The Power of Testimony

VIRGINIA PRODAN
them, and they didn’t treat me as though I belonged. I only
wished I knew the truth about where I did come from.
That night, I lay in bed, thinking about what the neighbor
and her daughter had unknowingly revealed to me. A growl
erupted from my stomach. There were only stale crackers in
the cupboard. A real family would not have left me for weeks
with little food and no money.
A thud on the side of the house made me bolt upright
in my bed. Was someone coming to kidnap me? The Gypsies?
Were they back? I peeked out my window. Branches swayed
and tapped the house. Not Gypsies. Maybe a limb had fallen
against the house. I studied the shadows of the nearby trees.
Those trees were strong, like a fortress. I need to be strong
too. I sighed and slunk under my covers. I needed sleep and
strength for work tomorrow.
*
Even though I knew them only through the stories I read,
I knew a lot more about my imaginary friends than I did
about my parents, Stephen and Elena.
I knew that Stephen was much older than Elena and that
sometimes he acted more like a grandfather than a father.
He loved our dog, Azorel, so much that upon coming home
from work, he would go to see Azorel first and then come to
see us. He exercised his parental authority only if Elena was
upset with us—otherwise she was the strong, powerful disciplinarian,
especially toward me. Sometimes even an innocent
17