"Push, push," the midwife screamed as I bawled to get the baby out. My hands were tired from grasping the hospital bed. My head was thrown up, and sweat dripped down my scowled forehead. It felt like I was going to die, there was no doubt. This baby, this poor baby, would have to be given up. The more I thought, the more agonizing each effort became.
"One last push, with all your strength. C`mon girl you can do it."The midwife did not give up. I did just that and the baby slithered out.
"Wonderful," she said, hugely satisfied and grinning ear to ear. "Well, you did it. It`s a boy."
Through half-opened eyelids, I peeked at the creature. Weary from my labor, I forgot to smile and kept looking at this miracle, this thing, this marvelous thing that grew in my womb. I often imagined its face, as I sat alone after a terrible bout with my partner. And now, now that I saw him, his little face all wrinkled and fresh, I just stared.
My heart was not exactly filled with joy when the nurse placed the baby in my arms. His face was barely visible from all that wrapping about him; deep furrows appeared on his forehead and his eyes all swollen like a soaked up sponge. I looked at him and wondered what to do, love him or despise him? The nurses kept yelling about bonding; it should be fed straightaway or else the food won`t be ready. I, however, deliberated. Sleepy and confused, this was the face of a new-born. It yawned and stretched in my arms, which put a faint smile on my pale lips. I held it close then closer, smiling tenderly until I began to feel that this baby was mine, my possession, only mine to keep. I jolted back to reality when unexpectedly the nurse said that she needed to take him away to the nursery. I looked at her.
"Why? Where would you take him?"
"He needs to be in the nursery," the nurse replied. "This is not where he belongs, of course. You, of all people, should know that."
"No, I don`t know. Tell me about it."
"My, my, how quickly we forget, eh?
"Forget what?"
"Never mind, if you`re not going to feed it, I`ll have to get a wet nurse to do it."
Before I could say another word, the baby was snatched from my bosom and it disappeared in the nurse`s muscular arms. They left through the back door and were completely gone soon after.
"No. Wait, please, someone, I need to know what`s going on. You can`t take my baby away. I need to speak to my partner."
No one paid attention. The staff that walked the dimly lit corridors was like apparitions, moving deftly through the stark walls just like their uniforms. They were surreal. No one knew where they went.
The psychiatrist looked solemnly at Mary, while she sat up on the divan. Mary opened her eyes widely at Dr. Bringwell`s surgery.
"Terrible nightmares, hey Mary?" he asked.
"Yes. Dr. Bringwell.? What`s wrong with me? I also hear whispers that tell me to be good, not to get angry, to eat, to sleep, to pray."
"Not sure yet," he said looking at the notes he took. "What you have described just now were your nightmares, hallucinations and psychotic episodes. But, we`re only at the tip of the iceberg. We`ll have to work at it. For now, I`ll give you a prescription. Take one tablet every day with food."
"Am I ever going to get better? My nightmares are so real. I see the same baby. His face is always the same. People disappear into walls. I wake up every night feeling dizzy, sweaty, and panicky that I might have the same fate one day and just vanish into thin walls. What`s on the other side though? You do believe me, yeah?"
"Of course, I believe you. It`s awful. But, you`ll be fine. We`ll make sure that you are," he said boldly.
"Thanks."
"I`ll see you in three weeks. In the meantime, feel free to call us if you need to."
"Okay. See you then."
Dr. Bringwell wrote a prescription and handed it out to her from across the desk. Mary reached out; her long fingers touched his thumb.
She left. She stepped out of the surgery onto the crowded street, full of slush from the melted snow. A car honked and sent a shudder through her. She walked across nervously on to the narrow alley and over to the other side, hopping quickly upon the pavement. She stopped at the corner store to buy a packet of cigarettes. Sliding her smooth, unmarked fingers into her long, black, coat pocket, she took a cigarette out of the box along with the lighter. She pressed the butt between her teeth and lit it.
She put the lighter and the pack back into the pocket rapidly and inhaled a deliberate, slow puff. Holding the cigarette between her index and the middle fingers, she slowly breathed out smoke and made rings in the air. Her lips were pursed and she threw her head backward. Glancing at the yellow marks on the tip of her right hand, she bit the inner skin of her index finger and slightly rubbed it against the roughness of the coat sleeve.
Under the lamppost with two arms crossed over her chest, she bent down to do up the laces of her boots. Her glance moved to the right corner of her eyes and she saw a pair of pointy, black shiny shoes. She liked them. Mary continued to look at the shoes until she stood up and found herself abreast of the person. A middle-aged gentleman stood there, waiting for the bus just like her.
"The bus is late," she said looking at him.
He looked at her grimly and nodded. He had a black overcoat with a red striped silk tie peeking out. He had a briefcase in his hand. Mary looked at it briefly and wondered what could be in it. The man looked sideways at her, then moved his head left first, then right to check if anyone was coming. Mary observed him with much interest and wondered what he might do next. The man turned around and looked at her squarely.
"I`m new here," he said. "Do you know if buses come this late?"
"They usually don`t. I wonder what`s wrong."
"Well, why don`t we sit down on that bench while we wait for it?"
"Sure, why not?"
Mary did not think that anything could go wrong, sitting with this stranger, waiting for the bus. She took another cigarette out of her pocket and the lighter, as they made their way towards the bench. It was slightly behind the pole where they initially stood.
"Do you smoke?" Mary asked.
"No. Not much."
"Would you like one?"
"Hmm, okay, I`ll have one today."
She gave him a cigarette out of the packet, lit it for him and took another one for herself. The man coughed a little as he blew out a tiny round of smoke into the air.
"What do you do?" he asked.
"Me?"
"Who else?"
"Yeah, I sell flowers."
"Oh, that`s nice? Do you have a flower shop?"
"I work in a flower shop."
"Oh, I see."
"Although, I do believe that one day it could be mine."
"How so? What do you mean?"
"I mean the flower shop. It may be that I would own it, or partially at least."
Mary did not say much after that but looked up at the gray sky on the eastern corner. It was a harsh, Canadian winter that was drawing towards an end. Her face looked somber as she parted her pink, thin lips in anticipation of something. She thought for a while. Her rosy, chiseled cheeks dimpled and her lips curved into a smile. The man looked at her childlike expressions and into her almond-shaped, grayish blue eyes. His gaze traveled over her small face and fixed on the black, round mole right under her nose. She felt a little self-conscious and tried to look away from the intensity of his gaze; even blushed slightly.
"I don`t think any bus is coming this way today."
"Maybe not," he said as he continued to look at her.
Mary averted his gaze and said, "There`s a storm coming on. I got to go."
"How?" he asked puzzled. "I mean, do you mean to call a cab?"
"Not sure. I think I`ll walk. My shop is not too far. A good fifteen-minute walk should get me there. Besides, cabs are expensive in Halifax, so you know."
"Expensive, really? But, the storm should start by then. Shouldn`t it?"
"Maybe, but what else is there to do?"
He looked up at the sky as the storm brewed and, by the looks of it, it was going to be a terrible one. He sat wondering what to do next, for he did not exactly wish to be caught up in it either. Mary rose suddenly and started to walk. The man looked at her for a while, thinking that she was leaving without saying goodbye. He was not a friend he knew, but what person, who shared a moment together, would walk away like that.
"Hey, don`t leave me in the storm."
"I`m not your keeper. I fly, like a free albatross. Don`t hold me back," Mary turned around to tell him. Her lilting voice faded as she took off. "I`ll tell you all about the shop one day if we meet again." She laughed as her lithe body moved like a tender twig of spring.
"I wouldn`t know where to find you."
"Oh, find me at the flower shop on the corner of Barrington Street."
At that, Mary ran away and disappeared around the corner. The storm began sooner than expected. The man took shelter in one of the sidewalk cafes. At his age, he could not have run after her. So, he did not tell her to wait up, but let her go.
***
A few days had passed since the storm. The man sat at his desk editing his book, contemplating a recent rejection from a publisher. As he looked out of the window, he saw broken branches lying across the road and loose electric wires; havoc left from yesterday`s storm. He wondered how the girl fared; he wondered if she was still alive. Was she hurt by any flying debris? The unnamed girl aroused sympathy in his soul. He wanted to see her again. She did mention that she worked at a flower shop on the corner of Barrington Street.
He had a desire to see her. In all earnestness, he rose from his chair and picked up his hat. He took a black briefcase then opened the door. To lock up, he turned around with a bunch of keys in his hand, took one key out and turned it into the keyhole. The door locked and he slid the key cluster into his coat pocket.
What seemed like a cold mid-morning, turned out to be quite mild, now that the days were changing. What a long winter it was? As he walked toward the bus stop, he hoped that he was not going to be impetuous. The bus finally arrived. He hailed it and asked the driver if he went to Barrington Street. The driver nodded in affirmation.
His chest distended and he thought of the girl. The more he thought, the more restless he became. There was something about her, something, which pulled him so, towards her in spite of it all. The age difference was much, undoubtedly, but he could not disregard her. He reckoned he ought to know her a bit better. Before he could finish his thoughts, the bus reached its destination.
He got off at the corner of Barrington Street and looked for the flower shop. There were several shops lined up on that street. He walked towards the first one but realized that they never really introduced themselves to each other. He did not know how to find her. His grip on the briefcase tightened and his jaw muscles clamped. He entered into the first visible shop. There were several girls working here. They gathered garlands and bouquets of scarlet, crimson, and russet in brilliantly vibrant arrays. He went up to one of the girls.
"May I help you, sir?" she asked.
"Yeah, I`m looking for a young girl of about medium height."
"What`s her name? Do you have a name?"
"No, not really. She had to go before I could ask. But, she smokes. She smokes, quite a bit, in fact."
"Lots of girls smoke here sir. Can you describe her?"
"Hmm, grayish blue eyes, dark hair, coffee-colored skin."
"Like you sir? Did she look a bit like you?"
"No, no, I don`t think so."
"Well, I`ve seen a girl of that description, but she has a mole right under her nose. She works in the next shop. Could it be her?"
"That is right. The mole! Of course, it slipped my mind. Thank you. You`ve been very helpful." The man said grinning cheek to cheek, then retraced his path in a hurry.
The girls at the flower shops smiled and looked at him curiously. The man stumbled awkwardly as he rushed out of the shop. He proceeded next door. At the entrance, he saw the girl arranging a huge bouquet. She looked at him briefly. Over the multicolored flowers, she smiled at him and put the bouquet down behind her on a stool. She turned around to give him her full attention.
"Hi!"
"Hi," he said awkwardly.
"I, umm, came by to see, if you were hurt in that storm."
"No, I wasn`t. I got in just on time," she said simply. Her eyes dancing. "But, it`s awfully nice of you to check on me.? I can`t seem to remember anyone who might have done it."
"I`m sorry to hear that."
"That`s okay. Is there anything you wanted?"
"Yeah, I was thinking that maybe," he paused for a moment then added. "Could we have a private chat somewhere?"
"About what?"
"Oh, just to get to know you a little better. That`s all."
"That`s a strange request."
"It is a bit strange, but not entirely unheard of."
"No, it`s not. I agree that a lot of great friendships started like this."
"That`s right."
"Look, I`m on my lunch break now. Could we perhaps go to that caf? across the road?" she suggested.
"That would be lovely."
"Can you give me a minute? I need to finish the task at hand."
"Certainly, I`ll wait for you outside."
The man walked out of the store. She picked up the bouquet from the stool, away from the morning light, and went inside through the curtains behind the door. The parted curtains faded almost into white. She waited there and looked at him through the glass door as she put the bouquet in a huge jar, partially filled with water. The man standing outside seemed kind.
"Who are you looking at?"
Mary jerked around and looked at the speaker standing in the shadow of the foliage.
"No, no one.? Just thinking of lunch, I guess. You gave me such a fright," she said.
This room was filled with a huge pile of green leaves, flowers, and scissors as well as velvety papers and multicolored paper cuttings.
"Don`t get funny ideas, okay?" he said.
"Of course not, Mark, why should I?"
"You never know, who you might meet these days? You can`t be too careful."
"Of course. What time is the meeting?"
"In about half an hour," he said looking suspiciously at Mary.
"Well, I`ll go now and see you after lunch then?" Mary said.
"Yeah," he said.
Mark was the owner of this shop and he was also going out with Mary. In fact, Mary moved in with him. Not a bad character altogether, but he liked controlling her. Mary worked in his shop five days a week, kept his bed warm at night, and in return got a minimum wage, which came with the promise that one day, she could own a part of the shop. She was happy with this agreement and thought that she had done well at nineteen. But, what really bothered her were those nightmares.
She should not keep him waiting. Hurriedly, she washed her hands and wiped them clean before opening the glass door. Sliding it slightly ajar and to the right, she let herself slip through. She made her way out and met him in the front of the shop under the awning.
"Sorry to have kept you waiting. I got held up in the back room there."
"That`s fine. Which way do we go? You lead the way."
"There`s a crossing at the lights on our left. Why not cross the road there?"
"Sure."
They walked together towards the lights, waiting for the crowd of people to get across. The lights turned to walk. The man and the girl stepped out in unison. The caf? was just around the corner of North Street. Both of them entered the cafe without much ado. The girl was in the lead. A waiter took them to a nice table where they could sit down in some privacy. Mary only had about half an hour in hand. She sat down opposite the man in the dimly lit room across the tiny round table. She saw quite a few gray hairs and a receding forehead. `What could this man possibly want from me?` she wondered.
"What are we ordering?" He asked as he placed the briefcase on the empty chair next to him.
They looked at the menu together. While he ordered the soup of the day with a slice of buttered rye, Mary ordered a vegetable pizza.
"What`s your name?"
"Anthony, Anthony Chang. But, people call me, Tony."
"What`s yours?"
"Mary."
"Just Mary?
"Yes."
"No surname?"
"No."
"How come?"
"I don`t know who my parents are."
"I`m sorry."
"Don`t be," she said politely. "I was raised in a church."
"Oh, for how long?"
"About eighteen years?"
"Eighteen years?"
"Yes. I didn`t want to be a nun, so I left. I was lucky to have found work here at the flower shop."
Tony did not say anything for a while. A waiter brought their orders and asked Mary if she had ordered the pizza. Mary nodded. He placed it before her and the soup before Tony. Tony took the white napkin off the table, unfolded it, and spread it on his lap just as Mary did the same. They both ate quietly. The girl was pretty thin. Did they not feed her properly?
He asked curiously, "What`s the name of the church? May I ask?"
"Why do you want to know?" Mary asked.
"Just curious, that`s all."
Mary was a bit unenthusiastic this time. Okay, she was having a good time and enjoying her pizza with this man who calls himself Tony, or Anthony, whatever. But, he was also years older than her. She was suddenly reminded of Mark and his cautionary words. Perhaps, it was not a good idea to tell a stranger everything. Noticing her reluctance, Tony kept quiet, but he saw how fast she finished her pizza. She said she had to leave because her lunchtime was over.
"Maybe, I`ll see you again. Life`s full of surprises. Isn`t it?"
"It is. Maybe I`ll see you sooner than you think. Oh, one other thing, you don`t have to tell me, if you don`t want to. Do you live alone?" Tony asked.
"Look, I rather not, if you don`t mind."
"That`s okay. Run along then. You don`t want to get into trouble with your boss."
"Thanks for understanding. Bye."
"Bye."
Mary ran outside, merging with the crowd. Tony sat, watching her, through the long and curtained French windows. He could still see her hair and a bit of that pink floral skirt that danced in the air, but she was lost after a while. Tony scribbled a few words, as one window of opportunity closes, the other opens, in his notebook, which he took out of his jacket pocket and put it back in afterward. He ordered a short black, as he slowly sunk into deep thoughts.
The coffee arrived. He took his first sip and looked at the briefcase touching it tentatively. What was he going to do about this girl? Should he let her slip between his fingers? No, he thought resolutely. He picked up the briefcase and paid the waiter a tip on his way out. The girl had left money for the pizza under the drinking glass. Tony smiled and he put the money in his wallet. He wanted to see her again to return the money. But the thought crossed his mind that he may not be welcome just yet. He might have to pay her another visit later in the week.
***
Tony sat down and wrote a new story:
The boat suddenly found itself in the middle of this raging storm as the ocean rocked it violently. A young man woke up and looked at his wife beside him. Along with ten dozen other refugees on the boat, they were destined for Canada. It was a long voyage from the Orient, and they were on this boat for days with people starving, vomiting, leering, and in the end stages of death. Not everyone died; some survived; those who did, by any stroke of luck, survived through the hottest days, the hungriest hours, and most perilous of times.?
Tonight, he could not find her. The young man went outside and looked for her. As he stood on the deck, a cry came from behind the boat. He looked back and found his wife struggling to crawl back towards him, clinging to the boat`s railing. She kept receding. The boat swayed and tipped sideways in the tumultuous tempest. He hurried towards her in an attempt to save her from this approaching danger. Before he could do so, the strong winds swept her away to the rear of the boat. But the man did not give up. He went after her and grabbed her in his strong arms.
Tony read what he had just written. He made a printout and edited it again and again until he deemed it perfect. Then he put it away on his desk and sat down. He relaxed in the soft chair by the calm firelight. He stared at the fire, burning brightly and watched the logs crackle and the debris flying everywhere within the fireplace. However, there was another fire, a fire within him, which he was now in a m?l?e to tame.
He was impatient. He rose from his chair, paced up and down inside the one-room apartment. He felt like an imprisoned cat, caught up in the devil`s rope on edge, trying to climb the barbed wire. The room although spacious, had an open plan with a kitchenette, a bed, and a writing desk. Not the roomiest of the rooms, but cozy in its own right.
Thinking of her mole under the nose, he thought back to girl`s appearance, her simplicity. He thought until the thought could go on no longer. He went back to his desk and took out his briefcase from under his table. The bunch of keys was lying on it. His hand shook as he fiddled with the bunch. He managed to pick out the one key meant for the briefcase.
It contained some odd papers and books. But it also held passports. He took two passports out and opened them one after the other. He could not stop his fingers from shaking. The pictures on the passport were those of a young man and a woman. Not a spitting image as such, but the woman had a mole exactly in the same spot on her face and just the right size as the girl`s; they had the same eyes too. In the grips of nervousness, Tony sat down on the chair at the writing desk, nearly losing his balance.
"Oh, my God! Can this be true? True indeed?" he whispered impulsively.
He needed to find out more. A lot more evidence was required. He would have to be fully convinced before he could believe what he wanted to believe. He put the two passports back in the briefcase along with the printouts of the manuscript. He closed the lid and turned the key until it locked. Tony took it from the table and walked towards the bed. He checked the door before climbing in. With the briefcase on the pillow next to him as though it were a child, he covered it and laid a protective arm over it.
***
Mary was at the flower shop, early in the morning.? It was a few mornings after she had met with Tony. Although nothing significant happened between her and him, there was a tug in her heart that gave her an irresistible desire to be near him.
`Come on`, she told herself, `he`s old enough to be your dad; even that he couldn`t be.` Mary had not realized that Mark came in and stood behind her.
"Mary, what`s wrong?"
"Nothing," she said.
"Something`s missing."
"Like what?"
"How should I know? You tell me."
"I`m fine! Leave me alone!"
"You weren`t the same last night. You were distracted and that was quite obvious."
"What do you want from me? Go away!"
"Are you asking me to go away?" he sneered.
Mary kept quiet. She wanted to tell him that she felt like pouring hot oil over him while she cooked. She felt like telling him that she wanted to block such thoughts, such harmful thoughts, and get them out of her mind.? It was awful that she could not. However, she would not tell him any of this, for she was afraid that he would want to get out of the relationship, leaving her out in the cold. No way, Mark must never know that she had a mental illness and she had been to see a psychiatrist.
Mark left her alone that morning and went away. She saw his anger seething through his gait. His gold chain jiggled around his neck between the buttons of his tight fitted, floral shirt. His ugly buttocks protruded and swayed through his tight, patchy jeans. Mary was frightened. What if he hit her tonight or fired her and did not give her the promised share of the shop? Could she go back to the church? Did she want to?
She could run away though. There was always that possibility. Take refuge in a police station, perhaps. What a great escape it could be? And impressive too, even by the standards of the count of Monty Cristo. Mary laughed silently at her plans. What a plan?But, she was tied to Mark, not only because he was a meal ticket, but also because she loved him, he was her protector. Of course, he would give her the promised share of the shop, one day.? She would make it up to him tonight.
It was a bright, quiet morning. The shops opened, one by one. A few people stopped by to either collect pre-ordered bouquets or to put new orders in for various occasions. There was one for a wedding, one for a funeral, and several others for lovers` birthdays, Valentine`s Day, and so on. The delivery truck dropped off more flowers and the delivery boy winked at Mary. He expressed at some point that he wanted to have t?te-?-t?tes.? Oh, how insufferable this boy was that he expressed this so? She gave him the cold shoulder. Important issues were on her mind today. Lunch with Mark was really important as she needed to ask him about the shop. When was he going to transfer the partial ownership? Find out about proper documents and all that. Then, she would be set for life. The sky could not have looked bluer, not a single patch of clouds anywhere.
She felt a sudden boost in her heart when she went in to check Mark`s diary for the day. He was free at lunchtime. But, as she closed the diary, there was a strange noise coming from the back room. Stumbling accidentally on the door`s threshold, she fell down. There was a shadow on the floor. She looked up immediately. A man stood there, in the dark. It was not Mark.
Could it be Mick? But what would he do here? He already delivered the day`s flowers` up in the front. What would he do here? She came out of the room and asked one of the girls if they heard anything? They said no, they had heard nothing. Distractedly, she went about her business, tidying flowers and answering phones. Soon, she forgot about the intruder.
Mark suddenly appeared out of nowhere, startling her again.
"Why don`t we have lunch today?" she asked
`Yeah. We`ll leave in half an hour."
"Sure."
Mark looked at Mary and tried to comprehend her disposition. She looked happy now. He thought there was then a possibility of a truce. Their need for each other was mutual. Not only was she as lovely as those flowers, but she was na?ve about the world as well. The closed doors of the nunnery kept her much in the dark. The convent had not taught her a great deal about life and how it exactly worked. He enjoyed her innocence as he attempted to ensnare her in his net. Mary fell for everything that he ever told her.
She actually believed that he would hand over a share of the shop to her one day, and it would be because of her loyalty to him, for the services that she gave him over the one year they had met and had fallen in love. Today, however, the matter just needed to be finalized, brought into the open, and completed. Mary felt confident that this would not take too long to resolve. Mark went to the back room. He said he would be out here soon and she needed to wait. Half an hour passed, but no sign of him yet. She pouted her lips and wondered what could be keeping him there. She felt nauseated and wanted to see what was keeping him.
***
Mary went to the back room and looked for Mark, but he was not there. It was now fifteen minutes after. Did he get held up somewhere? This was most unlikely. It meant that she would have to go on her own and postpone the discussion, or bring up the matter at night, which was going to be difficult. He would be in no mood to talk business at home. Her mobile suddenly rang and Mark was calling her. He said that he would not be able to make it today. That something had come up. She would have to go on her own. This news and Mark`s tone upset Mary. Mark stood her up. She thought what she could do for lunch. Then decided to hop on the next bus and take off for the next hour.
She did not feel like coming back and wanted to go to the hospital instead to meet Dr. Bringwell. Her next appointment was a few days away, however.? A few minutes into the ride, Tony walked by on the bus and sat down beside her.
"Hi there," he said.
"Hi, now let me ask you, are you stalking me or something? I`ve already told you I`m not interested in you."
"I suppose, you`re interested in that jerk. He`s just using you. You should know that."
"Using me? How do you know? You don`t know that. On the contrary, he loves me."
"Some kind of a puppy love maybe but it`s not real. I can assure you."
"Look, I don`t want to talk to you or need your assurance," she said, pulling the stop chain.
The bus stopped. She got off hurriedly. Tony watched her go haplessly. He looked at her through the double glazed window of the bus. It fogged up in no time from his heavy breathing. She looked back at him from where she was on the street. A bittersweet aftertaste remained as they parted in this manner. However, a foray of the inkling, no less, occasionally entered her mind. The force of the inkling was into him as well. The bus rolled on; they lost each other.
***
After dinner that evening, Tony sat down at his writing desk. He wrote:?
The young man pulled his wife back into the cabin of the boat. By now, the leaky boat went adrift and it started leaking even more. People jumped into the high seas from the boat. Poseidon`s wrath surged and the ocean darkened to a terrifying menace. Absolute mayhem of dunking heads of men, women, and children on the waves. They gurgled and screamed in petrified desperation. There were no lifeboats to be lowered, only a few life vests. Luckily, there was another boat nearby, a bigger one that came to people`s rescue.
People cried to stay afloat on the ghastly big waves. Their screams carried through by the tempestuous gale of the night were heard by the soul, seizing sirens, who responded unequivocally until they became a m?lange of cries in the darkness. They appeared from nowhere and took what they desired. Before they plummeted, they performed a light-footed ritual of synchronized summersaults. Then, they swiftly disappeared into the depths of the blue seas. No Mariner`s vision could be compared to this, no rime was sung, although, all the boards did shrink.
Some were taken on board. The young man and his wife were amongst the lucky ones who made it to the new boat. The others were not so lucky. Luck began to dwindle for this young couple too. The pregnant wife went into early labor the moment they were taken aboard. The turbulent waves were relentless and people threw up everywhere on the swelling seas.?
The wife howled in pain, but no one paid attention. The young husband sat by her and the birth of a beautiful baby girl soon followed. The umbilical cord was cut with the Swiss army knife that he had in his zippered shirt pocket. The wife smiled, and immediately fed the baby.?
Later that evening, still afloat, a terrible infection and a high fever ravaged the wife. The pain and the desperation were far too much for her to endure. She died, leaving the young man to take care of this new addition. On the boat, the wretched travelers gaped at them. The storm went down and the ocean quieted. The serenity was restored just as the boat reached the shores of Halifax in Nova Scotia.
Tony stopped typing. The sound of the keyboard reverberated around the walls of the lonesome space. He felt that he had become the quintessential `hollow man,` bereft of compunction even though his sin was purged and atonement made. The printouts were taken and put in his briefcase along with the rest of his manuscript.
***
Mary slept alone in her bed that evening. Mark had not come home. He did call her to say that he was traveling interstate on business. He would not return until the weekend. She woke up the next morning and got dressed to go to work. She had a pale gray skirt on and did not really care whether or not the shocking pink top matched. She ran a comb through her hair and attempted to get the knots out which hung over like a mass of tangled web.
She sat down for breakfast. Not having much appetite, was the least of her problems. Last night`s nightmare, the same recurring dream, kept her awake. She was fearful. The lights were on all night and still, she heard voices and saw thousands of crawling spiders on the ceiling space above. Shop or no shop, she could not wait for Mark to return. She was a prisoner of her own shortcomings, the caterpillar, who weaved its cocoon diligently, waiting for the day she would become a butterfly. But, as her life`s partner, she needed Mark to share her life; a life, she hoped was going to be free one day from drudgery, voices, and shadows.
She was just about to go out, when she noticed Tony, standing across from her apartment on the street near the bus stop. No, not again! But it was too late. Tony saw her and signaled that he was coming upstairs.
"What do you want from me?"
"Which church took you in?"
The words flew out of their mouths simultaneously as Tony reached her door`s threshold.
"Why do you want to know?"
"I`ll tell you later."
"Why won`t you tell me now? I`ll have to tell Mark about you."
"You think that he can protect you? You`re just a flower girl in a flower shop, eating him out of house and home. That`s all you are to him?"
"Of course not. Why would he promise me the shop then?"
"Do you think that he`ll ever give it to you? How can he give you something that he doesn`t even own in the first place? He belongs to the underworld, my dear. And, that shop is camouflage."
"What? What do you mean? How do you know? Get out of here."
"Never mind how, but that`s the truth. Now tell me the name of the church and I`ll go," he insisted.
"Protestant Orphan`s Home on North Park Street."
"Thanks and goodbye. I`ll see you soon. Don`t be afraid. You might not be alone after all."
Tony left and Mary thought wildly for a while. What did he mean by that? She needed to find out more and investigate the matter herself.
***
Mary could not concentrate that morning. She wondered where Mark had gone. As she stood outside under the awning, a BMW stopped at her shop. She looked up and a beautifully dressed lady stepped out of the driver`s seat.? She was dressed in Emerald silk skirt and a floral green matching top. The air thickened with her expensive perfume as she walked through. It reeked of an unpleasant odor, mingled with the fragrance of the flowers around.
"Good morning," she said.
Mary looked up at her curiously.
"I`m Margaret. Margaret Deshong. I`m the new owner of this shop. I have come to introduce myself. Mark won`t be the manager anymore. You`ll have a new manager."
Was Mark the manager? Not the owner? Mary felt dizzy. She sat down on the pavement under the awning and suddenly felt sick. Margaret went inside and began throwing her weight around with everyone to whom she spoke.? Mary needed more confirmation. Where was Mark now? What else did he do? She dared not ask any of this to her "new" employer. When Mary went inside to get her bag, she found the two other girls whispering in the shade of the foliage of the back room. Mary walked in and they stopped talking.
Swinging the sling bag on her shoulder, she left without a word. On her way out, she saw Margaret driving away in her flashy car. No sooner had she come home than she found letters in her mailbox. She took the letters out and balanced her bag on her shoulder. As she sorted through them, she found one addressed to Mark. Mary ran upstairs and opened her door. She flopped on the sofa, in the living room, unsure whether or not she should open them. After a few silent moment,s she opened them. There was no letter, just pictures.
These were pictures of guns and bullets that she had seen on television. She was not exactly sure what to make of it and thought about what to do next. She decided to turn on the television for news. The news would start any moment. She waited impatiently in front of it.
The news started and the first footage was on arms smuggling. Then there was Mark`s picture on television. He was in handcuffs with two other people. They were caught red-handed in the morning and charged with smuggling arms to terrorists. The police were onto them for quite sometimes.
The news did not make much sense.? It was complete gibberish, composed of `words, words, words.` She sat awkwardly on the sofa with legs joined together and arms crossed over her chest. Her shallow breathing and twitchy movements started almost immediately. She slouched and fidgeted with her clothes. She looked at her feet and kept looking at them until she began to shake uncontrollably. This was followed by the tapping of her feet. She lay down on the sofa, trying to breathe normally. She had nowhere to go, nowhere at all, anywhere.
***
Tony went to the Church and tried to speak to the clerk. He asked him about a baby girl, who should be nineteen years of age now. After searching for a while, they confirmed that maybe an orphaned baby was left in their care around that time. Could they call him later in the day? Tony agreed and decided to go home.
He took a cab. Once it reached his apartment, he paid the driver and dragged his feet up the three steps until his face was up against the door. He turned the key into the keyhole to open it. Entering noisily, his bunch of keys jingled. He poured himself a glass of water before sitting down at his writing desk.
He jotted something down with pen on paper:
As soon as the rescue boat arrived on the shore, the refugees were processed. The young man had nothing on him except for the baby in his arms. He stood in the queue with all the others even though he needed emergency help for the baby. Famished and dehydrated, the baby had become quite lethargic by now. She continued to cry from hunger and exhaustion. Soon a nurse came and took them out of the queue. The other refugees eyed him enviously. They went to a detention center and the nurse asked his name.?
"Anthony, Anthony Chang," he replied.
The nurse wrote down his name on a form she was filling out. In her clinical professionalism, she made no mistakes; no loose ends were left untied, and no amendments to be made later.?
"What do you intend to do with the baby?"?
"I want to give her up for adoption."?
He winced in pain and his face became distorted. But, he forced the words out of his mouth, with a note of finality. Inwardly, he knew that she would surely die if she was left with him. He did not think he could give her the proper care she needed.?
"Okay," said the nurse. "I`ll ask the sisters at the church to take her away. You need to sign these papers."
? "Also, could I give you this, for the keepsake? The one thing in o` the world I have to bequeath," he paused. "Please let her have it when she comes of age."
He signed the papers without any hesitation as though he was signing his soul away to Mephistopheles. The baby was gone. Many years had passed by the time he was released from detention. But, this release came with a price. Once he was out, he went knocking on every door, looking for her in every church. He could not find her. Even if he did, he would not be allowed to see her, for he had given her away.
After all these years, Tony thought that he might have found her at last. But he needed to get her away from that crook. He heard Mark speak to a fellow the other day, as he had ridden into the flower shop`s back room. He figured that Mark was involved in some kind of a smuggling deal. Tony was behind the sofa when Mary had barged in and barely escaped being noticed.
He realized that the frightened girl was out of her wits. But papers, evidence, anything, and everything regarding Mary, needed to be searched. The girl had already left the room. Tony was within earshot of Mark`s conversation.
"The flower shop is nothing to me. I am going to get out sooner than you think. My cover may have been blown by now...," Mark spoke on the mobile outside the back room. The window behind the curtains was open and nobody else noticed that Tony was there.
Tony had followed him in a cab all the way to their apartment.? He drove out later in the afternoon while Mary waited in the front. He left the cab once he saw where he lived and hopped on the next bus to get back to Mary with the dreadful news. Mary, however, never gave him a chance when they accidentally met on the bus.
Now that he was almost certain that Mary was his forsaken daughter, he decided to see her at once. It could not wait. He called a cab off the street outside his apartment and asked the driver to take him to Barrington Street. The cab arrived and parked outside the shop. He did not pay the driver but asked him to wait while he went fervently in to look for her. Then they would both go to the caf? for lunch. This was an occasion to celebrate. However, Mary had left by then and the girls could not give him any information about her plans for the day.
Tony thought he would stop by her apartment next and leave a note in her mailbox. He waited nineteen years and each moment was agonizingly precious now. The note said:? Mary, I have something very important to tell you. Please meet me tomorrow at the same caf? for lunch. It`s urgent. I`ve waited a long time to see my daughter again. We must celebrate.?
The same cab took him to Mary`s address as quickly as he could.
***
There was an ambulance parked on the street in front of the apartment building. Tony got out of the cab quickly and paid the driver. A body, a dead body, covered in white from head to toe was being carried into the ambulance on a stretcher trolley. Tony mumbled something to the ambulance driver. He looked at him blankly, not fully grasping his question. The police found her this morning when they broke into the apartment with a search warrant. They found a body of a girl lying on the sofa. She died from an overdose of sleeping pills. They found the empty bottle by her side.
The letter! Oh, the letter! It arrived, but late, so late. Tony held the letter in his hand, looked at it, and kept looking. Shaking violently, he gave it to a man who took it from him. The man read it. Tony stood paralyzed. He saw how the body was slowly being taken into the ambulance in mechanical perfection. The click, clack, and clang noises of the stretcher moved the body on a bed and neatly into position. The doors of the ambulance closed with precision at the right moment.
Nothing moved him; no tears of regret or of remorse flowed from those weary eyes. This seemingly innocuous episode transpired into such a great tragedy, but it left him vaguely disengaged and emotionally numb. He did what he was told. Followed instructions, as he climbed into the ambulance and sat down beside the body.
***
The grieving period slowly passed. One night, when he sat down at his desk by the fireplace to write the rest of his story, he opened the briefcase and took out his manuscript. He wrote:
The Church authorities wrote him an official letter with a little parcel attached to it, confirming that Mary was indeed the baby girl he had given up nineteen years ago. The parcel contained the Swiss army knife he gave the nurse for safekeeping. Mary did not want it, which was why it was never given to her. It was always in the custody of the Church.
Most untimely, a death so poignant and if ripeness was all, then Ophelia`s tragedy perhaps fared better, who at least entered heaven with a soul full of Hamlet`s love, which forty thousand brothers, could not offer. This anonymous flower girl had none from her lover. She lived to die unseen, nipped in the first blush of blossoming. The unloved bud lay inert under winter`s callous frost. However, the tragedy compounded for both in not knowing how much Hamlet loved Ophelia and Tony loved Mary, although it may bear little comparison, as one was filial love, the other was not.
Tony`s breathing intensified and his heart ached in a dull, spun out the pain. No matter how much he lamented, the unassailable facts remained that he had given her up, found her, and lost her again.?
He put his manuscript back in the briefcase and closed it with a click. Staring at the red, hot flame in the fireplace, he briefly looked at the briefcase, then unflinchingly, in an abrupt twist of the wrist he tossed it in. He gazed at it as it perished steadily, burning into the smoldering fire of the night. The story remained untold. However, it continued to be re-read in his own mind a thousand times over. This gave him an exclusive readership with his own signature on it. It was not a fable entirely, but a text of confession, of endurance, and of note.
