An Uncommon Family by Christa Polkinhorn

when Karla was desperate. A few nights before, she had woken up and screamed. When Anna came rushing into her bedroom, thinking that the child had another one of her nightmares, she found Karla wide-awake in bed. She seemed all confused.
    “I can’t remember what Mama looked like,” she cried.
    Anna hugged her and pointed at the photo of her mother on the chest of drawers. “You just need to look at the picture of her, then you’ll remember,” she told her.
    Karla eventually calmed down. Anna put her mother’s photo on the nightstand right next to her bed. Karla looked at the picture for a while, then her eyelids fluttered and she fell asleep again.
    Such incidents showed Anna that the hurt was still there. The open wounds may heal with time but the scars would remain. The traumatic event of the car accident and her mother’s and grandmother’s deaths had robbed her of that feeling of security and comfort that was so important in a young child’s life.
    Anna remembered the pain of loss when she was little and her father and mother split up for some time. It was much less traumatic than what happened to Karla, but even decades later, Anna could still feel the terror and pain, when the so-far secure world at home became undone.
     
    Anna’s parents were a strangely matched couple. Father, the American artist, the freedom-loving creative dreamer and Mother, the strong woman, too demanding of herself and of others. They quarreled about everything.
    One day after school, Anna noticed her father’s car in front of the house. He normally wasn’t home that early. She opened the door, dropped her schoolbag next to the wardrobe, and rushed to meet him. A few steps into the hallway, she stopped, hearing loud voices in the kitchen. Then the door opened and her father stepped outside, his face flushed. Anna saw her mother sitting at the table. She was supporting her head with her hands. Her blond hair, which was usually tied in a neat bun, had become loose and was hanging into her face. Her shoulders were heaving. A head of lettuce, carrots, and a colander with green beans were spread out on the kitchen table, waiting to be transformed into dinner.
    Anna was familiar with her parents’ fights, but somehow, this time, she felt that things were more serious. “Why is Mama crying?”
    Her father bent down and hugged her. “Anna,” he said. He spoke with a slight American accent. “Mother and I are having problems. I’m going to move out for a while until things get better again.”
    Anna’s heart stopped. She held on to her father, digging her fingers into his arms. She searched his eyes for any kind of sign that this all wasn’t true.
    “Don’t worry, we’ll still be together. You can visit me and I’ll visit you all the time.”
    It was only then that Anna saw the suitcase next to the wardrobe. “Don’t leave, Daddy, please. Don’t leave.” Anna’s head was spinning and she felt she was suffocating.
    “Anna, you have to be brave. Be kind to your mother. She needs you now. I’ll call you tonight, all right?” He picked up the suitcase and opened the door.
    “No,” Anna screamed at the top of her lungs. “Don’t go.” She fell to her knees and began to cry loudly. The world as she had known it shattered and a cold wave of fear washed over her.
    “Anna, come here.” Her mother stood at the kitchen door. Her face was swollen from crying. She held out her arms. “Come, honey. It’ll be okay. I promise.”
     Eventually, things were okay again, at least on the surface. After a few weeks, her father moved back in. The feeling of abandonment Anna had felt that day, the fear of everything safe and secure being snatched away from her, never quite left her, though. Sometimes, when she came home from school and saw her father’s car outside, she was overcome by dread. Would he leave again?
     
     
    Chapter 13
     
    It was another hot summer day. The horizon above the lake to the south was tinged with a smoky