Birthday for Evie: A Short Story

By Anna Forbes

Evie scrambled into her car-seat and reached for the seatbelt, but Dad found it first and winked as he handed it to her. She had been excited for this all week. Dad was taking us to the park for her eighth birthday. This would be the best part of her day. Evie loved to be outside so much more than inside. The indoors made her think of the dreaded school and books. Evie had moved to the first grade this year after two years of kindergarten, lots of testing and special tutors. She was one of the oldest in her class, but by far the smallest.
We arrived at the park, and I hopped out into the cold wind. I zipped up my jacket and waited for Dad to help Evie with hers.
“Look up, Evie. We don’t want your chin to catch in the zipper.”
Evie always got her chin caught in the zipper, and it always left a mark. She ran ahead of us to the playground, but paused several times to make sure we were still coming. Her small, delicate face lit up as she pumped her frail legs to swing. Something in her eyes seemed hollow. Her bobbed hair whipped across her face in the strong wind. Evie was blissful. She didn’t have to think or talk. She could just enjoy the simple moment all by herself. I often wished she would take me with her to the places in her mind.
Dad and I watched her for a minute, and then he suggested we race. He knew how I loved to run and that I loved racing against him. I secretly knew he could win, but I always said I would out-run him one day. I bent over and set my fingers in the cold grass, ready for the signal. Dad crouched next to me, and I prepared myself for his pranks. He said “Go!” and my legs flew, two strides for every one of his. Tears streamed down my cheeks as my eyes reacted to the rush of cold wind. He let me get ahead of him, but I knew what was coming. His fingers gripped my waist, and we fell to the ground in a mound of bulky coats and laughter.
Catching our breath, we sat up to see Evie standing on the edge of the sand, with her hands on her hips and disappointment written across her face. Dad knew she felt left out, so we challenged her to a race. We took off running to the other end of the field. Soon I was leading with no one behind me. I stopped and turned to see where everyone had gone.
A look of horror covered Evie’s face. Those once hollow eyes were now filled with fear and confusion. I quickly understood the situation. Her delicate frame couldn’t run against the wind, and the harder she ran, the more she was blown back. Seeing us fade farther away was more than she could handle. She couldn’t understand why she was being abandoned, and she screamed because she didn’t know what else to do. She wasn’t fast enough to catch us, but to turn around would be going farther away from us.
Dad ran to her and knelt down so his eyes were looking straight into hers. His thumb wiped her tears away, and he scooped her into his strong arms and carried her to the car.
I slowly walked back, wishing Evie was normal. Then everyday things like footraces wouldn’t be turned into disasters. I sat next to her in the car and watched her sad face. Tears clouded her eyes until she went to sleep; then her nap was interrupted only by a hiccup and a sigh. She had looked so helpless and vulnerable out there on the field. I thought about the world from her perspective: cold and unforgiving, with no one to understand.
No one but Dad. He was her rescuer. He had protected her from so much and had never spoken a word of disapproval or frustration. He did that for both of us, and we loved him.