Brief Three

Gina

She took a bite off her sandwich. “We an wo ith” she mumbled with her mouth full.
“Sure we can do it.” I agreed. She sat on a small wooden bench under an old chestnut tree eating her lunch. I stood before her, my own untouched sandwich in hand. She swallowed and looked up at me.
“You will talk to your uncle, right?” she asked “You said he can help us.”
“Of course.” I said.

It was doable. I had no doubts or fear. We were perfect for it. Well, Gina could have used a nose job and that hair … we definitely needed to do something about that hair of hers. For a Caucasian girl, she had an unusual African American kind of hair. Black, coarse and thick and curled up so tight, it sat on top of her head like a wig. I always wondered where she’d gotten that hair from. An influx of African American blood in her family would be unheard of, impossible in fact. But there it was and we had to do something about establishing some sort of control over it before we went ahead with our life changing plans. I couldn’t remember who had come up with the original idea but I know I was the one who took it and ran with it. I was “the brains” of the operation. And there was my uncle, of course. It would have been next to impossible without him. But he was my uncle and he would help us. Gina had no one in the business nor was she a go-getter herself. No, Gina was a follower. And she listened to me in awe as we sat under that chestnut tree many a lunch breaks and I talked about our bright future ahead of us and how we were gonna get out of there. The world was ours.

The bell rang. Man, lunch time sure flew by in those facilities. Gina stood up. I could see she had dropped a blob of ketchup on her uniform.
“They might make a stink about that” I said pointing to the red smear on her chest. She looked down.
“Shit” she swore and took out a napkin from her pocket. She spat on it and began rubbing at the ketchup stain. She only made it bigger and more noticeable. I looked around. The crowd had dissipated. Everyone knew better than to stay out past the bell. The last couple of vagabonds dashed for the doors.
“Come on” I urged “Or we’ll be late and you know what happens then. That stain’s nothing compared to being late. We can’t afford to get in the black books now. Not so close to our…”
“You two!” the Big Guy shouted at us. He always came out exactly two minutes after the bell to make sure we were all inside. Gina jumped. She tucked the napkin back in her pocket and looked at me. Her expression was a mix of disgust, anger and fear. I grabbed her by the elbow and we rushed past the Big Guy through the heavy doors and into the damp, gloomy interior of the Facility.
“We’ll talk more at lunch tomorrow, OK?” I whispered in Gina’s ear before we entered the room.
But we never did have that talk. The next day, my uncle came through for me and got me out. He couldn’t do anything about Gina.

I think about her often. I wonder what became of her. I wonder if she hates me for leaving her, for promising her a better life, for promising her the world and then running out on her. I reach for the bottle of Johnny Walker. Dearest Gina, please forgive me.

Brief Two

Salem

Standing in the freezing night, I thought about thrashing the schoolyard. Only a few days ago I would have thought about erecting you a monument in the schoolyard but now I thought about thrashing it! The headlights of my car behind me imprinted my shadow on the school’s wall, long and eerie. I clenched my fists. How could you do this to me?

I closed my eyes and thought back to the day we met. I thought you were one of us. And imagine my surprise when I opened that door and saw you standing there on the wrong side. I froze mid-stride in the door frame until the door hit me from behind and I stumbled in the room. All eyes on me. Including yours. I couldn’t tear myself away form them, those big, black, intense eyes.

I was late. After, I’d be always late. Partly because I couldn’t bring myself to see you every time talking, laughing and joking with the rest knowing you could never be mine. I knew it was wrong. I knew that you knew it was wrong. So why did you look at me that way? Why did you come close? Why did you trip over my clumsy feet? You tortured me. The whole school tortured me. They mocked me. And they giggled and pointed in my direction when I walked by. Because they knew. And you knew. And you let them.

I opened my eyes and let the cold night breeze blow the tears dry. I couldn’t hate you. I wanted to but I just couldn’t. It wasn’t your fault. Maybe you needed my help but I wasn’t there for you. How could I have known? Mr. P said I was making a difference. He knew, didn’t he? You had told him. You must have. He was your friend. He was my friend too. But he’s safe and sound tonight sleeping beside his wife in his warm, cozy bed in his big, fancy house and where are you now? Where am I?

I turned and got back inside my car. I revved the engine. Twice. Three times. I squeezed the wheel till my knuckles turned white. How could you do this to me? I loved you. I think you knew that. I floored the gas pedal.

Brief One

The Town


The tears in my eyes make it hard to see, but I keep walking. I know the way quite well by now. My feet follow the narrow path along the river. I have walked this path many times before. I follow the sound of the water. This path will take me home whether I want it to or not. It is the same every time. My feet step steadily one in front of the other despite my raging desire to turn back and run.

I love this place. It is beautiful, it is tranquil, and safe. It is home right now. But the place I have just left behind beckons me and I struggle to calm myself and keep going. Every step I take takes me further and further away from it and even though I know I will return again soon, I dread the moments that will have to pass until then.

The tears run down the side of my face. I hasten my pace hoping to outrun the pain, but it remains at the centre of my chest, and it will not go away until I am back there.

When I am there, everything is right. There is a calmness in the air and a calmness in my heart. I feel at peace. I feel content. I feel happy. But most of all, I feel like I belong. It is miles away from home, but it is home.

I have traveled a long way not knowing where my journey will end, but alas, I have arrived at it. I remember taking my first steps along the crowded street. It felt strange and unfamiliar then, and yet welcoming, inviting, accepting. I remember strolling aimlessly down through the square and along the bridge over the river. I remember wandering down the quiet streets on the other side, turning right, turning left, with no particular destination. I remember getting swallowed up by that town, sinking deeper and deeper into the very heart of it.

The rain drops hesitate on the way down creating a thin mist in the air. The breeze carries it along like a lace curtain. A few more steps and I am in front of the door. It closes behind me and the world remains outside locked out on the other side of it. I am in my own little world now, cozy and comfortable, and full of mind cluttering distractions. The town is gone now save for a faint memory lingering somewhere in the depths of my mind. I busy myself with the mundane routines of the day hoping it will bring the night sooner.

Night is the only thing separating me from the town. I must wait the night out for in the morning I will return there again. I close my eyes and drift off. Sleep is surely a waste of time but it comes quickly. It takes over my body and my mind and it takes me away from the town. To fight it would be pointless and I give in every time, my last conscious thought always the same. "The town awaits me in the morning."

The day is gray today and it makes the town appear tranquil. The thick clouds hide the sun and hang over the tops of the buildings like a heavy blanket. The narrow streets seem narrower, the tiny shops, tinier, the slow river under the bridge flows even slower swelled up from the recent rains. I step over the cobble stones and make my way down the river bank and down to the old town. This is my favorite spot. I can see the old houses from here, resting along the hill on the other side of the river and the tall pointy roof of the temple stabbing through the grey sky. I watch the blue-green water as it squeezes under the ancient stone bridge columns connecting the old town to the new, and the steady flow of cars and people passing over it. Eyes wide open, I take in the beauty of this place and try to permanently imprint it in my mind so that I may never forget it. I try to freeze this precious moment in my memory for ever. I do not know how many moments like this one I have left remaining here in this town. Perhaps many, perhaps only a few, but I savor each one like it is my last.

The sound of the bells echoes in the grey sky reminding of the inevitable. Time. Constant and unstoppable, time will pass over this town, changing it, aging it. Will it still be here thousands of years from now? I do not know and somehow this is not important right now. Right now, all that matters is this moment by the river bank, a minuscule grain of sand in a vast, endless desert, but a tremendous part of a single life.

I rise. It is time to go now and even though I know I will be back, I cannot help the sadness that comes over me as I walk back through the grey streets that take me away from here.

The town looks lovely in the rain. The rooftops glisten. The raindrops create beautiful patterns on the windows of the shops before falling to the ground and flowing away between the cobblestones like hundreds of mini rivers. I walk on as the rain washes over me washing away my sorrow, my sadness, washing away my very soul into this town forever. I walk on but my heart remains at the river bank.

My feet step steadily one in front of the other along the familiar path. The tears in my eyes make it hard to see but I keep walking. Each step takes me further and further away from the town, but I know, I will be back there tomorrow.

The sun rises over the damp rooftops. The town glistens in the morning sunlight, clean, fresh, and new. I open my eyes. A broad smile spreads across my face as the realization comes: I am home!