was the search over?

‘Magnolia virginiana’...was his search over? He twirled the dried flower in his hand, its whiteness showing signs of fading. The collection was strikingly similar to Rachel’s arrangement. His childhood memories were hazy at best, but some retained their clarity. The vanilla scent had soothed him through those difficult years and now seemed to waft around. Three years of devoted research had brought him to their doorstep. Their initial reluctance had faded under his passionate plea; he wasn’t one to give up easily. The foster parents had been kind enough to leave him alone, in, what might be his playmate’s room.

Compromises

'She wears my ring', the lingering smile on his face announced to all the attendees at the wedding reception.

His fidgety movements betrayed his impatience over her delayed appearance.

"Relax. These ladies always turn up late, must be busy with her makeover," said his cousin shrugging his shoulders casually.

His movements eased, but barely so. His relatives had echoed similar sentiments using different words at various stages of the wedding.

"Stop asking these silly questions. Brides are nervous on their wedding day."

His nosy aunt had stated, overhearing the words exchanged by him and the best mate.

"We, girls, are expected to be shy and modest, at least on such days." The sister had butted in with her wise tuppence patting his arm for added effect.

Maybe they were right, they were experienced after all. Her quiet, solemn look, her rare glancing his way could be explained thus, couldn't it?

His heartache lessened, and he went back to standing at the entrance to the lobby.

***

Through the final touches of makeup, she twirled the diamond engagement ring on her hand. As she glanced at the mirror in front of her, the black and gold beads among other jewellery on her neck glinted back, signalling her married status.

She touched them gingerly with her finger tips eliciting a gentle admonishing from the beautician.

"Madam, please keep your hands down, the nail paint will get blotchy."

Inspecting her fingernails, the young girl sighed, “See, I have to redo it.", looking around for a bottle of remover.

She apologised with a smile, and stared at the ring instead. Little joy rather the feel of it on her finger felt like a heavy weight on her soul. Her heart still beating for another. For the charming boy with the impish grin, who had wound his way around, only to break it into countless pieces years later.

Her husband was a good man, deserving more than she could offer. They were family friends, her parents adored him as his loved her. He had always encouraged her, made her laugh.

*** 

Her transfer would take time. This year of separation would turn out to be a blessing. Looking into his adoring eyes as he took her hand in his, she promised herself, he would never know that their marriage had begun as a compromise for her.

cwc 391 need 109 more

The Wee people

You glided in, in your emerald studded golden glass slippers. The swishing of the grass gown's train; a deliberate attempt at distraction.

 "Too much green." grumbled one the members seated on the semi circular table. Untrained eyes often mistook its multi coloured embellishment for a rainbow. He secretly wished he wasn't dating.

"Energetic, not our trait." the wee woman in a nasal snarl.

The wizened, hated head chuckled happily, gathering ominous stares from the others. He ignored them as was wont to, thrilled at the prospect of a female assistant. He had tired of the bushy eyebrows and matching beards that tortured his daily vision.

"Oh my! Exquisite shoes!"  the secretary with her hand on her heart.

You leaned closer and mouthed in her ear, "Like them?  My boyfriend's gift for St.George's day." .

"English!! Ya codding me? Wind your neck in, Colleen." the older woman cautioned.

You laughed happily, throwing back your blonde hair, and showing off your perfect square gold teeth.

You moved to where the impatient trio waited, pulled out a chair, and passed your green leather across the table.

Pale hands went through the embellished cards neatly stacked in chronological order. Accompanied by sighs and eyebrows lifted in disbelief, it was passed on to the older man .

He winked at you; you winked back with a conspiratorial smile.

"Impressive accomplishments, a talented family indeed." he added with a smug look. "King Midas?" barely with holding a snuffle.

"That would have been my great-great-great grandfather. Tricking him to touch his favourite daughter was so devious." 

The snarl turned into a smirk.

"Explain Julius Caesar." the soon to be single man.

"That would have been the sister, talented duo. As Cleopatra's bosom friend, she taught her all the womanly viles."

"Who is Silas Marner?" 

"Oh...that would be my morai...can I tell a secret?"

Wizened eyes sparkled, "She never told us."

You looked at your uncle with a warningly, "She was in love with him, Espie foiled her plans."

"Dubai shopping festival? 

"That would be Patrick, he loves his gold even the black one."

"What do you bring on board?"

"The Federal Reserve vaults. Three bars for every three plus three we give them."

A few minutes of hushed conversation,

"Let's inform the President of our newest portfolio manag..."

The secretary interrupted with an "It’s Lucifer on line..."

"Tell him, the 'Leprechaun Gold Inc' are greed investors not soul collectors."

wc 400

Future perfect

The memory of that day, so many years ago was crystal clear. Her friends were seated at her home, nervously facing an irate middle aged man, whose traditional world they sought to upset. He was clutching a bunch of papers as though it was his arrest warrant, her college admission papers precisely. He was lecturing them on the role of women, which in those days meant stay at home mother and wives. The basic schooling was given simply because most grooms demanded it. He lectured on how, too much knowledge and independence in a woman was asking for trouble.

   She and her younger sister, whose own dreams hinged on his current reaction watched sadly...they had hoped for, but expected nothing different in their father's behaviour. Their elder sister had, had a similar battle in her time before losing it. Her older sisters had accepted their roles in a traditional society and household and gone on to marry. They spent their days doing what many other unlucky friends did...waiting on their husbands, in-laws and kids hand and foot.

   The young teenagers looked at the sad duo, as though silently saying ‘We are doing this for you two, why don't you speak up for yourselves?’  If only they knew how much his six children feared him? The grim remainder of sharp hits of the cane on tender hands and legs for every perceived act of disobedience and stinging pain effectively sealed their lips at crucial junctures. He was a loving, caring man but not to be bested...

  His lecture over, the papers tossed carelessly into the dustbin, he walked away for his evening prayers. The friends slunk off, not before giving them 'Sorry, we tried' embraces. She retrieved the forms when no one was looking and put them among her books as a keepsake till it was time to fulfil her fate.

  She tried again, a couple of years later to change the life path set up for her. This time with a job application in a telephone company and the alibi, a maternal uncle who cared for them. It was an opening specifically for high school graduates. But as before, her efforts come to naught. Her uncle was given permission, in a very rude and scathing manner,

"Go ahead, your sister's daughter after all. Recommend her for the job by all means."

 Every one was shocked to react, as he continued

"I wash my hands of her henceforth. Arrange for her marriage too, if you are so inclined. Just remember, no daughter of mine works and stays here."   

 The uncle hesitated, his sister shrinking in the corner, close to tears. With three daughters of his own, a measly salary the government job provided, a small house with far too many people to fit in, there was no way he could support her even if she was gainfully employed. Besides who was he to break up a family especially his sister's? He was gone too, the encounter humiliating enough in his opinion to not warrant future visits and with passing time, grew distant.

  Years later, when she held her daughter's hands as she took her first baby steps, she vowed that her child's life would be very different. She would be a friend, guide, and a supporter of all her children's dreams. As the front door opened and her daughter enveloped her in a huge hug, she knew she had kept her promise. A newer, positive chapter in her family history was being created....

cwc 582 need 131 words more

A memory

The quaint cafe had become my second home for a while now. Nothing much happens in this small town with people numbering few hundreds. And what does happen must pass this way. Sometimes a good thing, at other times not so nice for the individuals concerned. Everyone knows everyone else, the news travelling faster than those tweets I am now addicted to. At least when the ancient piece left behind by my cousin, whimpers to life.

"Hi, Sofia, how are you feeling today?" Dona never tires of asking me the same question.

"As good as ever."

My standard response never fails to elicit a warm smile from her and her friends, regulars who haunt the cozy corner just as often. Most ladies in the group lives by this side of the stream that divides this place into two...both parts of the town bearing distinct, diverse characters.

No longer look around for the owner's son Marco or the red haired girl to take my order. The food arrives at the table within ten minutes of my arrival, Cecelia's pastry for the day and milky tea. He personally serves my order every time, returning my smile with a sad grin of his. Savoring the food, wonder why an attractive guy like him is never seen with a girl.

I voiced my piqued interest to Aunt who doubles up as the land lady at my insistence, left me with unsatisfactory answers.

A cryptic reply, “He is waiting." leaves me irritated and a bit frustrated of late.

'This wait, for whom or what?' I ask the mirror which stares back.

 A glance at the worn watch tells me of the extended tea break. Need to buy a new one soon.

'Back to the shop then lest she explodes in her anxiety.'

 Temporarily, going through a slump in sale is our shop down the street, where we create bridal wear. The orders from the nearby towns have been steadily declining, blame the recession or in reality, the girls wanted designer ones. She is worried, this aunt of mine but pretends all is well and I do likewise. I been trying to get to her to explore other markets, maybe create our own online portfolio but she is strangely rigid and adamant. Not giving up yet, it’s time to pull in Roberto, her son who makes a decent living in Venice selling his photographs.

 Have learned not to leave a tip as I leave, it finds a way back into my pockets with a matching reprimand from Ceci. Wave my goodbyes to the other patrons, shuffle to the exit, when my attention is drawn to the two sets of red diner tables lying unoccupied. They remain empty even on those few evenings we come back here for dinner. Another puzzle that begs unraveling.

Walking down the cobbled square, think back to the conversation the other day. From the snatches overheard and persistently pestering Rob, gathered that the occupants of the tables were a group of teenagers from the village. A freak accident took away four of the lives while two girls survived. So badly traumatized by the incident, one has been in an institution ever since, the other having no memory of it. Agonize over the anguished families, being an orphan myself when the pain in the head starts. Funny it always occurs when I wonder about the girls.

Wc 565