Tuesday, March 19, 2013
“Are
you sure this is safe?”
Monday
looked up at an 8 story building on Sanders street. Sanders Street was one of
the few streets not named after saints; it was once the factory side of town
where the Blair brewery was built, but the family had moved locations years
back, leaving empty buildings behind. The moonlight hit the crumbling brick and
bounced of the broken glass roofs illuminating the ally below. Monday stood
next to Ezra, both in Nightling form and wearing the Nightling's uniform; dark
jean, fingerless gloves, and a black tank top with a slit in the back for the
wings, it was a week since she had become and Nightling training had begun.
“You’ll
be fine,” Ezra jumped up and grabbed a window ledge 8 feet up then swung up to
another one, Monday watched with amazement as he shimmed up the wall, making
his climb look effortless. He had made it to the roof and jumped down,
releasing his wings to slow his fall. He landed in front of her barely breaking
a sweat, “See, it’s easy.”
Monday
had never seen a Nightling, or anyone, move like that before. His agility impressed
her anticipation, “How did you do that?”
“Another
perk to being a Nightling; cat like agility. It makes it easy to move around
walls and keep in the shadows. What you want to do is look for ledges, your
claws are there to help grip, but it must be graspable. You ready to try?”
Monday
looked up at the ledge but saw a problem, “Ezra, I’m 5 feet tall. I can’t jump
that high.” Ezra looked at Monday, then at the wall, “Try to get a running
start and step up with the wall.”
Monday
back up a few feet and focused on the ledge. She ran to the wall, keeping her
eyes on the ledge, she felt her foot touch the wall and lift up-
Bam.
Monday feel back to the ground, her squished wings cushioned her fall.
“Are
you okay?” he asked. Monday nodded, Ezra pointed at the wall again, “Good. Try
again.”
And
she did, again and again and again. Monday always slipped at the last second
and would fall back to the ground. After a while, she ached and her wings felt
stiff from taking the blunt of her injuries. Almost an hour later, Monday final
stepped up and caught the ledge, “I did it!”
She
spoke to soon; Monday lost her grip and fell back down. Ezra loomed over her,
no longer concerned if she was hurt, and smiled, “I knew you’d get the hang of
it. You want to head back? We have a busy day tomorrow?”
They
drove home, had dinner while Michael sleep and the next morning, Monday woke up
sore, but to a large breakfast and coffee. “Coffee is the nectar of the
Nightlings; it keeps you up after a long night.”
“From
the lack of sleep from the uncomfortable wings or the wall jumping?” Monday
asked eating a piece of bacon. After Ezra gave Michael a quick kiss, Monday
followed him down to the bakery to start their day; Ezra may be her legal
guardian now, but she still needed to help out. Wearing an extra apron, Monday
kept the place clean while Ezra worked his magic. The work was boring, but
Monday liked his company. After they close the shop up at the end of the day,
they left for Sanders again. When the sun went down and they transformed,
Monday popped two pain pills that Marcus gave her and gave into the
transformation. Once the meds kicked, Monday slipped into her Nightling roll.
Once the meds kicked in, she tried to climb the wall again. After trying and
failing but getting a bit better every time, she went home and collapsed on her
bed.
This
was a strange new life, but for the first time in a while, she was happy.
May
was ending and summer had begun, Ezra kept Monday busy in the shop as bridal
season had begun. Bride after bride came in collecting their cakes and ordering
new ones, Monday had never seen Ezra this over worked. Monday woke up June
13th, wore her favorite orange dress, and headed down stairs. Ezra was busy
rolling fondant when Monday came in; she had just tied her apron on when the
bell for the bakery rang. Monday went to open the door and found Edith outside.
Edith came in and handed Monday a stack of papers, “17.”
“I’m
actually 18 today,” Monday smiled.
“Actually
that would be the number of times you stabbed you step-father. The top form is
a copy of the autopsy report; I thought you might like a copy.” Monday’s face
fell. “Among those forms is your new birth certificate. Happy Birthday, you’re
official dead.”
Ezra
came out of the back, covered in flour, he looked surprised. “Today’s your birthday?
Damn, I forgot.”
Monday
sat down at the table and spread the forms out in front of her, Ezra looked
over some of the forms as Edith was pointing out some of the adoption forms to
him, but Monday couldn’t hear what they were saying for the ringing in her ear
was too high. The only file that caught her eye was a fresh birth certificate.
Monday-Marie
Borne; born today, 18 years ago. It had been more than a month since Dion’s
death and two weeks since she left the church, in that time, it had never
accord to Monday what the cost of her actions were. As she stared down at her
new identity, it hit her. She was dead, the night that Dion died was the same
night she did. Monday Caldecott was gone.
She
must have been too silent, because she jumped when Edith shouted her name. “Are
you Deft? I asked what your last year was in school.”
“Um,
I was supposed to be a senior this year.” Monday stuttered out. Edith handed
Monday pile out of the stack to look over, going through her new transcript,
“I’m going back to school?”
“You
may be 18 but since you didn’t finish your last year and with how young you
look, Marcus thinks that it’s best. St. Ulrich is a privet school in the area
that gets a lot of money from Daylighters so that they won’t ask questions.
Somewhere in here is a catalog for you to go over, you need to pick out classes
and get a uniform; don’t worry about the tuition, you’re under ‘scholarship’.”
“You
okay?” Ezra asked. It was too much, before her, her new life was planned out
but felt uncertain. Monday had never had this much security in her life, more
so in the last few month. She was just getting used to the idea of a Nightling
life; a life outside of that was over powering. She didn’t give Ezra an answer,
but he must have known. Ezra pulled out his wallet and handed her a few
twenties, “Why don’t you go out today. You haven’t been around the city by
yourself and working is no way to spend your birthday. Go treat yourself to
something; I’ll go through these for you.”
Monday
felt uncomfortable taking Ezra’s money, but the thought of getting out
convinced her. Monday gave him a sincere smile and took the money, leaving them
behind in the shop. Already, when she was outside, everything felt different.
Monday couldn’t quite tell what is was as she walked down to Barleys Park that
she figured it out, she had freedom. When she walked through the city, she
didn’t get angry or dirty looks. People passing weren’t a threat to her. She
wasn’t constantly worried that she would be picked up and returned home. It was
liberating to her.
The
money was plenty enough for what she wanted to do. Barleys Park reminded her of
St Lawrence Street with its lushes green lawn. The buildings lack the normal
uniform look; instead they were old houses of different shapes, size, and
styles that had been converted into shops over the years. Monday wanted to come
to Barleys ever since she helped Ezra deliver a cake to the area, there was an
old book store that she wanted to check out. After she had done research on Dr.
Dakota Frank, she wanted to check his book out herself.
Barleys
Books was formally a two story brick house, but the porch had been changed into
a window display of different books on sale. Inside, every inch of the store
was bookshelves, rows and rows twisted through the house. Behind the desk in
the former front room was a man in a twee jacket watching the news on a small
TV. He looked up at Monday, surprised that he even had a customer, “Can I help
you?”
“I’m
looking for Science of the Dark by-”
“It’s
in mythology, on the shelves behind classic in the kitchen. You’re not the
first to ask for it.” Monday thanked him and made her way to the shelves. She
ran her fingers down the spines, tracing the names until she found the Fs; once
she found the book, she lend against the shelf and skimmed the pages. Monday
was surprised by the amount of detail in the book, everything she had learned
from Ezra and more. Monday wondered how Marcus let him publish the book, until
she found such blanket lies like ‘The current state of the Nightling population
has dwindled in the last few years due to the increasing number of Nightlingist
who study their patterns, that it has caused those few that were left to hid.
Naturally, at night so to avoid the sun’. Monday read through the index when
under one of the chapter descriptions was a word that pecked her interest:
CURE.
Monday
felt a book poke her in the back of the head, she looked through the shelf to
see who was there and saw a boy on the other side. He was a handsome boy; tall,
tan with mahogany hair that just hit the back of his turtleneck and gray eyes
that read through his book, there was something familiar about him but Monday
couldn’t quite place it.
Not
wanting to disturb him, she grabbed her book and headed to the check out. She
handed the store owner her book as he rang it up, “Did you find everything? I
need to order more of those; they sell out fast in this city.”
Monday
didn’t hear him; her face was glued to her face on TV. Behind him on the small
screen, was a picture of her and Dion was the caption MISSING FAMILY MEMBERS
DECLARED DEAD. Not wanting to hang around for the owner to see, she handed him
the money and bolted from the store.
Monday
made it down the block when she heard a voice behind her, afraid that she had
been caught, she picked up her pace. Monday didn’t get very far when she felt a
hand on her shoulder and turned her around. It was the boy from the store and
he was holding her book, “you forgot this.”
There
was something familiar about him but she still couldn’t place it, Monday didn’t
feel she was alone on this. His eyes widened with recognition and Monday
quickly grabbed her book, she turned to leave when she heard him say in a
foreign accent, ‘You’re the girl from the graveyard?”
She
wasn’t the girl from the TV; Monday couldn’t help but let out an internal sigh
of relief. Monday turned to him, a vague memory had come back to her, “The boy
with the roses?”
They
stood there together for a moment, Monday felt awkward as the boy looked her
over with confusion. Monday was afraid that he might have seen the news after
all when he blurted out, “You don’t look homeless anymore.”
He
looked like he regretted it, He started to stumble over his sorry but Monday
couldn’t help but give him a tight lipped smile, “It’s okay. I was, but I’m not
anymore.”
He
smiled, “That’s good. I‘m glad that you found your way. I remembered seeing you
and was surprised you were my age.”
“You
left a rose on my friend’s grave,” Monday said, “I want to thank you for that.”
The
boy shrugged it off, “Not many people visit, I’ve been visiting my brother for
a few years and rarely ever see anyone. I figured that you might like them.”
“I
did wander, where did you find blue roses? I’ve never seen them before.”
“I
made them.” The boy beamed. Monday raised an eyebrow. The boy shrugged, “Family
secret. My mom was a florist and taught me how to make them. You can have some
more to leave on her grave if you want.”
Monday
smiled, she seemed to do that a lot now, “That would be nice, I was thinking
about going out there today. I couldn’t think of anything else to do for my
birthday.”
This
seemed to surprise him, he looked at his phone and then back to Monday, “I
don’t have to be anywhere for a few hours, you want to grab some lunch? My
treat.”
What
was he getting at, Monday wondered. She didn’t know him past that they their
loved ones shared a graveyard and he wanted to take her out to lunch. Every
scenario crossed Monday’s mind until a resent one popped in her head; Ezra
giving her food at her lowest point and treating her like a human being. The
boy had seen her at her lowest too; maybe there were more people like Ezra out
there. Monday check her own hand-me-down-from-Ezra phone to check the time, she
still had a few hours till dusk. Monday had nothing else to do today, “You
pick, and you know the city more than I do.”
The
boy smiled. Monday had to admit there was another reason she excepted his
offer, a cute guy ask you out and doesn’t judge you on your past on your
birthday is something out of a cliché, it felt to good, but after the last few
months, Monday could use a little cliché. He lead the way down the street with
their respected books in hand, “I don’t think I got your name?”
“Monday,”
she said. He raised an eyebrow at her and she looked down embarrassed, “My
mother liked the mother goose poem, I’m just lucky I wasn’t born on Wednesday.
Surly your name is less wired than mine?”
“Sorin,”
he said, “My mother named me after my grandfather. Not an original back story
but an uncommon one. But at least it’s better than a day of the week, couldn’t
have been born on a better one like Friday?”
“Ha
ha,” Monday said. They walked together to a coffee shop a few streets over that
Sorin said had the best coffee in Syringa. On the way, he asked her what she
liked about Syringa and how she found a stable home. Monday tried to answer all
of his questions, but found it hard to answer, because her answers were hard to
swallow. She told him about Ezra and the day he gave her food, Sorin seemed to
believe her, but as she started to lie about what happened afterward, she could
see the doubt in her eyes. When they reached the shop, she was glad that he
finally dropped it.
That
was until he saw what book she had bought, “You’re into the whole Nightling
thing?”
“New
to town and didn’t know what they were, it just sounds like myth to me. I take
it you’re not a believer?” He shook his head as their coffee arrived; Monday
had to admit it was good coffee. Monday put the book away in her bag, “What
were you picking up then, something less town folklore?”
“Actually
no,” He pulled out a copy of Dracula, “I had to buy a new copy for school to
write a report on. I used to live in Romania and it reminds me of home. It’s
actually where Vlad the Impaler was from; he’s the one who inspired Stoker. I
already read it and it drove my parents nuts. My mom is Romani and very
suspicious like she would tell me legends like this all the time and my dad
hated it. He was a Deacon and felt that folk lore took my attention away from
God. I’m sorry I just ramble sometimes.”
“It’s
okay,” Monday said. Sorin seemed so animated when he talked about his parents.
“The only family I have is Ezra and I’m not sure that he counts. Your parents
sound interesting.”
“They
were.” Sorin said. The animated tone he had seemed lost, Monday thought she
knew why, “Were you visiting their graves?”
“No,
they’re in another cemetery. I was visiting my brother. He died long before I
was born but my mom always wanted to visit. Since she never got the chance I thought
I would for her.” He said. The mood of their conversation had change, not to
sadness but to reminisces, “What about your friend? She died recently, I’m
sorry for your loss.”
Monday
didn’t feel like sharing what happened to Alyson, she shrugged him off,
“Nothing I can do about it now other than to make sure she’s not forgotten.
Sorry for your losses.”
“They
died a few back. I live with my aunt and her family now.” Suddenly his phone
went off, Monday snorted when she heard it was the Dracula them song. Sorin
looked embarrassed as he read his text, then disappointed, “Sorry about this;
specking of my aunt, she needs me to watch my cousin tonight. I can walk you
home if you like.”
Sorin
paid for them and they left the shop. The walk to Ezra’s wasn’t too far, but
Monday had wished it was further away. Along the way, they talked about many
things, like mocking Syringa’s perfectness and St. Ulrich (Monday had learned
that he was a junior there, she could help but feel gleeful). When they reached
the bakery’s door, Monday turned to him and asked a familiar question, to a
familiar person, that she had once asked on a familiar day not too long ago,
“Why are you doing this, you don’t know me?”
Sorin
bit his lip and looked own at his feet, “My father taught me to live by God’s
word. God said help the poor and when I saw you that day, I didn’t. I could
have helped you then, but just walked off. My mother had instilled in me
repentance, when you regret something, do everything in your power to make it
better. Plus it was nice spending the day with a friend.”
Sorin
began to walk away when Monday called after him, ‘hopefully I’ll see you this
fall. New school and I already have a new friend. He smiled at her as she
watched him walk away. With her book in hand, Monday walked in to the bakery to
see Ezra closing up. On the table was an orange cake with Happy Birthday
spelled out, “I may have forgotten your birthday but that still doesn’t mean
you don’t get a cake. Pumpkin spice cake for a pumpkin head.”
When she first came to Syringa, Monday wanted her 18th
birthday to come as soon as possible, trapped in life that had pushed her
around. When Monday picked her birthday months ago, she pictured freedom; she
just didn’t think there would be love too.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
2 comments:
I agree, Megan; a very fine chapter. Your treatment of details is much better. "Sanders Street was one of the few streets not named after saints" -- a totally surprising detail that filled me with delight. I like the way you handle Sorin as well. I would put in a few details about lunch -- he invited her, they went to a fun place, had coffee, then left? Leaves the reader unsatisfied.
When I was first their scenes together, it went on much longer, but the longer I wrote the more it seemed to unrealistic. it was was a critic I got with Ezra in chapter 1, Sorin is to perfect. i kinda felt after awhile that maybe it was. Also the Chapter was getting long and i thought that just conversation would get boring after awhile. Shame, because I have been waiting to introduce him for awhile.
Post a Comment