have a tea party! And–’

‘Eira…’ a familiar voice sang from the front porch. Mara’s sister stood there with a hand on her hip and a tea towel draped over her shoulder. ‘Why don’t you let Auntie Mara come inside and you can go help Dad set the table?’

Eira let out a short whine. Her little hand tugged at Mara’s as she tried to devise an excuse for her mum and more ideas for her aunt. When she couldn’t choose the right idea amongst the sea of many, Eira let out a great sigh before stomping up the porch steps and into the house. 

Once Eira was out of earshot, Mara climbed the steps and pulled her sister close. Being able to hold and be held by her sister felt like being able to breathe again. After their parent’s passing, Nadia and little Eira were all she had left. 

‘Eira’s gotten taller.’

‘She’s gotten cheekier too. Did you see her fringe? She claimed the scissors flew into her hair but for some reason, I don’t buy it,’ Nadia rolled her eyes, kissed her sister’s cheek, and brushed some of the humidity from her temples. ‘Eira’s insisted on eating dinner in the garden tonight, so you may as well enjoy some of the air conditioning while you can – come on.’

‘Is that your way of saying “I’ve missed you”?’ Mara laughed. 

Nadia snickered as she led them into the living room, ‘No, it’s my way of saying that it’s hot and I have things to do,’ she smiled, turned, and gripped Mara’s hand softly. ‘But, yes, I have missed you.’

Mara didn’t have the time to echo her sister’s sentiments, and she hoped that Nadia was able to read it on her face before her eyes fixed on the open backyard doors where only her husband was seen setting the table. She dropped Mara’s hand as though she had forgotten it was there and yelled out to her husband, asking him where their daughter was. 

‘She wanted to show Mara something,’ he shrugged, balancing an armful of hand-painted ceramic plates they had inherited from the sisters’ late parents. 

Nadia began to say something but as quickly as she started, Eira’s voice chimed behind them.

‘Ta-da!’ 

Mara spun to find her niece stood like a starfish, fingers splayed as far as they could go, grin so wide it bared a loose canine tooth that looked to be on its last thread. And there, swallowing her whole in blue and white checkered stripes, was her new school uniform. 

Eira’s smile twitched into the apples of her cheeks as she awaited her aunt’s reaction, dress flapping awkwardly around the middle of her shins. 

Mara shifted as she forced a grin. 

‘Wow…’ she squeaked out, voice so impossibly high that it was like someone else’s entirely. ‘Wow, you look so… grown up!’

Eira squealed with delight and began to twirl and tell her aunt all about the school she’d be starting at in a week – its metal benches, and sandpit, and a canteen with strawberry-shaped frozen jellies, and the pineapple ones too – Mara didn’t have to listen to her niece to be able to see it in her mind. More real than a memory. 

‘That sounds nice,’ Mara’s voice said. 

After a stubborn tussle between mother and daughter over Eira’s school dress, dinner began with Eira chattering endlessly, still in her uniform, and with a fork clutched in her fist. Grilled vegetables, sausages, and steak sat on their dishes in the centre of the table, and Nadia kept waving her hand over them to keep the flies away. Mara smiled when it was expected of her. She nodded when her sister addressed her, and laughed when her niece made a joke. 

Fork tearing into a cut of steak; Mara nodded as Eira created a fantasy of what her classes would be like. It was sweet. Full of puzzles, stories, and plastic playgrounds. She wondered if she would get to play dress-up at school as well – and wondered if they’d have princess costumes. Mara tried to focus on her niece, but all she felt were beads of sweat licking down her neck.

Over and over and over and…

Eira’s voice broke against the air – pitched and bright.

‘Auntie Mara, what was your favourite class in school?’

Mara hadn’t been listening all that well. She had been moving around a piece of corn over a plate she had painted years ago. An image of her childhood home, with her parents, Nadia and herself sitting in the garden. With all of Eira’s chattering, she hadn’t expected a direct question. And it startled her away from her memories of her parents, peaches, and sweet herbal teas. 

Nadia, who hardly noticed her sister’s distraction, asked, ‘It was art, wasn’t it? You had that kindergarten teacher. Mr Lane? He always let you pick your paints or crayons first.’

When Mara didn’t answer, Nadia began to tell Eira all about Mr. Lane. How he was the kindest teacher in the school and how he had a collection of sweets – lollipops, orange sherberts, grape-flavoured candies – anything you could imagine in a jar under his desk. Everybody loved him. 

‘...Isn’t that right, Mara?’

Mara forced herself to chew through a piece of tough bristle, ‘Pardon?’

‘Auntie Mara is spacey like an astronaut,’ Eira giggled, kicking her feet above the ground. Her cheeks were painted with tomato sauce, and some barbeque. Despite it, she pulled away from every one of her father’s attempts to clean her face with a napkin, instead gripping her glass of lemonade with both hands and spilling it over her chin as she took great gulps. 

When the night turned dark, Nadia decided it was time to head in for dessert and bed. Eira made Mara watch a movie with her, but Mara was unable to focus on the TV, distracted as vanilla ice cream dribbled down her niece’s chin onto her school dress. The ice cream sunk into the blue and white fabric, disappearing amongst the plaid. 

It was only when Eira fell asleep against Mara’s lap that she was taken to bed. The uniform carefully stripped from her arms and taken to be washed. 

It was a habit, Mara found, to follow her sister into the kitchen to help with the washing up. There were no words that needed to be exchanged. Just the electric thrum of the fridge and the sound of clinking of dishes. Mara scrubbed at a single plate, hands reddened by the hot water, nails scraping against ceramic. Beside her, Nadia hummed. 

‘You’ve been quiet tonight,’ Nadia said without looking at her. ‘Is everything okay?’

‘I’m fine,’ Mara said, trying to scratch away at a small imperfection. 

Nadia frowned, and when she saw the steam rising from the sink, she gave a great gasp and turned off the hot water. 

‘Mara…’ she murmured. Her hands pulled her sister’s from the sink, cradling their shaky and reddened fingers in her palms. Nadia’s voice came gentle and firm, ‘Tell me what’s wrong. If it’s about mum and dad passing, maybe I can help you?’

But Mara couldn’t find it within her to speak, her voice felt clutched by some unseen grip. And she heard the oh-so-familiar voice in her head telling her to be quiet. Be really quiet. 

But her sister’s eyes were wide, her hands soft, and as Mara caught sight of a pair of shiny new Mary Janes on the kitchen stool, a strangled cry broke from her throat. Nadia cooed and swaddled Mara against her chest. 

‘Whatever it is, just tell me,’ she said. ‘Just tell me and I’ll be here. You’re not alone.’

Nadia’s hands found their way to Mara’s hair, fingertips dancing through the strands as though guided by an unsung lullaby. It was a familiar rhythm – soft, gentle, and lilting. The same their mother used to sing to chase away bad dreams. 

‘I’m scared,’ Mara muttered, sniffling into her sister’s shoulder. ‘I’m scared of Eira going to school. She’s so little…’

Nadia let out a small laugh. 

‘Is that what this is about?’ She asked. ‘Oh, sweetie, we’re all scared! But she’ll be fine! She’ll make friends and –’

‘No… no, I’m not–’ Mara took a deep breath and shook her head. ‘I’m scared that she won’t be safe. I’m scared that someone will hurt her…’

The arms cradling Mara loosened their grip. Nadia pulled away, shaking her head.

‘I don’t understand. What are you trying to say?’

‘I’m –’ Mara choked on a hiccup and tried to shove the tears from her face. ‘Mr Lane,’ she said finally, his name like soap in her mouth, ‘He touched me.’

The sink faucet dripped, the sound cutting heavy through the air.

Drip.

Drip. 

Drip.

Finally, Nadia said, ‘You were just a child… Maybe you’re not remembering it right.’

In an instant, Mara began to choke on the air lodged in her throat.

‘You were young. And… well, you always had a vivid imagination, remember? You used to come home and tell Mum and Dad that a wolf used to follow and bite you in the playground. Maybe you imagined something –’

‘I’m not–’ Mara gasped, gagging on the hot tears that stuffed her mouth. ‘What are you saying? That you don’t believe me?’

‘No! I just –’ Nadia said, her voice wavering as she looked down the hall where her daughter lay sleeping. ‘I’m just saying… if something happened to you… we would’ve noticed …’

Her words were drowned by the air as Nadia continued to speak. All Mara could think about was that single word. Only one syllable. And yet she couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t hear or see. She could only manage three single words. 

‘I was five.’

Nadia cringed and clamped her eyes shut. 

‘... Eira’s smart,’ she said with a tone of finality, avoiding Mara’s eyes. ‘You don’t have to worry about her getting into that situation.’ 

As Nadia left to check on her daughter, Mara tried to smother her cries. Despite it all – despite every sign – Nadia still didn’t see her. The carpet burns from being forced to her knees, the constant tummy aches, the bladder and tonsil infections that just wouldn’t go away, the creased shoes as though she spent her life praying…

Her school uniform, stained and worn.