Featured Short Story: Sabina Had a Little Girl by Caitlin Reade Keenan

Sabina Had a Little Girl 
By Caitlin Reade Keenan

Sabina had a baby. She wanted a girl. When she got one she felt like this was it. The baby had a birthmark on her face. Sabina loved Henry James so this made her love the baby more. It didn’t matter to Sabina that the story was written by Nathaniel Hawthorne, she liked the story, but she liked Henry James better.

When Sabina’s baby became Sabina’s little girl she chewed her mother’s fingers. Sabina painted her own nails red. Sabina was sorry that the little girl might eat the nail polish but she didn’t want to stop her from holding her fingers in her mouth. It was a mother’s love. It did not occur to Sabina to stop painting her nails. The red lacquer had become a part of her.

Sabina’s little girl walked to school. She left one morning wearing her yellow backpack and passed Sabina in the garage.

“What are you doing?” Sabina’s little girl asked her.

“I’m painting the garage,” Sabina answered.

“What color,” asked Sabina’s little girl.

“Taupe,” answered Sabina.

“What does taupe look like?” asked Sabina’s little girl.

“It’s a brownish color,” answered Sabina.

When Sabina’s little girl came home from school Sabina was still in the garage putting things away. “What made you decide to paint the garage gray?” asked Sabina’s little girl. Sabina turned to her daughter and studied her face.

“I painted it taupe. Like I said,” answered Sabina.

“I thought you said taupe was brownish,” said Sabina’s little girl.

“It is brownish,” said Sabina. Sabina touched the wall of the garage.

“It’s gray,” said Sabina’s little girl, “you were wrong to describe it as brown.”

“I wasn’t wrong to describe it as brown because taupe is brown, or brownish,” said Sabina.

“This garage is gray,” screamed Sabina’s little girl, “If the garage is gray why can’t you call it gray?”

Sabina was sorry the little girl had a bad day at school. “I’m sorry you had a bad day at school,” said Sabina to her little girl.

“I did not have a bad day at school,” Sabina’s little girl informed her mother. Sabina’s little girl went to her room.

The little girl poured out her crayon box. She had hundreds of crayons. “Crayons, crayons, everywhere,” sang Sabina as she passed the little girl. The little girl read the names of each and every one of her crayons and then pressed them onto paper. Their wax curled. Little wax flakes melted on the linoleum and softened to the little girl’s arms and elbows. Sabina folded clothes. Sabina stirred the pot. The little girl sunk downstairs. She went into the shed and found the paint.

((Dear Reader: Sabina finds the truth extremely uninteresting.))

The little girl wrote on the lid of the can of taupe paint. Sabina never saw the note because Sabina was already done painting the garage and she wouldn’t use that paint again. On to a new color for Sabina.

There were many things that Sabina wanted to teach her daughter that couldn’t see taupe about. She made lists to remember things to tell her little girl. Here is a sample of some of the things Sabina taught her daughter:

1. Salt is the best, most important thing to keep in the kitchen. But, be careful, sometimes people add other things to salt: garlic, celery, or season. If those things are added to the salt don’t put extra salt in the dish. (The daughter who couldn’t see taupe loved salt. But ignored her mother and over salted everything.) (When Sabina was a little girl in Germany her grandmother used to say (in German) “I’ve used too much salt… I guess I’m in love.”) (Sabina knew this saying couldn’t be true, her daughter was not in love.)

2. Keep your feet soft. Men will like that about you later in life. (The daughter who couldn’t see taupe went barefoot.) (Sabina knows things like soft feet and clean fingernails make a man like you.) (Sabina’s daughter wanted to know how to make a man keep you.) (Sabina will have to confess later there is no answer for that.)

3. Pay attention! The devil is in the details. (When Sabina told her daughter who couldn’t see taupe that one her little girl was baffled.)

When Sabina was asleep the little girl would stay awake. She touched the birthmark on her face. Over and over again she touched the birthmark. The little girl wondered if the birthmark was there because it was there or if it was there because she kept touching it. “Who’s to say?” decided the little girl.

The little girl kept the taste of her mother’s fingernails in her mouth redolent of stale, red polish. “Does a father give you a birth mark or does a mother give you a birthmark?” wondered the little girl.

The little girl stayed up all night one night making self portraits. Every one was different because she moved the birthmark in each one. One of the birthmark on her chin. One of the birthmark on her forehead. One of the birthmark on her nose. One of the birthmark in the exact right spot. The little girl fell asleep on her drawings.

Sabina woke her little girl up for school. “Wakey, wakey,” sang Sabina to her little girl. Sabina’s little girl pretended not to wake up. Sabina picked up the portraits one by one and looked at each. “This one looks the best,” said Sabina.

“What is wrong with this picture?” asked Sabina’s little girl then Sabina’s little girl opened her eyes.

“Nothing,” said Sabina.

“The devil is in the details,” said Sabina’s little girl.

“I don’t think you quite understand that saying,” said Sabina to her little girl.

Caitlin Reade Keenan is a fiction writer living in Atlanta, Ga. Busking at the Seams is excited to announce that Keenan will be contributing a bi-monthly book review column starting Thursday, Oct. 24. The column will focus on books from independent publishers and presses, and will include established and emerging voices.