Make your own free website on
Put something here for browsers that don't use Java.

tell me anything, not until that April.
I think we were in tree house looking across the river trying 
to spot her roof among all the other roofs.  It was easy to 
spot, since it boasted five chimneys.  Mary's father loved 
open fires.  He had a fire in his bedroom every time I went 
over to his house, even in summer.  He didn't like me 
hanging around after I dropped Mary off.  He liked her to 
have her bath and go to sleep straight away, even when she 
got older.
Mary didn't seem to need her father, she preferred spending 
time with us, even in the summer holidays.  They always 
had fights and she'd run out of the house.  Soon I developed 
a habit of pressing twenty cents into her hand just before I 
dropped her off.  If she had any problems with her father 
and ran out of the house she'd call me from a nearby phone 
booth and I'd meet her on her side of the river near the first 
supporting strut for the bridge.  I'd take her back to my 
place and she'd stay over night in the spare bed in my 
sister’s room.  No matter how many times this happened 
Mr. Luise never came looking for his daughter.  He drinks, 
was Mary's explanation.
 Mary spotted her house through the trees and pointed it 
out to me.  " I'll have to go back there tonight, I suppose.“  
She said, her voice filled with fear and regret.
"Is your father drinking again?”  I asked her.  I was sixteen 
years old, what else was I supposed to do?  I remember I 
looked back to see father walking into the kitchen, taking 
Janice's eyes away from us the moment.  The other three 
boys were at football practice.
Mary laughed, her narrow face looking paler than ever.  “He 
will be drinking tonight.”
 “Why? “
She looked at me with sad eyes, and an even sadder soul.  “I 
can't tell you, I can't tell anyone.”
I remember creasing my forehead.  I truly had no idea what 
she was talking about.  I took the money out off my pocket 
right then.  No matter how old she got Mary never seemed 
to have any money.  “There,” I said pressing it into her palm 

Copyright Jackie Bulner 1999    

Put something here for browsers that don't use Java.

A Vision of Mary

Next Page:
Previous Page:
Back to HomePage:

Jackie Bulner
Melbourne, Victoria

This page has been visited times.

powered by lycos Search: Tripod The Web