Purple Girl

Disclaimer: I'm not nuts. Really. I swear, when I first looked at this picture that girl had purple hair. She had her hair dyed blue to trick me! ;)

There are no Mulberry trees on Mulberry Lane. It is rumored the first resident, Ashby Howard, didn’t like purple berries staining his veranda, so he had all the trees cut down. In the mid 1800’s, Howard replaced the Mulberry trees with Live Oaks along both sides of the lane leading from the house to the main road. Today, those trees provide a roof of perennial green leaves, shading the entire street and driveway leading up to Howard Hall.

Mulberry Lane is two blocks long, beginning at Maple Grove Road and ending at the locked gates of Howard Hall. Only two other homes, Heritage Place and Gilmore House, were built on Mulberry Lane, each by Ashby Howard’s two sons after they married. Ashby’s granddaughter, Bernice Howard, an eighty year old spinster, lived her entire life in Howard Hall. Heritage Place was sold after Ashby’s death and has been occupied by the Hellerman family for the past forty years. Gilmore House is currently for sale, or it was until yesterday when the Realtor placed a sold sign by the front gate.

Bernice was a hermit. It had been over twenty years since the last time she ventured outside the gates. Visitors were not encouraged. She only left the house to ride her yellow Columbia bicycle to get the mail. The mailbox was a two sided box secured in the fence next to the gates. The mailman opened it from the front, left the mail, and Bernice opened it from the rear to retrieve the mail. She would park her bike, get the mail, and promptly return to the house. However, a particularly warm mid-June day changed her routine.

As Bernice closed the mailbox, a moving van turned into Mulberry Lane. Her curiosity aroused, Bernice watched as the truck came to a stop in front of Gilmore House. A black Mercedes passed the truck and pulled into the drive a little too fast, barely missing a support column, before coming to a quick stop. A woman with long blond hair jumped out of the driver’s side and hurried to the front door. The passenger door opened more slowly, revealing the silhouette of a young girl, possible in her teenage years. When she stepped into the sunlight, Bernice took a step back. Purple hair! The girl had purple hair. Bernice had never seen anything quite like it before. She knew of such things from watching television, but never believed anyone would actually dye their hair such an offensive color. The girl saw Bernice watching, smiled, and waved. Bernice dropped her eyes, turned her bicycle toward home, and pedaled home faster than she had in several years.

After parking the bicycle next to her father’s 1946 Buick Roadster, which was regularly cleaned, but never driven, Bernice went through the rear door of the garage. She bent down to enjoy the fragrance of a tea rose the gardener, Klaus, planted a few weeks ago, and entered the house by way of the kitchen. Bernice ignored Phyllis, who was busy dicing onions to put in a pot of soup. The onions made Bernice's eyes sting. She thumbed through the mail, put the electric bill on the table, the newspaper under her arm, and tossed the rest in the trash can. After pouring a glass of iced tea, she went outside. She took a seat on the veranda, in the wicker chair she hated, but which just happened to provide a clear view of Gilmore House. Bernice told herself she wasn’t being nosy, merely curious.

The movers were busy unloading the truck. Bernice watched a tall man set a chair and side table on the lawn. The chair reminded her of the ultra contemporary chair her niece, Krista, gave her a few years ago for Christmas. Krista thought she was an interior designer. Instead of using the chair in her bedroom as Krista intended, Bernice tucked it away in a rarely occupied guest room. She preferred more comfortable chairs. The purple haired girl reappeared, this time carrying one of those newfangled musical boxes, with headphones over her ears. She plopped down on the ugly chair, her head bouncing up and down, presumably to the beat of the music.

The girl sat cross legged, pulled a book out of her pocket, and settled back to read. Bernice considered reading an odd activity for someone with purple hair. Bernice retired from teaching many years ago, still the teacher in her smiled. She thought kids should read more instead of watching television. Of course the girl was probably reading one of those vampire books the young people were so crazy about these days. Still, she was reading and that was a good thing.

Another car turned onto Mulberry Lane, this one a red convertible. A much older man pulled into the driveway of Gilmore House and parked beside the other car. Bernice assumed he was the girl’s grandfather, until the blond came running out the front door, practically jumping into his arms. The two kissed longer than was appropriate in front of the movers. The girl didn’t look up, and the man didn’t acknowledge the girl. The girl’s stepfather, Bernice surmised. Bernice analyzed the scene before her and decided the blond was a gold digger, who probably married the unsuspecting older man for his money.

The clock on the mantle chimed twelve. It was time for lunch. Bernice and Purple Girl, as she dubbed her, rose simultaneously. Their eyes met. Bernice went inside, while the girl walked toward a bench shaded by a sugar maple tree.

Monday of the following week, promptly at 10:00, Bernice climbed aboard the yellow bicycle for her daily ride to the mailbox. A few wispy clouds dotted an otherwise blue sky. She parked the bike and took a deep breath. The roses were in full bloom. Bernice broke off a pink one, and tucked it in the buttonhole of the white sweater she wore. She inspected a few leaves to make sure there were no aphids, before getting the mail.

As she looked inside the mailbox, she saw a pair of emerald green eyes, surrounded by wisps of purple hair, staring at her. Bernice took a quick step backward, grabbing her throat. Realizing this was the girl from next door, Bernice spoke through the gate, “Look here young lady, I’m an old woman. Are you trying to scare me to death?”

The girl peeked through the bars of the gate. To her credit, she looked embarrassed, “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize––I’m sorry. Are you alright?”

“Other than my heart beating faster than a hummingbird’s wings, I guess I’ll survive. What are you doing down here anyway?”

“I’ve come to see if you really do cast spells on people.”

“I see you’ve been talking to the Hellerman’s brat. If I could cast spells, I would cast one on that little monster.”

“He thinks you can. In fact, he tells me you fly on your broom when the moon is full.”

Bernice reached inside the mailbox and pulled out the newspaper and a catalog, “I do have a broom. It’s made out of straw, but it doesn’t fly. If it did, Micah’s window would be my first stop.”

“So why is he scared of you?”

“Probably because I caught him stealing my garden gnomes. I had six of them over there under that willow tree. I noticed one was missing. The next day, another one was gone. I decided to catch whoever it was, so I hid behind the tree one evening. When I saw the little thief, I reached out and grabbed him by the collar. He screamed like a banshee. I told him those gnomes were really bad little boys I turned to stone. When I let go, he took off faster than a streak of lightening. I haven’t seen him since. Good riddance, I say.”

“Don’t you like kids?”

“I don’t have much use for them.”

“Me, either. Most girls my age are just plain mean. All they want to do is gossip and make fun of anyone that doesn’t fit into their group.” the girl said.

Bernice looked past the purple hair, catching a glimpse of herself at that age. Feeling sympathetic, yet not wanting to become attached to this odd girl, Bernice climbed aboard her bicycle, and said, “Goodbye Purple Girl.”

The girl raised her arm to wave, but Bernice was already halfway up the driveway and didn’t see.

For the next few weeks, each time Bernice opened her mailbox, she saw Purple Girl peering back. Bernice would complain and tell the girl she was a pest. Yet she secretly enjoyed their conversations. Bernice taught Purple Girl about the care of roses, and told her stories about Mulberry Lane and the Howard family. Purple Girl taught Bernice how to operate an ipod, and talked about how much she disliked her new stepfather, and missed her father. Bernice learned Purple Girl’s favorite foods were egg rolls and peanut butter cookies. The two found they had a love of books in common. Even though the girl’s name was Meagan, Bernice vowed to call her Purple Girl as long as she had purple hair. Bernice would never admit it, but she was becoming quite fond of the girl.

It was a Monday morning in early August, August 5^th to be exact, and even though Bernice disliked baking, that morning she baked an entire batch of peanut butter cookies. She wrapped them in red cellophane and placed them in a bag along with a bottle of milk, a bag of egg rolls ordered from China King, and a well read copy of Jane Eyre. It was Purple Girl’s birthday. To mark the occasion, Bernice planned to open the front gate and invite the girl inside for a picnic.

Bernice arrived at the mailbox early, spread a blanket on the ground under a shade tree, and waited for Purple Girl to arrive. As Bernice paced back and forth across the driveway, she thought about how much she looked forward to seeing the girl everyday. On Sundays, she found herself looking forward to Mondays. The bells at St. Barnabus chimed ten, eleven, and then twelve. Bernice waited. Purple Girl didn’t come.

At one o’clock, Bernice paused by the gate. Her eyes searched the grounds of Gilmore House for some sign of movement. She didn't see anyone, not even a groundskeeper. Worried, Bernice placed a quivering hand on the latch. Her heart beat gained momentum. Breathing became difficult over the lump in her throat, while beads of sweat gathered across her brow. She gave the gate a quick tug. It opened.

Bernice stood there, looking at the invisible barrier between her comfort zone and the unknown terror beyond. She lifted her right foot to take a step forward, set it down, and lifted it again. She wanted to know her friend was okay, but her psyche wouldn’t allow her to cross the line. Exasperated, she slammed the gate, packed up the uneaten food, and rode slowly back to the house.

Out on the veranda, Bernice sat down in the chair nearest Gilmore House. Her eyes continued to search for signs of life. There were no cars, and no mother or stepfather. Bernice decided Purple Girl was spending the day with her mother. What better way for a teenager to celebrate her birthday than lunch and shopping. She was just starting to relax when she saw movement in an upstairs window. Surely the girl wasn’t alone on her birthday. Yet there she was, staring down from her window.

Bernice went inside, where she paced from the dining room, through the living room and back to the veranda where she had a good view of the neighboring house. She wondered when she had become so dependent on human contact. There were people in her daily life. Klaus and William were the groundskeepers, Phyllis cooked all her meals, and Peg and Midge cleaned. She talked to these people. Bernice wondered why, after twenty years of self imposed exile, she missed Purple Girl so much, and then she knew. She didn’t just miss taling to the girl, she missed her friend.

The yellow bicycle sped down the driveway. Bernice’s favorite blue scarf flapped in the wind, loosened, and flew through the air like a kite with a broken string, but Bernice didn’t stop to retrieve it. Bernice pedaled faster. When she reached the front gate, she stopped long enough to open the gate. Without considering what she was doing, Bernice got back on her bike and turned toward Gilmore House.

Bernice grabbed the bag of cookies out of the bicycle’s basket, and with the help of a sturdy handrail, made her way up the winding steps to the front door. She rang the bell and waited. She was about to ring the bell again when a young girl with long dark hair opened the door. Bernice couldn’t help but notice her red nose and puffy eyes. The girl reached out and took Bernice’s arm. At first Bernice resisted. At least until she recognized the girl’s smile.

“Meagan? Is that you?”

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