Her Eyes (picture narrative) //Mikayla Bivona

 

In Honors English 9, Mrs. Brennan would put an influential photo on the board without giving us any background information, and then had us write a narrative about said picture.

I looked onto Time Magazines "The Most Influential Images of All Time" and chose this picture.

~~~~

People often wonder what our thoughts were when we were falling. I hear it in their thoughts at ground zero all the time. I don't really leave here, we all had the choice to, but I'm one of the few that stayed. We all wander around, watching peoples sorrow and listening to their thoughts. Especially when they're in the museum. There's a section of it showing a video of me falling. It's sad, I see people crying over me everyday... and they don't even know me. And every time, everyone wonders, "What were they thinking about?" 

I thought about eyes. 

The previous morning, my wife and I went to the doctor to learn the gender of our baby. Great news, my wife was having a girl. After that I had driven her to go get some Wendy's-- french fries and chicken fingers dipped in frosty was constantly her craving... I still laugh when I think about it. She would grab my arm and grip it so hard that I thought I would lose circulation in my hand, and she would quietly ask, "Wendy's? Pretty please?" I would look over, into her eyes, laugh and say, "I don't have choice do I?" As I pulled into the parking lot. 

Her eyes. 

They were the reason I fell in love with her.

~~~

When I first met her I was living in the apartment above hers. The only thing I knew about her was that she played this loud, heavy metal music. I seemed to be the only one in the building that didn't mind it. 

Except one day, when the girl downstairs was playing Metallica's, Master of Puppets relatively louder than usual. The little old lady next door, Mrs. Hackett, was walking down the hallway. I could always tell when she was going somewhere because I heard the slow shuffle of her walking toward the elevator. And every time I would hear that, I knew it was my cue to go out and assist her in walking down the hall. 

I opened the door stepping out into the hall, "Hello Mrs. Hackett! Where to today?" 

"Downstairs to tell that silly girl that some people are trying to sleep." I glanced at my watch, it was 4:23 p.m. 

"Oh no worries. No no, you go back to her room. I'll talk to her." 

She looked up at me, I towered over her 4'10 petite frame, "Oh! You are just the sweetest. Thank you honey." And with that, she shuffled back to her room. 

After making sure she was safe in her room, I headed downstairs. I had no trouble finding the room she was staying in. I knocked on the door, and when I realized that she probably wouldn't hear that, I banged on the door, hoping not to break the old wood. I heard the music turn down, and suddenly a young woman--maybe a few years younger than me-- stood in front of me. She was tall, about my height, maybe two or three inches shorter. She had a pixi hair cut and a perfect smile. 

And her eyes. 

Unlike any eyes I've ever seen before. They were a light brown with specks of gold and green in them and a dark blue ring around them. I couldn't even get a word out. 

"Hi there," she said cheerfully. 

"Hi," I said, unsure of what to say. It was only then when I realized she was covered in paint. It was on her arms, her chest and neck, her face and even in her hair. Mostly blues and oranges, I looked past her and saw that her apartment was a mess with paintings and paint everywhere. 

She moved her head in the way of what I was looking at, she let out an awkward laugh, "Can I help you?" 

"Oh, yeah. Uh, your musics a little loud... and some people upstairs are trying to sleep..." I said, shoving my hands in my pockets. 

"Oh my musics loud? Wow I had no idea." She said sarcastically, crossing her arms across her chest defiantly, "You don't really look like you're trying to sleep," she said, observing my suit and tie I had yet to take off from work.  

"Look, I mean there's a little old lady upstairs who goes to bed really early, and I'm here on her behalf to ask you to--please-- turn down your music. I'm sorry, but she's just a sweet lady she's not asking for much-" 

"Got it. I'll turn it down," she smiled, putting her hands in her back pockets. 

I got lost in her eyes again, not knowing what to say. 

She smiled, "Uh, hah, if that's all I think I'll get back to my work." 

"Yeah. Yeah thats all." I said, running my hand over my hair. 

"Okay then. You have a good night and tell the little old lady that I'm sorry." 

"I will," and with that she shut the door. 

I stood there for a few more seconds, staring at the peeling green paint on the door before walking back upstairs. 

When I got back upstairs, I changed into sweatpants and a tee-shirt. Opening a bottle of beer and sitting on the couch I turned on the T.V.. I couldn't focus on the show and frankly, I don't remember what was on. All I could think about was her eyes. 

And that's what I thought about when I was falling. 

Her eyes 

and how I somehow knew our daughter would have the same ones.