Kind Hands

“…Nice to see the sun out for a change.”

I’d never been a fan of awkward conversations- I feel like nobody is- but it’s not like they were anything new. Even so, the lack of anything interesting to say began to hang in the air around me as I adjusted the collar of my shirt and ran a hand through my hair for the umpteenth time that morning.

At least the view outside the window was nice: a school playground that had been coated with a fresh layer of frost. It glistened in the light of a low-hanging sun that looked just as unhappy with getting up at this time as I was.

It was just another Wednesday for me, albeit one with a beautiful sunrise. Indeed, the weather was far more striking than what I was used to, particularly for November. It almost made the cursed 5 a.m. alarm worthwhile. The low sun had begun to allow thin shafts of sunlight to break through the blinds of the classroom as well, so that offered me something to look at. Had to be better than continuing with my conversation.

Still, I should’ve been grateful for the opportunity that I was being given at Western Oak Primary. I’d been able to build on what I’d learned in my first year of university and get one step closer to becoming a teacher. The second year had been a drag so far, but these years are all just a means to an end anyway.

My name’s David, by the way; Mr. Bayard to everyone else. Or ‘short arse’. One of the two. ‘A man whose shortness of height was matched only by his shortness of temper’ or something similarly pretentious. Maybe it’s those remarks that make adults so much harder to work with when compared to children.

It's a strange thing to say out loud- may carry some unfortunate implications as well, unfortunately. Maybe it contributed to the awkwardness that I felt in that moment, and many moments before and after this one. Yes, in that colourful room full of numbers, books and hastily scribbled artwork, all I could do was stand there lifelessly and wait for the start of the school day so that I could do… something. Anything, really.

I’m sure that my classroom teacher, Mrs. Stuart- an older woman with grey hair and a sour disposition- knew about my discomfort, yet I suppose this happened so often that she saw it as part of her daily routine. “I know; I do love frosty days like this when the sun’s out but it’s still chilly,” she had replied, just as cold as the weather outside. Her voice had stayed in a neutral state for a while now, going through the motions in a scenario that was painfully frequent.

I was delighted when the late arrival of one of my colleagues gave me something else to think about. She was Ms. Johnson: a larger woman who seemed just as jaded as I was- the difference between me and her was that she could turn her cynicism on and off on the fly, and I’m still not sure how the hell she did it. Regardless of that, she often served as the bad cop in our little ‘good cop; bad cop’ partnership. Apparently, I was too soft for anything else.

“Where the hell have you been?” I casually asked her as she approached, taking off her bag and flinging it into a nearby cupboard.

“Caught in bloody traffic, love. You’d know if you could be arsed to learn to drive.”

Her answer was everything that I expected it to be; she even flashed her middle finger at me for good measure. I couldn’t stop myself from grinning in that moment as I flashed two of my own. I’m sure she saw it- her smile said that much.

A short silence passed us by, after which I asked, “So, what’s on the agenda today, then?” I gave myself a quick stretch in an attempt to get my mind and body into the groove that I’d need for the day ahead.

“Don’t ask me that- you already know what it is. It’s those bastard gingerbread men.”

“Is it actually? Fuck’s sake- I thought that was next week.”

“Language, you two,” came the voice of Mrs. Stuart, calm despite the circumstances. It was the first time I’d seen the old hag smile for… God knows how long. She was certainly happier when Ms. Johnson was around.

But she did have a point; the children were due to arrive any moment now. Surely enough, those who had eaten at the school’s breakfast club arrived moments after our unprofessional exchange. I was made particularly aware of this as the bottom of my vision became filled with the flailing arms of two young girls: Eve and Eva.

The two girls in question were sisters, both of the age of four. They were dressed in identical school uniforms, the frills on their skirts and their dainty socks reaffirming their young age. Over the top of their shirts lay oversized cardigans, haphazardly worn and barely held together, with numerous buttons done up incorrectly or not done up at all. I was all for children doing things themselves, but this wasn’t the first time that they’d looked like this, and it got to me a bit.

Now, as part of my tasks at school, I had to carry out observations of the children in my class. And, when I’d had the task of checking what those two were doing, it was very rare to see one child without the other. Their unusually strong bond and their similar names were the only indications that the pair were even sisters at all; they didn’t look particularly alike.

Eve was the more outgoing of the two, and her features did well to reflect this. Her hair was sleek and black in colour, falling enviously straight. It had a slight natural shine that made it seem thicker than it actually was, all tied together in an artfully messy ponytail that hung down to the base of her neck. Her sharp, blue eyes demanded attention and served to contrast with the onyx of her hair. The blackness of her hair drew in the light and the brightness in her eyes reflected it straight back, causing every shimmer and every shade to at some point pass straight through her.

Compared to the sharpness of her sister, Eva fit more into the category of ‘cute’. Her hair was a much more mellow brown in colour, collected in a relaxed bun that had a habit of falling clumsily over her face whenever she got upset. She seemed to be capable of styling the hair herself, embarrassingly better than I’d ever been able to achieve. The brown of her hair transferred over to her eyes as well. This gave Eva a more neutral colour palette that caused her to blend into the background behind her sister and her more contrasting features. Her amber irises had a magnificent depth to them; always watching- thoroughly observing. I always wondered what she was looking for.

“Morning, Mr. Bayard!” Eve called out to me as she approached. She stretched out her arms in front of her, wordlessly beckoning for a hug, which I happily reciprocated with a quick tender embrace. Eva had lagged behind her sister to the extent that I’d already let Eve go by the time she made it over to me. That didn’t matter to her, though, as she held out her hand expectantly upon reaching me anyway. Once again, I reciprocated and watched as she wordlessly pushed herself into me once her hand was in mine. She gave off a soft hum of presumable contentment as she found comfort in the slightly uncomfortable spot on my left thigh.

When preparing my reply, I knew better than to match Eve’s enthusiasm- certainly at this time of day. Still, I mustered a “Morning, you two,” towards the pair. I’d always envied the ways in which my fellow teachers were able to bring so much emotion into their voices, whereas I had to stick to monotone. It’s always allowed me to be more neutral, I suppose.

I gave Eva’s hair a quick ruffle as she continued to lean on me. She said nothing in return, but her light smile and relaxed posture suggested that she was in good spirits. Even as the other children in the class began to filter in and cause hell to descend around us, the three of us were wrapped in a brief, comfortable silence before Eve decided to interrupt.

“Are we making gingerbread men today?” she questioned. At the mention of this, I felt Eva push away from me, looking up at me with those large, brown eyes. I mean, I didn’t have a choice either way- biscuit making was part of the lesson plan- but I still haven’t worked up the courage to say ‘no’ to those eyes. Every time I look into them, a silent fear reflects back at me. It’s hard to explain.

It was one of those things that just makes you relent, even if you had no desire to do anything close to what they were begging you not to do. I’d always had an urge to look into Eva’s strange behaviours because they didn’t make sense, but that information probably wasn’t for me to know.

Either way, I always had no choice but to bend to their melancholic will. A quick glance to Ms. Johnson- my partner in crime for this activity- showed a woman who looked as if she wanted the ground to swallow her whole. I turned back to the girls before replying.

“How did you remember that and we didn’t?” I wondered aloud, not asking anyone in particular.

“Because I love gingerbread!” Eve answered with a large grin.

“I suppose we can…” I started, slapping one of my fingers against my cheek in an exaggerated display of deep thought. I suppressed a chuckle as I watched Eve lean forward in interest. “But only if me and Ms. Johnson get to eat them all.”

Eve jumped back, almost knocking into another child in the process.

“That’s not fair- they’re mine!”

“They’re everyone’s, Eve. What about your sister?”

“Oh yeah. Sorry, Eva.”

Eve dismissively waved an arm in Eva’s general direction. “Now, come on- let’s make gingerbread men!” She clasped her sister’s hands and began to jump on the spot in an attempt to either make herself more annoying or make her sister more excited. I’d argue that she achieved both, as Eva gave a few enthusiastic nods.

“Yeah,” was all Eva could muster, her voice soft yet resounding and her eyes never leaving her sister’s. From what I’d seen, Eve fulfilled her ‘big sister’ roll nicely. With a spring in her step and outgoing personality, she perfectly complimented Eva’s far more nervous and solitary way of thinking. Eva had a habit of following her sister in her antics when they were left to their own devices. That would be until Eve did something stupid, at which point Eva would often burst into tears and find the nearest adult, like a prisoner turning themselves in. Even though her sister consistently threw her under the bus, Eve continued to drag Eva along on her adventures, and I couldn’t have been happier about that.

Either way, they were a good match for each other. It was interesting how Eve would often refuse to play with any children besides Eva and, in a counterproductive way, I quite liked that. I would never discourage a child from making friends, but Eve had a high social intelligence, so I wasn’t too concerned about her. But more than that, it was clear to see that Eva struggled greatly without her big sister; her communication skills were very limited when her sister wasn’t around.

Still, I had bigger fish to fry, so I clapped my hands together in a bid to psyche myself up.

“Fantastic! We’ll get everybody settled down and then we’ll get started.”

With several sighs and some swearing behind closed doors, the day was quickly completed, and everyone was free to head home. Eve and Eva had moved off as well to their after-school club, the latter of the two needing to be peeled off me. I tried to speak to Ms. Johnson as she recovered from her post-baking daze.

“I don’t know why she still sticks to me like that,” I commented. I knew that it was unprofessional to pick favourites, but I would be lying if I said that my day wasn’t improved by Eva and her sister’s presence.

“You know why- they both adore you,” Ms. Johnson responded as she began collecting her things.

“But I don’t know why they ‘adore’ me, though. I don’t get it- what have I done that you haven’t?”

Ms. Johnson smiled and folded her arms, having seemingly recovered from the trauma of having to carry out the same, thirty-minute baking activity for seven hours. “It’s because you’re too soft with them, Dave. You let them get away with anything.”

I felt a warmth overtake my face as I looked away from my colleague. It took a moment for me to compose myself, but I managed it and turned back to Ms. Johnson to protest. “Have you seen those eyes? Tell me that you can say ‘no’ when you look into them.”

“I can.”

“Well, I bloody can’t.”

I left it at that. Looking back, I don’t know why I sounded so serious while I was explaining myself. But I had- and now I’d accidentally led the conversation into a more uncomfortable territory. Luckily, Ms. Johnson was happy to change the subject.

“You’re working tonight, yeah? Want a lift?”

“Yeah, cheers. There’s no way I’m missing out on £11 an hour.”

During the day, I worked with young children who needed guidance in order to learn how to be good people. During the evenings, however, I had to deal with those who did not learn how to be good people: customers. Specifically, the rude and the ignorant. The twin evils of ridiculous questions and self-entitlement often reared their ugly heads on the shop floor and that never failed to raise my blood pressure.

You would’ve thought that working with literal five-year-olds would’ve been more infuriating than my evening job, but something to remember is that some children just don’t know better. Upon working in a customer-oriented environment, however, it quickly becomes obvious that some people are just irredeemably dense.

Work was never particularly difficult, but people were infuriating to talk to; combine that with my day-job, and I don’t think I ever came home with any social energy left. I communicated with simple ‘hmm’s and ‘uh-huh’s as I moved through my dad’s house.

Even as I lethargically forced my way into the kitchen, my dad was still in pursuit, armed to the teeth with meagre small talk. I found the reason why my dad had persisted with trying to talk to me as I found the source of his pride: a group of yogurt pots that were haphazardly bound with clingfilm.

“I got those for 99p- did you see that?” my dad piped up once I’d closed the fridge. To be honest, I wasn’t interested in what he wanted to say in the slightest, but I decided to humour him and see what all the fuss was about.

“You sound like you’ve scored from the halfway line or summat. But all you’ve actually done is looked like an absolute arse and only saved a quid.”

“It wasn’t my fault. Some teenager who didn’t care about his job at the supermarket ruined a good pack of yogurt and I took advantage.”

I couldn’t help but smile at the genuine pride in my dad’s voice. He’s such an arse.

“…I don’t give a shit about my job either, to be honest-”

“-And it was the deaf woman serving me as well.”

My dad was really piling it on now.

“Were you trying to tell her the correct price?”

And I wasn’t helping.

“She was having a perfectly good conversation with the bloke in front of me, I’ll have you know.”

“Are you sure she’s deaf, then, if she can chat to everyone other than you?”

“She had no bloody clue about half of what he was saying.”

“Well, that’s not that bad if she got the other half of it. Maybe she doesn’t like talking to you.”

“I’m not that unapproachable.”

“Our family doesn’t really have anything to say anyway.”

We carried this mildly offensive conversation on for a short while until I’d had enough, with me announcing my desire to go to bed. My dad was working the following morning, so I wasn’t going to see him until I got back from school. So, I wished him goodnight and disappeared upstairs.

Life wasn’t anything to particularly shout about, but it was comfortable and I was finally getting to where I wanted to be. As I stood in front of my bathroom mirror that night, I stared intently at the man who looked back, noticing a faint shimmer of life and excitement in those blue eyes. Not too long ago I would’ve said something along the lines of ‘I haven’t felt like that for years’.

My thoughts moved from my class to my friends, and then to the advancement of my studies once I finished my second year of university. “One day I’ll stop playing catch-up,” I muttered to himself as I washed my face. I’d worked bloody hard to get to where I was, and I had no interest in making any unnecessary changes in my life. As it turned out, though, the changes in my life were now well outside of my control.

“…The sun’s out again today, isn’t it? We really have been blessed with its presence…”

It was just another Thursday that followed just another Wednesday. Thankfully, I didn’t work on Thursdays, so I was able to savour the sunlight and take a well-earned walk home. I used this extra time to consider my future. It may have been early to think about, but where would I end up going next year? Would the next school give me more opportunities to lead the class? How was I supposed to say goodbye to Eve and Eva? I pondered these questions before being distracted by something.

I hadn’t ventured that far from the school gates before a confrontation caught my eye. Next to a set of berry bushes, Eve was locked in a confrontation with someone who I didn’t recognise. Why she and Eva were on their own while talking to this person was a mystery, as was the identity of this woman. It couldn’t have been the girls’ mother- I knew that for certain- but she didn’t look particularly threatening. That didn’t mean much, though.

The instant my mind processed what was going on, I found an unnatural urge to intervene. Even then, though, I was worried that I was getting into a situation that I didn’t understand and that I was moments away from creating a problem that was far more trouble than it was worth.

In a way, I was right.

But I couldn’t have known that at the time. I approached the confrontation to try and defuse the situation and see what was going on. “Excuse me, madam?” I asked as I approached the trio. “Do you know these two girls?”. I gestured towards the two sisters, who turned in the direction of my voice. Once they saw that the voice belonged to me, they immediately made a retreat, with Eva adopting her usual place at my side.

I grew confused as to why there was a notable lack of any reactions from people in the general vicinity, as this situation began to look more and more like an attempted abduction. I mean, this was happening inches from a school- surely somebody would’ve noticed. Yet, there was no reaction, like it was taking place in front of blind eyes.

The woman before me initially said nothing. Instead, she offered a warm smile and locked eyes with me before simply stating:

“Of course not. I was merely searching for you, young one.”

Her word choice could’ve used some work, but her voice was warm and inviting in ways that I could never describe. As the warmth from her voice and her words washed over me, I became unable to focus on anything else- even as the ground beneath me began to open. It sounds bizarre- and it was. It should’ve been terrifying, even. But the woman’s voice was always there, soothing my mind with its gentle cadence.

I can barely recall the faint cries from those two sisters entering my headspace as we were all forcefully separated. I had no idea what they were saying or how long they spoke for. I’d forgotten their names at that point.

Their voices lingered, disappeared, then reappeared, then disappeared again- but they never fully left my mind- even as I disappeared into the warm light below.