Generous Spirit

Amber and the other girls laughed at Sara Perkus. Sara was a tall, gawky girl with big eyes and messy hair.

“You look like a fucking bag lady, Sara.”

She hunched forward and walked faster. Ceciley chimed in: “Run lil bitch, get your skinny ass back to the homeless shelter!”

“I bet your mom died of shame from looking at you.” Amber Quinn shouted. The other girls went silent and stared at her open mouthed.

Sara felt the tears sting her eyes. She ran, leaving the girls far behind. The path she walked from school to home fell away beneath her pounding feet. When she got to the pine woods she ran off the path and fell sobbing into the pine needles. Her lungs burned. The spring air was warm.

Being made fun of she could handle. She had endured some pretty harsh teasing over the years. But when Amber talked about Mama something inside her broke. She rolled on the ground shrieking in elemental agony. Images bombarded her mind. When Mama and she would bake cookies and knit and watch soap operas. Warm, gentle, soft images. Images that would fade with time and never come again.

Sara screamed herself hoarse on the forest floor. She pulled out a handkerchief and blew her nose. Sitting cross legged in the leaf litter she stared at the sun dancing through the needles in the trees until the shadows grew long.

She lifted herself up and stretched. Composed once again like a strange clockwork creature that ran on grief she trudged back to the house, exhausted. This house and her memories were all she had left of Eve Perkus, her mother and best friend. The house smelled of disinfectant. She had removed the hospital bed where mom had spent her last months in the house after Eve had been moved to hospice where the cancer and the morphine conspired to end her life.

Sara sat down at the kitchen table and pulled out her knitting needles. She relaxed into the rhythmic clacking of the work, making... something. She wasn't sure what. The project, like her life, felt odd and directionless without Mama at home. The sun went down and she turned on the light, warmed a plate of fried chicken. She wondered why people always brought fried chicken when someone died. It seemed a strange custom. But she was grateful that Myrtle and the ladies from the hospital where Mama had worked were thoughtful enough to bring the food. She didn't feel much like cooking. Everyone thought she was crazy for going to school so quickly after the end. Sara wanted to graduate and get going with her plans... at least she thought she did. Grief seemed like a great dark undertow that threatened to overwhelm her and take her down.

Sara tossed the chicken bones into the garbage and then nibbled on a chocolate chip cookie. She bit off a big chunk with a frown. “Fuck... I hate Amber. Why does she have to be so damned mean?”

Somewhere in her mind, she heard Mama's voice answer: “Sometimes people are mean because they are hurting so bad and they want everyone around them to suffer like they do. I see it everyday at the hospital. The best you can do, darling, is just wish them well and get on with your life. It's not worth taking their words to heart. Life's too short, angel.”

She dropped the cookie on the floor and wept again. Her mother had never been a big woman and cancer had diminished her further. Chemo and radiation therapy had not been kind. She cried again and then pulled herself together. She kept exploding and reassembling herself. Cleaning up the cookie. She did her homework and then plopped on the couch and watched an anime until she felt sleepy. She snuggled down into the cushions and the afghan and prayed that everything would be alright.

Amber Quinn flitted into her consciousness. She asked God to bless Amber and help her not hurt so much just before Sara drifted off to sleep.



Amber was running that morning. Her trainers beat a steady rhythm on the pavement as hard driving music urged her onward. Her thoughts drifted to Thom Markel. He had claimed she slept with him yesterday. Told all his friends that their date had not in fact ended with her escaping his boring tirades about the various sports teams he loved, but had ended with a night of sweaty fictional sex in the back of his car.

She had vented her rage on the gangly bird girl with the funny name. Perkus. That was it. Amber was under tremendous pressure from her parents to succeed and do well in school. Do more extracurriculars. Get better grades. She knew she ought to feel bad for being so cruel to Perkus the orphan but... part of her, a bigger part was glad that she did it. The girl was pathetic. Dressed like a scarecrow from the 1980's and her hair always looked a mess. How the hell could she live with herself? Shouldn't she have aimed her rage at Thom? Was it right to attack that poor thing?

The other girls were doing it. It felt good and right at that moment... Now she felt a little guilty. Why should she though? The girl was weak and vulnerable and Amber despised that. It made her think of her own failings and vulnerabilities. She wanted to kill the messenger. Erase the Perkus girl from her life so that she wouldn't have to feel those things. If she could make the light leave those big stupid eyes and watch the scrawny body curl up like a pale, dead spider it would somehow elevate her above the muck of pain, unfulfilled desire, mortality, and suffering.

A tiny part of her was appalled at these thoughts, but it made a strange horrid sense. The rich hate the poor because it reminds them of what they might be if luck turned. Then again, maybe it wasn't luck. The rich, the beautiful, the powerful, the popular perhaps God had blessed them. If God loved them so much mightn't he hate the ones he hadn't blessed? He hadn't given the poor and the weak advantages.

Mom and Dad always said that hard work and the Lord's blessings made their lives wonderful. No matter how hard that poor pitiful creature Perkus worked she was forever beyond God's grace. Amber felt better as she ran on. Torturing the poor bitch was a mercy. Maybe Perkus would just kill herself and do the world a favor. Spare her betters the bother of looking at that pathetic mess.

Mom had always talked about the Meritocracy. Success comes to those who deserve it. You had to choose your friends wisely. Otherwise the Perkuses of the world might drag you down to their level.

Amber started to sprint. It was a good run. She had to take care of herself. A fierce painful joy seized her heart as an image of Perkus crumbling to ashes and dust and vanishing from the beautiful world danced in her mind's eye. One less ugly, pathetic bitch.

The truck sped out of control hitting Amber. She felt the tremendous impact shatter her femurs and pelvis. The world blurred as the flew through the air, landing with a sickening crunch in her ribs and spine. Breathing hurt. Her chin was wet. Her jaws and teeth hurt. The music kept playing. She tried to get up but her body wouldn't respond. Everything hurt. Everything was heavy. Her vision blurred. A sticky bubble popped on her lips.

“Meritocracy...” was the last word her mind formed before her awareness faded.

Sara wore a black dress to Amber's funeral. The Quinns had spared no expense laying their beloved daughter to rest. A team of white horses pulled a white and gold detailed glass hearse to the grave site. Amber's casket was a beautiful white metal with silver handles. The chapel had been full of flowers.
Cecily had given a heartfelt speech, even though she looked worn out and haggard. Mr. and Mrs. Quinn were robotic. Holding themselves together as best they could while gazing out of hollow, haunted eyes as their only daughter was born toward her final resting place. Sara felt for them. She missed her mom. They must have a hole in their hearts where Amber had fit. Sara decided that Amber hadn't meant to be cruel that day. She must have been upset.
Everyone was saying how sweet and kind Amber Quinn had been. They spoke of her. Her loving, kind, and generous spirit. How she had raised money for food banks and had created so much good in her short life.
It was so unfair! Good and kind people like her mom and Amber had to be taken from this life. But maybe that's the lesson. Do as much good as you can in the time you have. Sara walked among the tombstones after the funeral. She needed to be more kind, more gentle, and more generous just like Amber.