Casting a Different Shadow Part Two

 

 Casting a Different Shadow

Part Two

When we were ten years old we started Fifth Grade and Mrs. Nacaretto was our teacher. That first day of school she told us our homework would be to write a composition entitled “How I Spent my Summer Vacation”. She wrote the words on the board. Shadow and I glanced at each other across the classroom and immediately looked away. How could we ever write a truthful account of what had happened to all of us?

Do you remember why your nickname was Shadow, Benny? Probably. Wasn’t it because of that Saturday night you were sneaking a peak at Bess through the bathroom window and the power went out and the streetlight shining behind you cast your shadow on the door just as my sister reached for it. Man, did she scream.
“A shadow! A shadow! AAAA! A shadow in the bathroom! Get me outta here! Help, help, a shadow! A huge man is trying to break in! MUMMMMY MUMMY MUMMYYYYYYYY!” 

Meanwhile, you ran away as fast as you could and I didn’t find out till the next day that it was only you. I found out when you slyly asked me if anything strange had happened the night before and then turned red.

I’m standing in front of your very luscious and authoritative receptionist in your very grand foyer. She’s sniffing as if there’s a very bad smell coming from my general direction. Her eyes are cold and there’s an absence when you look directly into them. Don’t know how to describe it but it’s as if you’re looking into the shiny, empty glass eyes of a doll. There’s nobody operating that bodacious machinery. Scary.

Shadow and I talked about it as we walked home after the first day of school. I was sure that all she wanted was standard vacation stories like “I climbed three trees and skinned my knees while riding my bike through a big bunch of bees.”

Shadow: “I think we should tell the truth and really flip her out.”
Me : “Naw, are you nuts? No one would ever believe us.”
Shadow : “That’s the best part – everyone would think that we’re premature writers or something.”
Me: “The word is precocious.”
Shadow: “Whatever. We’d get to write a book and go on TV and they would HAVE to make a movie of it. We’d be famous. We’d have it MADE.”
Me: “Let’s try to remember that there are other people involved in this. We could get in big trouble telling stories about what happened to them. Really BIG trouble.”
Shadow: “We just have to tell it from our angle. That’s all. What happened to us and all. Like our, y’know, feelings and such. Then no one could ever give us a hard time if it’s only our story.”
Me: “Now how in bloody hell can we talk about our FEELINGS if we don’t say what happened to make us feel those feelings? Don’t you get it? If we write about our bloody, blasted, damn-it-to-hell FEELINGS we HAVE TO TALK ABOUT WHAT HAPPENED TO JOEY!”
Shadow: “Oh………Um, yeah, right. But couldn’t we just make it out to be a pretend story?”
Me: “Then what’s the point? Let’s just give her the usual shit.”
Shadow: “But, we could get rich with a story like this. I hope you realize what you’re doing by saying no.”
Me: “Probably keeping us alive long enough to grow up.”
Shadow: “Maybe someday……”
Me: “Yeah, right. When we’re really old...like thirty-six or so.”
Shadow: “I’ll forget by then.”
Me: “I’ll never forget.”


So now I’ve been graciously requested to have a seat in the “Lavender Waiting Room” by the mistress of the appointment book. She is ever so discretely spraying an atomizer of citrus-scented odor killer. I think I love the fact that she just doesn’t have a clue about the meaning of life. Actually, I’m having a burning-in–the-gut resentment.

Ah yes, you look like an older and wiser version of yourself as you glide from your office to greet me. It’s funny, but when we were kids and you told me that one day you would rule the world I would shake my head privately in fearful reflection of what you’d be like if you ever had to force your way out of your habitual lethargy and actually commit to an activity. And now, go figure; you almost do rule the world… or at least what seems to be a pretty important part of it.

Shadow: It’s been a while.
Me: Unh huh.
Shadow: Come on in to my palatial office and have a jaw wit’ me, oh solemn soldier of Fortune.
Me: Ok.

I was always the loquacious one. And now we venture across your fancy-smancy designer office and I’m introduced to all your toys and gadgets. And you could probably house an entire Asian nation in this amount of floor space. And who is the athletic-looking blonde standing by the room-size windows looking out over the glorious city?

Shadow: This is Vesta. She helps me in my work.
Me: Uh, I kinda hoped we could talk privately.
Shadow: Anything you can say to me, she can hear. She is the keeper of the secrets.

Later I will realize that I should have paid closer attention to that introduction. It would mean more than it seemed just as Vesta turned out to be exactly who Shadow said she was.  

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 ©Ellen Pepper 2025