Elephant
By: Rebecca Costello

Muted sunlight pushes through the dusty window, struggling to find a place to rest. An opening door scatters the beams, casting a shadow on the smallest table where a tiny girl sits. I’m told she’s sat at that table for three years. I am the first to see her there. My heart shatters for not knowing her until now. I follow her gaze to a bookshelf across from her. It is crowded with children’s books and childish games. She stares for the sake of staring, completely uninterested in the view.

I’m too young to be a mother, I think. All the paperwork has gone through and I no longer have a choice. Long dark curls cover the girl’s nametag. “I’m Bridget,” I say. The girl looks up. I look down. Her small face, framed by sunlight, is blank. I’m still standing in the doorway. I hesitate to speak, worried about saying something that will upset her. If she doesn’t like me, will they change their minds? My mother was nineteen. I am just four years older.

“Alyssa,” the girl finally says, pulling at the chair next to her. As I sit, she stands and moves away. Frustrated at my failing attempts, I stand to go after her. “No, no,” says Alyssa. “Just wait.” She goes over to a bookcase, one of many lining the room, and pulls out a box. The faded maroon color almost masks the only slightly brighter word “Scrabble.” I study her as she sets up the board and carefully counts out seven squares for each of us. Her sweater is too big, her sneakers are doodled on, her nail polish is barely there. Her face is reserved, while her eyes, her wandering eyes, make her so vulnerable. She looks anywhere but at me. I try to compare her to myself, but she continues to avoid my gaze.

Alyssa scrutinizes her tiles, concentrating. A minute passes. She lays her first word on the board: P-L-A-N. Her gray eyes move their stare to me; I wanted this, but now it only scares me. Her nose is mine, I see it now. I wonder at her mouth; it must belong to her mother. I’ll never know. The “L” on the board jumps out at me. Flicking back and forth between the board and my tiles, I can’t believe my luck. I place my own letter carefully, trying to have as much concentration as my opponent. Alyssa looks down at the word, E-L-E-P-H-A-N-T. Triple word score. She smiles for the first time. My heart constricts at the sight of my father’s face, at the smile I haven’t seen in almost a year. Alyssa is his copy in every way except for the secrets that he kept for so long.