STOIC

TWO

EMMERSON

Emmerson 4

Stoic 10

FOURTEEN YEARS BEFORE THE DINNER

I was a free spirit, a child of nature. I loved playing outdoors, getting my hands in the mud, rolling in the grass, and swimming in the river. We lived far away from the sea, surrounded by trees and nature, misty, mysterious, and a bit cold—but I loved it. I always wore hole-filled pants and a dirty T-shirt, with my dark brown super curly and tangled hair spreading in all possible directions, sweat on my forehead, and a big smile on my face. I spent my days climbing trees, chasing squirrels, and dancing to the sound of my father’s hammer. My dad, along with his lifelong friend, Erik, were blacksmiths and ran a workshop down the main road.

My mother always struggled to teach me things. I didn’t like taking my lessons. I had no idea of what I wanted to be when I grew up, and to be honest, I didn’t care. Any time I could, I’d always run and hide from her.

“For the love of God, girl!” I heard my mom scream at me at the top of her lungs.

I was hiding behind a tree, a big grin on my face, trying hard to hold the laughter back.

“Emmerson Silva! Come here, right this instance!”

I kept quietly giggling.

“Come out, or I’m gonna tell Stoic!”

That did it.

She knew he scared the s**t out of me. I would always do what he asked me to. I didn’t want to get on his wrong side.

I ran straight into my mom’s warm arms. She was truly beautiful. There was no one more beautiful than my mother in our village. My father was so lucky. She had the darkest shade of black skin I had ever seen. She shone! My father, on the other hand, came from a more Caucasian background—short blond hair, pale skin, green eyes, thick beard, funny looking, but strong and kind, as kind as a person could get.

I was the youngest in our family. Three kids, and my mom still looked like a model, flawless. My two older brothers, Kenzo and Ethan, and I would give her a run for her money. We all had light brown skin and wild, curly hair. My brothers’ eyes were a very dark shade of brown like our mom’s, just like a mirror, but not mine. I had light brown with green in them, like my father’s. I really was Daddy’s little girl.

Since my dad and his best friend had known each other ever since they were children, our families were very close. They lived so close we could see their house from ours. I always saw my Uncle Erik and Auntie Ida as my family. They wouldn’t say it out loud, but I knew I was their favorite. They both were redheads and had fair skin, so of course, their son Stoic turned out to be a pale ginger.

Auntie Ida was a very beautiful woman too. Her long, wavy red hair was the envy of the village. She had freckles and pretty light blue eyes. Uncle Erik was a tall, hard man, very strong, like my dad. He was kind, too, but you could see he was also tough. He had long curly hair that reached his shoulders and was slowly turning white, a long beard, and many tattoos. His chest and arms were fully covered with them. He had some on his legs, too. My dad had some on his arms, neck, and chest, but not as many as Uncle Erik.

Stoic took after his father. He was the tallest child his age, over five feet tall. Strong as a bull, but stupid like a rock. Stoic was their only child, and he happened to be just three months younger than my older brother, Kenzo. No surprise, they were best friends. Ethan was only two years younger than them and would always tag along with those two to play. The dynamic trio was the talk of the village.

As my mom started to wrap up the studies for the day, I closed my books and nervously started looking around our front yard. I knew what time it was. Kenzo and Stoic were about to be done with their training for the day, and Stoic would be at my house, staring at me with those scary blue eyes. He always sat next to me, making me feel smaller than I already was, looking down on me with that serious, expressionless, stupid face of his.

He didn’t talk much, but when he did, he asked the most stupid questions and said the most ridiculous things. Stoic always tried to make gotcha questions to see if I had learned my lessons for the day. If I failed, he would look at me like I was a disgraceful bug. No matter what I did, I was always a disgraceful bug to him.

Every day was the same. He made me finish my homework and watched me eat my dinner with his angry blue eyes. He complained if I didn’t finish my food and patted my head if I did. Like a dog. After dinner, he always complained about my appearance. He told me how little girls shouldn’t be this dirty and roughly washed my face with his big hands. Stoic waited for me to be done showering, then pulled my brains out by “brushing my hair,” calling it detangling, and scared the s**t out of me with a Nordic tale before sending me off to sleep. Stoic liked Norse mythology, so he would always read to me about it. From the splendor of Asgard and Valhalla to the darkness and cold of Niflheim where Hel dwelt. He often babbled about the power of Odin and about the exploits of Thor.

He was a major pain, and everything was bad, according to him. He didn’t like me playing outside by myself as he said it was dangerous. “Little girls shouldn’t be climbing trees.” He didn’t like it when I played with my friends. “Little girls should be playing with other little girls.” He hated seeing me full of mud and happiness. “Little girls are supposed to dress pretty, and they should be learning how to be a good woman for their future husband.”

Stupid Stoic. He knew how to kill the fun in everything.

He treated me like a baby, not letting me do anything by myself. His nose all the time stuck deep in my business.

I hated him.

He even cut the food on my plate. “You need to chew smaller bites, or you’ll get a tummy ache.” He was so annoying!

I had always known that I was supposed to get married one day, but Stoic would always remind me. My parents said they had the perfect guy, but I could not care less. I was not supposed to get married until many years from now, so why worry now?

Stoic was the bothersome older brother that I never asked for. Thanks to him, I lost all my friends. He scared them all away with his stupid, ugly face. He was nothing but a bully. I lost count of how many of my friends he grabbed by the neck and tossed away like weightless potatoes. He was so cruel. My mom and dad loved him, though. I didn’t know why.

He was always at my house. Auntie Ida was a nurse, and she was constantly busy since doctors and nurses had to travel to reach the patients. Ida usually returned home very late on weekdays, so Uncle Erik and Ugly Face would dine with us most days.

Tomorrow was my birthday, and Mom was gonna make me my favorite meal. I would be five, and Ethan said that I would love my presents this year. My family would usually get me very useful and pretty things like boots and books, but not Stoic.

His gift would not be a surprise to me. Stoic always brought me the ugliest, saddest-looking dolls you could imagine. He had awful taste. The things had mismatched arms and legs, odd colors, and heads that were too big for their bodies. Who knows what trash can he found them in. I already had four of them. The ugliest bunch of nightmare-worthy toys out there.

Stoic was so predictable. He would always get me ugly rags for my birthday, some weird-looking metal thing for the summer celebration, and something made out of wood for the fall harvest festival. Last summer, I got a weird-shaped metal he called “Jeg elsker deg” or something. He wrote the name on it, so I wouldn’t forget it. He was so weird. For fall, he came home with a swing. He hung it from a nearby tree. Best present so far.

After dinner, I went to clean my hands and face with the devil behind me, watching my every step. He was like a shadow. After my shower, he sat me on the floor between his long legs and began torturing me with the comb.

Stupid Stoic.

My only comfort was that tomorrow, the weekend started. There were no lessons on the weekends. My whole family would do some farming work together in the morning. For the rest of the day, I would get lost in the woods and have fun digging rocks and finding frogs. In the afternoon, we would have my birthday dinner. It would be a great day.

As always, Stoic told me a story before bed. This time it was about how Odin, father of all gods, got wiser by drinking out of tree horns.

How could drinking out of a horn make you wiser? Stupid Stoic with his silly stories.

He covered my little body with my blanket and harshly patted my head. After he closed the door behind him, my room was finally filled with darkness. I closed my eyes and dreamed of the awesome day that awaited me tomorrow.

I couldn’t wait!