Part 1: First Draft

Abigail June Braywood stood in the middle of the Miller Park soccer field as her mother tied her thick, curly, red hair into a tight pony tail. The girls natural strawberry highlights shimmered as the sun shined down on her. The tie was decorated with strands of purple and black ribbon. Abigail represented her team colors proudly. She was squirmy and impatient, as most children her age were. The girl’s mother would describe her as defiant and stubborn. This was her first year playing soccer because she was finally old enough. Looking ahead, the young girl found her team mates running into the field to greet her. She excitedly attempted to escape her mothers grasp, “Abigail June!” her mother yelped at her, “Stop moving!” Abigail’s mother jerked her by her pony tail. Abigail quickly stood at attention; she knew if she heard her middle name called she was about to be in big trouble. Her mother hurried to finish the pony tail; and unpleased with the results, Abigail’s mother sent her to line up for the team picture. 

Abigail’s big, round eyes were more blue than the ocean that day. Her mother beckoned, “Abigail June! Stand up straight.” Abigail’s back immediately restricted into an upright position. She shook her head in hopes of relieving the discomfort, “Abigail! Stop squirming,” her mother shouted at her.

The group was surrounded by soccer goals and supportive team banners. The coaches lined up two by two and held the banner behind the players. The players were all girls and they sat before the parents on a bench eager to finish their team pictures.  The young girls held a sign with the team’s name and the date, September 2000. Together, the group faced a camera man and his equipment.Abigail felt an uncomfortable, yet familiar feeling in the air around her, so thick her chest tightened as if she couldn’t breath. 

Abigail’s mother, Gene, was strict, demanding and cold; strong like a ruler and tough like soldier. Her mother was, one would say, hard to get along with and expected Abigail to be proper and obedient. Abigail visualized her mother as strong, for she was experienced in hardship and independent. She feared and worshiped Gene. Gene was the toughest and hardest woman she knew. Young Abigail also thought her mother was fearless in the sense that when Gene wanted her way, she would stop at absolutely nothing to get it. 

As Abigail waited patiently to say “Cheese!” she listened in on a conversation between her mother and her mother’s boyfriend, Mr. Dave, that they were having behind the banner. She listened in anticipation of hearing herself mentioned. She was hoping to hear something that would advise Abigail on improving her behavior to please her mother. To her surprise she eavesdrop on something that should not have been said around her.

“Is he coming?” Mr. Dave asked Gene. “I’m not sure,” she answered, “he always says he will come to her but,” “He’s a loser, Gene. We will not wait any longer,” exclaimed Dave. “Are you guy’s ready?” the Team Mom asked, peaking her head behind the banner. Her husband, the Assistant Coach, was already holding the team’s banner. “Yes, her Dad is a loser and did’t show up” said Mr. Dave. Gene was puzzled and quiet. The adults went back to banner holding position. On the left side of the banner stood Janet, the Team Mom, and her husband the Assistant  Coach. On the other side stood Abigail’s mother, the Coach, and Mr. Dave. The parents surrounded the children and excitedly yelled, “Smile!” Abigail wondered why Mr. Dave was going to be in the picture. Who was he, to her? No one significant in her life, a stranger, she thought. 

A flash of brightness blinded Abigail and her team mates. With a blink of their eyes, it was over. The parents gathered their belonging and shuffled the children to the cars. Gene pulled Abigail by her arm and rushed her to the car. Abigail turned her head around as her mother dragged her across the field. Time froze when she saw her Dad running towards them. Soft tears ran down Abigail’s sad face. All of a sudden Abigail was being strapped into Mr. Dave’s grey truck and they began driving away. She watched her dad as she drove away. He stood somber in the middle of the soccer field with trails of tears running down his face.

Abigail’s Dad, Harrison, had a rough face and a soft soul. He was passionate and sensitive. He translated it into anger more often than not. But Abigail knew everyone in her family had a temper. Just as she knew everyone pointed fingers. Abigail knew her Dad was a good man and knew he loved her very much. As Abigail worshiped her mother, Harrison worshiped Abigail. Abigail felt an emptiness inside her though. Little did she know, an army was being built to guard her fragile heart. 

Later that evening she had a phone call with her Dad. “I am so sorry I missed your picture day, Abby. Your Mommy told me it was at 2:30 and but it was really at two.” Harrison pleaded. “I love you, Abby.” Abby didn’t know what to think. She said goodnight to Harrison and handed the phone to her Mother. Abigail went to her room to get ready for bed and waited for Gene to come tuck her in.

This day turned Abigail from sweet and frail to guarded and stringent.