Don't Push

Don't Push

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Bianca gripped both children's hands, making it apparent to the man that they were in her grasp. The path was narrow, and the drop to the river below was steep. Even though he had politely tipped his hat, it didn't mean his thoughts weren't filled with wanton mischievousness. The moment he passed, he could quickly turn around and push them.

Don't push, her thoughts repeated. Please don't push.

The red from his untucked shirt continued to drip along the path, and he stepped aside to allow them to go around him. She tightened her grip on their hands.

Please don't push.

As soon as they were around him, he grabbed her daughter's shoulder, and pushed her slightly. Bianca sucked in her breath. His laughter crackled in the cold air, as at the last minute, he pulled her back.

"Please don't do that," Bianca said, trying to keep the sharpness from her voice. She must remain calm. She must remain soft. Otherwise, he would push.

"No harm done," he said looking down at her daughter and showing his toothless grin.

Her daughter then tried to catch a drop of the thick red, but Bianca pulled her before it could splash unto her fingertips.

"Don't touch," she said, and before her daughter could protest, she pulled both children to continue walking.

As soon as they were some distance away from the man, she allowed them to play again, skipping and jumping to try and catch the falling sugar maple leaves.

Someone else was coming down the path, and Bianca hurried and caught her children's hands again.

Please don't push.

It was a woman this time, her hands covered with red. As she came close, she teased Bianca's children as if she was going to spread it all over their faces. Her son dared her, and Bianca warned him, and his hurtful face was clearly shown. That act kept the woman walking and leaving her hands to herself.

Bianca's heart quickened as a group now approached not far behind the woman. They were laughing and talking loudly, and not watching where they stepped. She kept her grip.

Please don't push.

A few made a way for them, their feet slipping down the incline. Leaves floated and twigs tumbled down to the river, but they were all too high up to hear a splash.

While Bianca's eyes were on the steep decline, one of them picked up her son and tossed him up into the air.

"Don't!" Bianca screamed.

He grabbed him from the air at the last minute. "We're just play--"

Bianca didn't allow him to finish, as she grabbed her son from his arms and held him close.

"Isn't he old enough," the young man mumbled apologetically.

Bianca turned away from him, and placed her son back down on his feet.

The group walked away, and she heard one whisper, "What's her problem?"

She couldn't allow her children to play and chase leaves anymore. The coming of more people on the path was inevitable. And they were just as unpredictable as the strong wind with its sharp twists and turns, which prevented her children from catching a leaf. Some would walk by courteously, while others....

It was a sweetheart couple this time.

Please don't push. Keep walking.

But they didn't. The woman stopped.

"Aren't you darling," she said, bending down, and then to her husband, "Aren't they darling, Darling?" She giggled at her own joke.

Bianca immediately saw the look on his face as he reached towards them.

"Please don't do that," Bianca said, sternly. The stress of the path was taking its toll. She sighed, and then gave her repeated explanation. "I'm a non-traditionalist."

"Oh." The man withdrew his hand.

"Why?" the woman asked, lifting up. "It's not traumatic. I'm sure your parents have done the same with you, and you came out fine."

"No," Bianca opposed, which seemed like a thousand times. "It's terrifying and I do not want that for my children."

"Well," the woman said defiantly, "When we have children--"

"When you have children," Bianca said, "then push them right off the cliff!" She then pulled her children and walked around them. "Excuse me."

She heard them mumbling, but she didn't bother trying to decipher what they said.

Finally, they had reached the other side, and she was able to breathe, and her heart could beat without pounding against her chest. Home was not far off, and she welcomed the familiar scent when they opened the wooden door.

"When I grow up, I'm going to paint the leaves purple!" her son said, taking off his coat and hanging it on the hook.

"There's no such thing as purple," her daughter rolled her eyes. "Traditionally, sugar maple leaves are only green, yellow, orange or red. That's it!"

"Purple," he said, darting his face back and forth in front of hers.

"Mom!" She begged for help.

Bianca gently pushed him towards the tower of large crates. "Up you go."

As he climbed up to the top, he did as he was instructed and bent his knees and jumped, shouting. "Purple!"

His translucent wings caught the air and beat rapidly. "Look!" he said, completely shocked. "I'm flying!"

Bianca Lillylight smiled. "Yes, you are!" Finally.

She sighed to herself and looked down at her daughter. One more to go.

© 2019

Other Writings - Short Stories