Inspiring and Entertaining Writing - Writers International

Leo
by Elizabeth Braden

I am sitting on a park bench, eating my lunch, when Leo comes and sits next to me. She doesn't say anything, just sits there, looking down at her feet.
"How are you today?" I ask. She doesn't answer. I don't think she trusts me to be honest with her, so why should she be honest with me?
"Would you like some ice-cream?" I ask. To my surprise, she nods. A slow, cautious sort of nod, but a nod all the same. I take her hand, and she snatches it back, glaring at me.
"Why do you hate me so much?" I ask. She doesn't answer. I get up and walk away, leaving her on that bench.

A few days later I am laying in bed reading my book. Leo comes in and sits on my bed. She just sits there quietly, not speaking, not moving. I look up from my book.
"Why do you have to be so bloody miserable?" I ask. She doesn't answer. Never has. So I go on reading my book, and she goes on sitting there, looking at her feet. I look up again. I look at her feet too.
"Nice shoes," I say. She bends down and pulls them off, then tosses them into the next room. I just shake my head resignedly, then go back to my book.

I am in my brother's room. He is out, so I use his computer. After a while Leo comes in. She sits on his bed, not moving, not speaking. I turn the computer off, and decide to try a different approach.
"Want to play a game?" I ask. She looks at me. I can tell what sort of game she is thinking of.
"Lego?" I suggest. Leo likes to be creative and independent. I sit on the floor and pull the Lego drawer out. I begin to make a model. Leo comes and sits next to me. She picks up a piece and hands it to me. I don't bother with all the usual patronising crap of asking her where this piece goes. She is too smart for that. So I take the piece and put it on the model. Encouraged, she hands me another piece. We are one, Leo and I, so I don't need to ask her for the pieces. She knows which pieces I need now and which I'll need later.

The model is complete. I hold it up, and triumphantly state, "we did it! We did it together!" It is then that I hear the sweetest sound. Laughter. Leo is laughing. She stops laughing, looks me in the eye, and for the first time, she speaks.
"Can I call you Mum?"


S T O R I E S A N D P O E M S W R I T T E N B Y R E A L P E O P L E WRITERS INTERNATIONAL
About / More from this author	Contact the author / Give feedback	Back to main page	Contact Us
Leo by Elizabeth Braden I am sitting on a park bench, eating my lunch, when Leo comes and sits next to me. She doesn't say anything, just sits there, looking down at her feet. "How are you today?" I ask. She doesn't answer. I don't think she trusts me to be honest with her, so why should she be honest with me? "Would you like some ice-cream?" I ask. To my surprise, she nods. A slow, cautious sort of nod, but a nod all the same. I take her hand, and she snatches it back, glaring at me. "Why do you hate me so much?" I ask. She doesn't answer. I get up and walk away, leaving her on that bench. A few days later I am laying in bed reading my book. Leo comes in and sits on my bed. She just sits there quietly, not speaking, not moving. I look up from my book. "Why do you have to be so bloody miserable?" I ask. She doesn't answer. Never has. So I go on reading my book, and she goes on sitting there, looking at her feet. I look up again. I look at her feet too. "Nice shoes," I say. She bends down and pulls them off, then tosses them into the next room. I just shake my head resignedly, then go back to my book. I am in my brother's room. He is out, so I use his computer. After a while Leo comes in. She sits on his bed, not moving, not speaking. I turn the computer off, and decide to try a different approach. "Want to play a game?" I ask. She looks at me. I can tell what sort of game she is thinking of. "Lego?" I suggest. Leo likes to be creative and independent. I sit on the floor and pull the Lego drawer out. I begin to make a model. Leo comes and sits next to me. She picks up a piece and hands it to me. I don't bother with all the usual patronising crap of asking her where this piece goes. She is too smart for that. So I take the piece and put it on the model. Encouraged, she hands me another piece. We are one, Leo and I, so I don't need to ask her for the pieces. She knows which pieces I need now and which I'll need later. The model is complete. I hold it up, and triumphantly state, "we did it! We did it together!" It is then that I hear the sweetest sound. Laughter. Leo is laughing. She stops laughing, looks me in the eye, and for the first time, she speaks. "Can I call you Mum?"
A note from the author I wrote this story as part of my healing journey. I was sexually abused as a child, and I believe that the part of me who never got to be a child is still inside somewhere. In the past, my counsellor has referred to this as the 'inner child'. 'Leo' is a story about finding that missing part of me, and learning to work with it.