*
It took time, but the new employees learned the ropes. They found out about Guy’s Night Out, Salina made new friends and so did her husband. Breakfast went back to being a friend’s meal together, and in time even the work system went back to normal. Strangers became friends, then family. It was a slow but sure process.
Mr Willem’s smile came back like a greeting, and the killing fields became a place of noise and happiness once more. True, only Paul and Noisy remained from the old teams, but they now commanded more respect than most.
In time Paul was promoted. As such, Noisy took the lead and became a gesturing yet efficient team leader. When work was done, Paul would come back and spend his evenings with his wife in a quiet manner, knocking metal with hammers in their own little workshop to create their own brand of conversation. Everything was as it should be once more.
As times went on, Paul would get offers to leave the factory more often, as he rose in the company ladder. Each time, the middle aged man would move his hand over his now bald head and smile, voicing a polite refusal. He remained well liked for his simplicity, and he liked others just as well. This was his home.
Paul would always work in the factory, he knew.
Story 15
Things were not going well for Thomas Hardy.
It had started less than three years ago. After a long and probably not too unhappy marriage, things decided to fall apart slowly yet surely. It was like the pressures of parenthood didn’t agree with his wife. She had started to pay less and less attention to their two children as they grew older, deciding instead to focus on herself.
At first Thomas had liked the change, for he had long known his wife to be a caring and compassionate person in general, and so liked this new version which gave herself treats, no matter if he didn’t understand them. However, as the plastic surgeries and fitness machines kept rolling in, bought at first through phone services found on TV and more recently from these E-shop things, he began to feel doubts creeping in about how his wife’s priorities were set up.
And now here he was, sitting in a nice little meeting room in some corporate law firm, staring at a nice looking table with a nice neat looking divorce settlement on it. He had no intention of signing it, despite the best efforts of the two nice lawyers sitting in front of him telling him what a monster he was.
“Mr. Hardy,” one of the two sighed, a brunette with her hair tied in a professional looking ponytail. Thomas wondered if there was a way to make ponytails look unprofessional as the lady whose name he had forgotten said, “You really ought to sign the agreement. I don’t think you have a chance of keeping your marriage and from what our client has told and shown us... well, I don’t think you have much of a chance at court.” Her face looked smug, for some reason. It gave Thomas the feeling that she already disliked him, despite them having met only this hour. He wondered what his wife had told and shown them
A small part of his brain, that particular part that was always off on its own in a corner making paper airplanes, hoped that these two people hadn’t seen or heard anything too embarrassing. The rest of him analyzed the situation in a calm and controlled manner. At least, it tried to.
“I don’t understand,” he said again, for perhaps the umpteenth time this afternoon. His marriage had gone lukewarm a while back, that much is certain, but he truly couldn’t think of a reason for this. The divorce papers had said neglect multiple times, but his wife had never said anything, let alone argued with him about his work hours. He naturally refused to sign anything without his wife’s presence in this room, and after being asked far too many pointed questions to his liking, Thomas headed back home.
His wife was not there, none of her things were except one exhausted looking treadmill. Similarly, he found that some of his own things had gone missing. Thomas ordered takeout that day, and ate the coldish noodles alone in the kitchen over the sink. When it was done, he flicked through the TV until he found a movie to his liking and watched it until emotional exhaustion took over him and sleep took him in its embrace. His dreams were haunted by lawyers, however, and he woke up on the couch well before the sun came up.
Fully clothed and bleary eyed, he called in work and made some arrangements. He took the rest of the month off, for he had his work planned out in advance and it was his business anyway, he could do as he pleased with his time.
At his tone his secretary relented, but before hanging up the old kindly lady asked him if everything was alright. “Thank you, Margaret,” Thomas answered with genuine fondness, rubbing a crease on his shirt as he paced through the kitchen, looking for milk, “I think Samantha is a little upset with me.” As those words left his mouth, Thomas found a few milk cartons. Upended into a bin. Ah.
Thomas sat by himself in a living room far too large for one middle aged man. It was still a quarter to eight, and he had no more of a plan to get his wife’s approval back than he had the night before. It was slightly infuriating in its own way. For now, he settled for breakfast, a nice shower, and notifying his two kids. Jonathan and Luke were both good kids working out of town for the time being, but the businessman thought it only proper that his kids know what was going on in their parents’ lives as soon as possible.
Thomas decided to go through this in descending order of ages, and so called Luke second. The twenty four year old had just finished his bachelor’s in business administration last year and was working in a small business belonging to a family friend in another town. Thomas spent the time between rings thinking of how he was going to phrase things before a husky and certainly sleep deprived voice answered on the other end of the line. “Hello, da-aaaaaaaahn!”
Thomas masked his smile at the yawn, remembering that Luke had always been the last to get into bed and the last to wake in this family. Other than his mother of course, for Thomas’s wife was one prone to oversleeping. She said it helped her with pimples or something similar. This thought flitted in uninvited and put an instant damp on his spirits, causing him to slump just a bit in his seat in the kitchen.
“Good morning to you too, Luke,” The businessman answered in what he hoped was a cheerful enough manner. “How has work been?”
“That’s the thing. Work’s great, and I like Mr Lebeoux well enough, but I think I’m feeling a bit homesick. I was thinking about calling you and asking if I could visit you and mom next Friday. It’s not for sure,” he added hastily after Thomas remained quiet for a bit, “I mean, if you guys are busy or something, I’m sure I can change the dates around a bit...”
“No, No, we’d love to have you here,” answered he after a lengthy pause. Thomas contemplated keeping the real cause of his call a secret until Luke came back, but he decided against doing so. It might be better to just let it all out now and give him time to cool off on the drive home. After all, his younger son was bound to think it his fault that things gone this way. “It’s just that, well, your mother and me have some things that we need to work out, I think.” At that, Thomas began to scratch his budding chin hairs as he went about trying to put things in order in his house.
Miriem, the cleaning lady, came around lunch time but Thomas didn’t like to leave extra work for her if he could help it. The business owner tidied up here and there as he went around the house. “I hope we can work it out soon enough.”
A lengthy silence took over the line. Thomas was beginning to wonder what was wrong before Luke asked quietly, “What kind of problems?”
“I- I’m not exactly sure,” admitted Thomas to his son, frustrated slightly. It was strange, being in this situation where he had to admit that despite his best efforts, his wife thought there was still something left to be desired in their relationship. Strange and a little bit of a downer.
He felt, in a distinct way, very much like a letdown of a man, perhaps even unwanted. He did not say that, however. Instead, Thomas continued his earlier line of thought. “I don’t know what’s wrong.”
Another pause. “Dad, can I t
alk to mom?”
Thomas was torn apart by this mixture of fear and accusation in Luke’s voice. “She’s... not here, Luke. To be honest, I’m not exactly sure where your mother is. She hasn’t been answering my calls. Yesterday I was called to a law firm and, well, apparently she’s filed for divorce.”
“...I’ll call you when I’m close to town.”
Thomas had no time to say goodbye before Luke hung up. The man sighed, taking a seat in front of the T.V again. He briefly entertained the thought of going out to look for her and apologizing for whatever it is he had done. He would have too, but Thomas had no idea where she could be, and since she had filed that paper, going to the police and saying she was missing probably wouldn’t work.
As he waited for Miriem, Thomas tried his wife’s phone a few more times. Each time it rang, and each time no one answered.
Thomas went out to buy some extra groceries the next morning. He decided that since he was alone anyway, he might as well buy mostly the things that he liked having. Still, the shortish sandy haired man chose to leave place for his wife’s favourite meals, just in case.
Thomas took care of himself regularly, and was today once again clean shaven. In a cardigan green as a leaf and sand smitten pants, he looked smart. In a way, it almost felt like things were moving back into gear, a new rhythm where he was a simple fifty year old bachelor. Still, something was wrong.
Thomas liked to think of his life as a well oiled machine. This machine was missing a gear now, and thus bolts and parts spun in place unresponsively, and he felt the missing piece as surely as if he were missing a leg. Thomas was beginning to keenly feel how he might have been messing things up when it came to treating his wife.
Deep in thought, he almost didn’t hear a friend call out to him near the juice isle, but caught himself at the last moment and stopped by for a brief chat before moving on.
With the groceries bought and unloaded, Thomas gave himself time to go for a short jog before taking a bath and going out to a nearby park. He’d been a jock in university, and so the jog had felt slightly familiar. Children played here and there, but this place was not as crowded as the man remembered. He wondered if it was because of electronics or parents being too worried about their kids these days, but today it seemed that it was mostly elderly men and women with their kind faces and slow shuffling feet who gathered around the single pond. Ducks came to him eagerly and Thomas threw bread in their direction, allowing himself to live the moment for a while before heading back to a bench to think. Being busy, He thought to himself.
Perhaps he had been too caught up in his own company to give his wife the love and attention she deserved. He had often heard that simple love was not enough to keep a relationship going. Sometimes you needed to actively love someone and put in effort for them. Especially for your partner.
He remembered seeing multiple movies where a neglected or abused wife left her husband, yet Thomas never thought that this situation could ever apply to him. It looked, for all intents and purposes, like he had managed to let his wife slip from his grasp by being a lousy husband. Now he had to find out what he needed to do to make things better.
Chocolate and roses wouldn’t do it, Thomas knew that much. This situation called for real effort in changing the way he appreciated his wife and treated her. She had always preferred material things, and had once been upset because he gave her a hand crafted wooden ring as a Valentine’s gift. However, she also had bought herself things, and there was little left he could think of.
Maybe he needed to be present more. They only went out of town once every other week after all, and it was only to visit a nearby place and change out of the ‘house’ atmosphere for a while. Often they didn’t do anything too special, but Thomas had thought it enough to go for a movie or romantic dinner or visit a museum, go back to a fancy hotel and relax with no housework waiting for the two of them.
Perhaps it was something to do with his body. His wife had told him a few years ago that she wanted him to not gain weight, and he had tried to go jogging every day. Sadly that hadn’t been possible, given his schedule. Did it manage to disappoint his wife this much, however?
As a husband, he felt the weight of her happiness and it was quite heavy. When she was upset with him or unhappy, it was his failure as a man and as a husband, was it not? It made him less of one. He wished he could just find her and talk to her, at least, so he could find out what he needed to do to make things right again.
When the lonely husband drove into his garage, he found two cars already parked there. Jonathan and Luke waited for Thomas just outside the door, looking more than a little irritated. Thomas sighed, regretting that he had allowed himself to reach this state of self pity. He knew what his sons looked like when they were angry, and it was easy to anticipate extra clouds in that particular horizon. Thus, he took as much time as he could to turn off the car and get out tiredly. Two sons leapt upon their father like an especially upset pack of hyenas.
“Dad, how could you?” exclaimed Luke before either could get a word in. His face showed everything from anger to confusion and he repeated the question again with a few choice swear words, coming in close to Thomas and then backing off again, looking in the other direction as he paced.
Jonathan, for his part, said nothing but looked at his father with cold fury apparent in his eyes. Thomas was flabbergasted. Sure, he was certainly at fault, but was there any need for the kind of language that Luke was using here? Besides, how did they even know exactly what happened? It sounded as if they knew more about the entire situation than he himself did.
“I... I mean, It’s not that bad, son...” Thomas mumbled the words but Jonathan heard them anyway. The twenty six year old, a man in his own right about to get married himself, gave him an incredulous look.
“There is no excuse for cheating, dad.” His words were calm and measured, betraying only the slightest hint of his ice cold rage, but Thomas felt a chill all the same. Then he took a second to process what his oldest boy had just said.
Huh?
He looked from Jonathan to Luke as understanding hit him, and everything clicked into place. Their inexplicable anger, his wife’s disappearance, the divorce papers. It all made sense now.
Jonathan and Luke both reeled back in shock as their father began to giggle slowly, then laugh out loud in a booming tone they had rarely heard before. Their mother had always told them that no one could make their father laugh like she could, but even she had never been able to elicit this type of mirth from her husband.
Finally, doubled over and dabbing at his eyes with his handkerchief, Thomas gasped, “I didn’t cheat! I haven’t cheated on your mother in all the time I knew her, and certainly not since we got married. Come, children, you know me better than that.”
Jonathan looked half convinced, uncertain somehow, but the younger of the two lost none of the accusation in his tone. “Dad, mom called me. She told me everything. She’s been suspicious for a long time, but there was never enough proof. Then she found the lipstick.” His eyes searched Thomas for signs of recognition or repentance. Thomas leaned back on his car. The silver SUV, bought back when the space was still needed for their children and their pets, gave his back a surge of warmth.
“What lipstick, Lukas?”
“Don’t pretend, dad! A purple covered lipstick, about two weeks ago when you and your lover or whatever she is were together in the house. Mom was out buying things and you slept with a woman in your own house. When she came back, you were already gone but the thing was still there, lying on the floor. Sound familiar?”
His tone was triumphant, and shockingly what he said did sound familiar to Thomas. He scratched at his chin, wondering how he should explain this. “A purple lipstick? With blue stripes around the top?”
Thomas could tell his tone had taken the two aback, but Jonathan recovered first. “I-uh, I’m not sure, but why?” By his expression, Thomas could tell that his oldest son was calculating thing
s in his head, and something didn’t add up to him.
“If it is, then it’s something I bought for your mother in the first place,” he explained. “I bought it three weeks ago because she saw something similar on TV and said she liked it. I have the receipt with me and I even mentioned it to the woman who helped me pick out the colour. If you want to, we can go check at the store. If you want to,” this last part was directed at Jonathan, who worked as a police officer, “you could take it with you and check if anybody else used it. I don’t mind.”
Both of his children, understandably, looked stunned. Thomas took the opportunity to direct them inside the house, explaining to them that if cheating was the reason his wife wanted a divorce, then everything would be just fine.
The two were reluctant for a while, but then accepted that it was all just a misunderstanding. Their mother must have not noticed the lipstick on her table, and at some point it must have gotten knocked over. When she found it, jealousy flared up and instead of talking to her husband about it, she decided to file for divorce.
It was an innocent mistake, Thomas explained, and he wasn’t about to make a big deal out of it. After all, he explained to his children as he served them orange juice (Luke liked his with the pulp), she was still his wife and he loved her much.
Jonathan and Luke were visibly relieved and were willing to call their mother and explain things to her, invite her over, and act as intermediaries between their parents. Thomas felt only the slightest hint of annoyance at how far things had progressed over this issue, as well as how fast his wife answered her phone when it was they who called.
Luke hung up after a short chat, saying “She’s going to come here, but she sounded a little worried. She hopes you don’t get too angry with her. She really sounded worried.” The father promised that he would not.
After an hour or so, Thomas heard the doorbell and upon opening the door found his wife looking up shyly at him, dressed in an elegant long sleeved shirt and jeans and pumps. The hug that passed between them felt uncomfortable, perhaps even forced, but Thomas was sure it was going to get better with time. She went inside and everyone had a nice long chat about the events of the past few days. His wife curtly apologised and said she would take care of the divorce papers. Thomas accepted her apology.
“Sweetheart, I have never cheated on you and I never want to,” he promised as Luke, who was proving to be the more emotional of the two sons, pretended not to tear up, “I spent some time thinking, and I realized that I’m not satisfied with how I’ve been treating you. I want to make you happier, as happy as I can.”
At that, his wife’s expression changed for a second, looking strange like she was about to sneeze. Then it softened and she smiled brightly. Nestled as she was between her two children on a black leather sofa, no one saw her expression change except her husband. Thus Jonathan was confused when Thomas said, “Bless you,” but his father waved it off.
The wife wanted her two children to sleep in their house that night, but both Jonathan and Luke declined, saying that they wanted to leave their house for the lovebirds. Thomas spoke to a hotel manager buddy of his and managed to get them both comfortable rooms for a reasonable price.
The entire family had lunch together that day, a casserole prepared by Thomas’s wife. It was a rare treat, for she didn’t enjoy cooking usually, but both father and kids spooned the food away without complaining about the taste. Thomas felt blessed, for the absence of his kids had left a hole in his heart, one which he didn’t even realize existed.
Both Luke and Jonathan were good kids and visited semi regularly, but it was rare for both of them to be present at the same time.
At about sundown the kids took off, leaving their parents alone for the night and promising to be back first thing in the morning. Slowly, tiredly, he began to tidy up, then realized that the house was actually tidier as usual since he had been alone for a while. The business owner had forgotten how neat he had been as a college student and smiled to himself wryly at the thought. How things change.
It did not come as a surprise to Thomas that his wife didn’t wish for him to sleep in their bedroom that night. The embarrassment she must be feeling can’t be easy to handle, he thought as he washed the dishes. When he climbed up the staircase he went to the white door on the right, Jonathan’s room.
Thomas hoped his wife felt better soon, for he didn’t relish the uncomfortable silence existing between them at the moment. Even his best attempts at breaking the ice were met with less than stellar results, and so he decided time had to take care of the rest for him. When he went to sleep, Thomas whispered, “I love you,” to the lonely darkness in his son’s room. He wondered to himself how much of that phrase was routine and how much was genuine affection.
Even after twenty five years of marriage, he didn’t know everything about its ins and outs. He wondered now if he could truly place all the blame of this incident on himself. For some reason, he felt genuine misery mixed in with his happiness at his wife’s return. How quick was she to place blame, to overreact, how unwilling she’d been to even talk about issues. Sometimes, it was like he put in more effort into this marriage than she did...
Thomas shrugged off these thoughts suddenly. He couldn’t start putting up airs and blaming others. All he needed to do was put in as much love as he could, and appreciate his wife as much as she deserved, as much as he did that first month he tried to get her to agree to go out with him. With that determination lodged squarely in his mind, the miserable man drifted off to sleep.
Thomas woke suddenly. He glanced about, taking in bearings before checking his phone. As he looked, the time changed to midnight exactly and he smiled to himself. Right on time. This was a game that he played with himself every night, when he went to the restroom. Satisfied , the business owner rose up from bed slowly, paying heed to his creaking muscles. The man stepped out of the room and peered into the darkness. A light was usually kept switched on at night for this very purpose, but not tonight. Still, Thomas could see the staircase to the ground floor well enough, it was just beyond him and a bit to the left, directly in front of the master bedroom. He took a step forward, and another, focused on being quiet for his wife’s sake, but needing to relieve himself.
So focused on his steps he was, that when something struck the side of Thomas’ head with a crash he almost didn’t register it until he lurched to his knees. The blow was weak but unexpected, and as the pieces of the now shattered vase fell about him he felt woozy. Then someone grabbed the side of his head by the hair and smacked him against the foot of the stairway’s wooden rails. Once, twice, thrice his world was rocked by the blows, but the rail didn’t crack.
His eyes blazed with stars and spots of colours, his head rang and his nose bled from the second strike, but Thomas was still able to pull his head away from the hand gripping his hair tightly. Whoever it was kicked him in the side and he groaned, but that moment allowed him to clear his head as his ribs burned with pain.
Thomas rolled right and then went to his feet, heading along that corridor. A burglar, he thought to himself. He must have caught whoever it was by surprise when he went out of Jonathan’s room. The blow came from just in front of the master bedroom and Thomas was glad that he became the sole centre of attention before this person found his wife.
He decided to keep his voice down, just in case the burglar had a weapon but was reluctant to use it, and instead the man shuffled along the hallway, passing door after door, feigning broken ribs. He only had one chance.
A dead end came up and Thomas spun around, favouring his right side heavily. His opponent walked forward, cautiously at first but then with confidant steps due to the man’s injury. Thomas waited, steadying himself as the burglar got into range. His assailant’s feet were silent upon the carpeted floor, but Thomas could now make out his short shape. Thomas had his fists bunched even as he was doubled over, heart beating wildly.
When the burglar got closer still Thomas l
eapt upwards, lashing out with all his adrenalin fuelled might, taking his assailant with a perfectly executed one two. Then Thomas stopped dead in his tracks as the person shouted out and fell over.
That voice was feminine.
The man flicked the light switch to his right, which was meant to blind his opponent after he fell over.
Lying there on the floor was his wife, cradling her now broken nose. She climbed unsteadily to her feet and Thomas noticed that her arms and legs were covered in bruises. In the distance he could hear a police siren. Everything spun around as he noticed how this would look to anyone watching, especially considering what had happened these past few days.
Thomas was rooted in place by shock, and he felt the thread of his life unravel as everything he worked so hard for all this time came crashing down. He stared at his wife and for the first time he saw her as she truly was. Possessive, manipulative, and greedy. All this time, it was him who was putting in all the effort. It was him who was tricked. The police siren came closer, and a few seconds later a rap came on the door.
Thomas could tell that she saw him break because Tiffany smiled.
Story 16
Nicholas Kind, or Nikkie as he was often called, was a happy young boy who happened to be prone to crying.
Things happened here and there that caused his delicate nature to expose itself and squeeze out a fresh batch of tears. It happened when a sad movie came on screen and nobody caught him watching, it happened when Miss Kristina told him of hungry people to get him eating his greens, and it happened when he listened to really good music.
Nikkie was a short brown haired doe eyed little boy, not too coordinated nor too smart. Everybody told him that he would find his talent some day, but Nikkie never truly felt as if anything came naturally to him, not even his lessons.
One time, Livia (who was actually called Olivia and was Nikkie’s sister) told him that when someone had a talent for something, they would know because even if they did it for many long hours they couldn’t get bored.
The evening of Olivia’s words was also the first time that Nikkie found his way into the attic. It was a musty place planked in old dark wood. A single circular window tried its best to let in a shaft of glittering sunlight, and despite most of the attic being faded into shadow he could see enough if its centre. As he crawled around, Nikkie saw stone busts and Suits of armour and boxes and paintings, wild things forgotten in dust which could take a child’s imagination anywhere. Still, none of them interested Nikkie, and they were not why that particular day was important. No, there was one thing above all else that instantly drew the young brown haired boy’s gaze, and it was a magical box basking in sunlight as if yearning for glory.
It was golden, short and wide and long, rimmed and finished in swooping golden leaves with beautiful dancers adorning every corner. Each of its four outlaying sides was of patterned varnished wood, but of course when you get that old things get caked in dust. It happens to even the most magical of artefacts. There was a trumpet like horn coming out the top side of this box, which also housed a pin as well as a black disc, which Nikkie knew could be polished so as to be as glossy as a dream. Then there was the most important bit. The young child called it a spinny thing, for he was not one to know the deeper intricacies of mechanical levers.
It started off as an experiment, him twisting the slightly aged lever and revelling at the sounds that came from the instrument.
Nikkie had listened to the music for as long as he could. A blend of instruments that he knew and ones he didn’t all rose and fell like two happy dancers. Then the music turned clear and warm like a child running upon a newly born meadow, and lastly powerful as well as ominous, a swaying pirate ship. Still he listened in wonder. Nikkie had never known that someone could take everything that was beautiful about the world and put it in song. How could such a realization not move him to tears?
“Don’t scare me like that again!” Miss Kristina scolded him later after Olivia found him upstairs. She hugged him long and hard. Apparently they had thought he’d hurt himself and she told him so.
“Can I have the music box on my next birthday?” he asked with hope casting a spell of glow upon his big brown eyes. “Please?”
Miss Kristina was kneeling in front of him. Despite them being in her office, she never sat at her desk when talking to the children, for she often preferred to remain within good embracing distance. “Why on your birthday, Nikkie?” she wondered with surprise apparent in her voice. His birthday had been last month and usually children would simply ask for a second gift in this situation.
“If I get two birthday presents, won’t that make Sam feel bad?”
Sam was another one of Nicholas’ brothers (of which, you may have surmised, there were many) and had only received a single birthday present a few months ago. Miss Kristina smiled warmly at the boy then, then asked Mister Tall, who was standing by the door, to go get Sam.
The silent man had complied and within a few minutes the boy confirmed that he had no problem at all with Nikkie having a second birthday gift. The boy’s face lit up like he’d seen snow for the first time and he hugged his brother, promising that they could listen to music together and that he wouldn’t have it too loud if he and the others didn’t like it.
Sam, who was fifteen already and so didn’t spend that much time with the younger siblings, just laughed in surprise and promised he’d have no problem with it.
From then on, Nikkie spent all his money on music. He would earn money by selling lemonade outside or by helping out with Mr Tall’s extra chores around the house. Then he would buy music players in all shapes and forms and spend hours listening to many different genres of music.
Mr Tall developed a closer bond with the boy that way, because despite Mr Tall not being one to say anything unless it was important, the child often peppered him with questions and details about his day while they cleaned, fixed things, and went grocery shopping.
The man had little hair and could often be found with his hands crossed before his chest, pondering a problem with a slightly curious smile. “You look like a big boy’s teacher, Mister Tall,” Nikkie to him once as the man fixed his gramophone for him once: His foremost form of entertainment liked to break suddenly and almost without reason once every few weeks. Perhaps that was the reason that it was originally put up in the attic. Nikkie couldn’t figure out another, for the thing was wonderful. The man looked surprised at his outburst, yet didn’t reply.
Nikkie Kind considered himself a blessed boy because of his family, for it was quite big and almost didn’t fit into their house, which was so small that it tried its best to eat up the porch in an attempt to satisfy their need for space.
In this house lived he along with his nine brothers and sisters, as well as Miss Kristina Deep, Mr Tall, and Mrs Tammsie Wide. These three people together created what could be called a space of happiness and peace for Nikkie and his siblings. They slept in batches four in each room except for Livia Grace and Sandra Sweet, because these two were girls and needed their own space to do makeup and other girly stuff, said James once with a disgusted face.
Nikkie hadn’t known much about girls and what they did behind closed doors, but he had told James Brave that Livia and Sandra were great girls and they wouldn’t do disgusting things, taking the boy aback. Timothy Smile yelled out “Yeah, dey wun’t!” and all three boys laughed. Timmy was the youngest of the four, and often did things that made them giggle. After a bit of laughing the boys settled down, because Sam Big (who was not only the oldest boy in their room, but also the oldest sibling of their house) slept early and light.
Often Nikkie spent time trying to make things easier for his older brothers and sisters by sitting with the youngest members of their family, who were four babies no older than one. These were called Barbara, Benjamin, Amanda, and Adam, respectively Warm, Calm, Honest and Wise.
With all these people in one house Nikkie rarely had a boring moment, nor an unhappy o
ne. Nikkie, Sam and Olivia generally did most of the helping out, although everyone chipped in. Sam was older and said he was responsible for helping out the people who’d raised him all this time (he was Miss katarina’s first kid in their house), but Nikkie felt that Olivia helped just because she liked being practical. Doing things like cooking and sowing and fixing cabinets were things that fit the blonde with her short hair, and she probably would have done them just for fun either way.
James and Sandra were, in a certain way, polar opposites of Olivia, and both tried to avoid chores unless they absolutely needed doing.
James spent his time being loud and pretending to be Robin Hood using branches from across the neighbourhood, shouting and jumping, while Sandra was, in her own mind, a perfectly beautiful princess. Of course when she asked, Nicholas confirmed that she was, but Sandra still often went to further efforts to dress up and look good than was absolutely necessary, causing Timmy to giggle.
Somehow a balance was maintained between these many and varied siblings, and Nicholas Kind wouldn’t have changed a single thing about any of them.
One day, Nikkie went to the restroom at night alone because he was a big boy now, and determined not to disturb Sam or James just for his needs. As the boy made his way back the corridor, wiping his bleary eyes as he went, he heard voices coming from Mrs Krsitina’s office and saw that her door wasn’t shut properly, allowing a bit of golden light to trickle out. It sounded as if she was talking in a sad tired voice and as Nikkie crept in closer towards the slightly open door, he heard Miss Kristina say, “Prices go up for everything, but the funding remains the same. I try to balance things out, but you know how it is, Patrick.”
“Yes,” Answered Mr Tall in that thoughtful voice of his. “People can’t keep donating to the same place forever, you know.”
Nikkie moved in closer in order to sneak a peek through the crack. There sat Miss Kristina in front of her table, looking worn out with her head nestled in one hand. Behind her simple chair stood the man, looking not her, but rather out the window at something that held his interest.
As Nikkie watched, Miss Katarina smiled and said, “You’re right, we can’t hog it all. It just makes things a little difficult, especially with the little ones needing so much care. A little money could go a long way.” Mr Tall, whose first name Nikkie had never known, turned around and eyed her.
After a moment of silence, he suggested gently, “I could always go back...”
“Out of the question. The university never appreciated you. I remember the mess you turned into, after...” She trailed off for a bit, a tender expression on her kind lined face. “Anyway, you’d make us money, but I want Patrick Tall close, where I can keep an eye on him. The children love you, and I can tell you’d rather stay here.”
A moment passed. “Thank you,” he stated simply, “You’re a good sister in law. We just need to make do with what we have. I’ll try to spend less.”
“We’ll just make do, until the little ones grow older. Then we can relax, having done our part.” Her gaze towards Mr Tall was the highest form of respect and gratitude Nikkie had ever seen. Before going back to bed, the boy put on headphones and played some music from a device. In his mind the scene between Mrs Deep and Mr Tall played over and over, and he became determined to help out here as much as he could.
Days came and went with Nikkie growing an inch taller and seven months older. He did well in school, as well as take care of the children so as to allow others to do more productive things. He would sing lullabies to the four babies, who were now almost two, and even Adam would quiet down from a bellow to a sniffle. He never asked for a musical instrument, for they’d be far too expensive, but he made the lack up in song.
Mrs Wide commented once that Nikkie had a wonderful voice and said it might be because he listened to so much music. “It gets in your bones, you know,” she added and the boy nodded despite not being so sure about how good he was.
Sam had grown old and smart enough to fix knickknacks and electronics in other people’s homes and Livia helped take care of many chores. Things seemed like they were settling down slowly but surely.
Then one day, Nikkie came back from school to find Mr Tall standing in the doorway. “Kristina wants to see you,” he said after exchanging greetings. The man looked at Nikkie as if trying to memorize his face.
“Yes Mr Tall. What is it about?” asked the little boy, but his taller counterpart smiled mysteriously and walked away.
Nikkie didn’t even put his bag in his room, but rather went straight to Mrs Kristina’s office with it still slung upon his back. Maybe she was finally going to let him do singing shows in the neighbourhood for money, so he could contribute to the house.
When he knocked on the door and walked in, there sat two strangers with Mrs Kristina, one a man with glasses and the other a woman who also had darkish hair but more of a heart shaped face. They were both dressed neatly, and their clothes seemed of good quality, if not meant to show off wealth.
“You wanted to see me, Ma’am?” he asked.
“Yes indeed, child. Come on in.”
The boy closed the door shyly behind him, wondering who these two people were. They looked at him as if they already knew him, and each smiled encouragingly. “Nicholas, these are Melissa and Robert Van Der Faal.” Nikkie shook hand politely with both, asking them how they did. Both had strangely coarse fingertips. “Mr Van Der Faal,” added Mrs Deep, “is actually a relative of your mother’s. A cousin, did you say?” she inquired of him and he nodded.
“Exactly,” answered he, and Nikkie marvelled at how smooth and deep his voice was. The man turned to Nikkie, since it was he the thin man was talking to. “My cousin was a... sad person. When she had you she couldn’t take it. She ran away, stashed you next to a hospital, and never told anyone about it. Luckily you were saved, and then raised in this wonderful establishment.”
At that Robert gave Mrs Deep a nod of approval, and the old lady seemed extremely pleased. She loved this place more than anything, Nikkie knew. The boy had known that he was abandoned, of course. All the children in this house had been, and that’s why Mrs Kristina was allowed to give them last names. Nikkie was glad to meet real relatives for the first time, and both seemed nice. Before he could ask how they found out who his mother was, Robert’s wife answered. She had a slight accent, as if she wasn’t from this country but still spoke a lot of english. “When she... passed away, we found out about you. She might have been weak-“
“Ah Melissa...” Said Robert tenderly.
“You don’t abandon children, honey. Ever.” She looked adamant, and after a second Robert sighed in defeat. “She might have been weak,” repeated Mrs Van Der Fall quietly, “But she never forgot and never forgave herself. We found a diary, and one page explained exactly where and when she’d left you.
“When you grow older you can have her diary. The thing will tell a lot about her, but you’re too young for it as of now.” Nikkie could offer little in return. He’d never known his real mother, and so felt little emotional need to know what she was like. Mrs Wide had always said that it’s not blood that makes you who you are, but what you do and what you want to be.
Mrs Kristina took charge then, seeing Nikkie’s silence. “Through the records, Mr and Mrs Van Der Fall found you, and came to visit here.”
“That’s very nice,” said Nikkie earnestly, “Thank you for coming, Mr and Mrs Van Der Fall.” He wasn’t sure if he should call them something like uncle and aunt, but just then something else stole his attention, for all three adults in the room looked at one another.
“Nikkie, I don’t think you understand,” said Robert, “We were talking to Mrs Deep, and... we want to take you to our home.” Nikkie looked from one to the other. Take him home? Have two real parents just for himself? Things didn’t happen like that. “Mrs Deep is strict about who adopts her children, but we seem to fulfil her requirements.
“We are related, have a nice house and rel
ationship with one another, can afford to send you to a good school. And,” he added finally to his wife’s peaceful nod, “We would love to have a child, especially one like you. We learned all about what a wonderful boy you are here, and how much you love music.”
Robert showed off fingers with hard skin on the edges, as did his wife, “We are both musicians, and can teach you. We could have a great time together, if you so choose.” All three looked at him expectantly. The image of him playing many varied instruments with these people, living the dream that he always wanted to wake and see, seemed like almost too much for Nikkie to comprehend. It was all better than he’d ever imagined, because of course every orphaned child imagines being adopted.
Both of his new prospective parents seemed kind and eager to have him, as if he’d just been dropped from heaven on a harp’s note. Then Nikkie thought of other things.
“I am sorry, Mr. Robert,” he said in a shaky voice finally while staring at his feet, “I can’t come live with you. I’m sorry. Thank you for asking, and you too Miss Melissa.” All three looked stunned at his answer. Mrs Deep called his name in a shocked voice, but Nikkie kept his eyes stubbornly glued to his only pair of shoes as he excused himself and left the office, closing the door softly despite his fists being clenched into hard little knots.
He fled to his room. Luckily none of the other children were there to see him cry. He’d blown it, destroyed his chance at a life with these wonderful people. Like a horrible child, he’d probably hurt their feelings too. He didn’t think they’d ever want to see him again.
Suddenly, a knock came on Nikkie’s door, and when he spun there stood Robert and Melissa. “May we come in?” the man asked Nikkie and the boy simply nodded, dumbfounded. Each came and sat at his bed’s sides. They hugged him simultaneously upon seeing the tears on his face and pillow.
They chatted for a bit, about school, what he did at home, his gramophone and other music players, how he liked to sing lullabies. They also shared a bit more about their lives, how neither could properly cook but how they always tried, and about Melissa’s flower and bird collection at home.
“We understand if you don’t want to live with us,” concluded Robert, and Nikkie’s heart skipped a beat, “But we would still like to see you. Can we, say, come to visit sometimes and teach you how to play the violin or something? It would be a shame to lose connection with a wonderful boy like you, especially since we’re related.”
They still wanted to see him. It was all much more than Nicholas Kind could handle, and so he started crying again. “It’s not that I don’t want to live with you,” he sniffled. “I can’t!”
The two looked perplexed. “But Mrs Deep said-“
“You don’t understand,” he explained with thrumming vocal chords, “Our home doesn’t make enough money because people donate in other places. Mrs Deep and Mr Tall were talking about it once and I heard them. They need me to help with chores and babysitting for Adam and the other babies. I need to help Mr Tall and do well in school and then maybe try and make money to help out. And I grew up with Sam and James and the others so if I leave them alone they’re gonna miss me and I’m going to miss them and they will have to work extra hard at home, so I can’t leave, even if I want to!”
As Nikkie’s floodgates opened and he confessed everything, Robert’s face slowly changed. Nicholas would have expected him to perhaps be angry, or look sad, but instead the man gave the child a strange look. “Nicholas kind, you were aptly named... What a wonderful boy.” Melissa was crying by then, but she was also laughing and she looked at him in a strange manner that he couldn’t place. With a surge, Nicholas realized that this was the look he had seen Mrs Deep give Mr Tall that night in her office: A look of open admiration.
“How about this?” suggested Mr Van der Fall gently. “You come live with us, and all three of us can help this home. Me and Mellisa have money to donate, don’t we honey?” She nodded, still laughing with tears in her eyes, and Robert continued. “We can also come visit here once a month so you can see everyone, and we can organize music shows where the money goes towards this house. This way you can always help this place, even as part of our family.”
Nikkie couldn’t believe what he heard. Despite his face being lined with tears, the boy grinned wide and leapt into his new father’s arms. It was like he’d heard music. “Can we really do that?” he asked in disbelief.
Robert and Melissa assured him that they could, and Nikkie knew that from now on, he was going to become a very happy boy indeed.
Story 17
Erina was not having the best of days.
She rarely did, but it seemed to her that this one may trump even that one time in sixth grade. That particular day she had been on her way back home on her birthday, only to find a run over puppy on the street two blocks away from her home. She had rushed to the poor thing, for she loved animals so very much. Back then, there was only one thing that she’d loved more than puppies in general.
Her own puppy, Oreo.
Yeah, reminisced Erina as she made her way through the school hallway, ignoring pointed stares and far more pointed pointing by fellow high schoolers, that was a really bad day. She tried to keep her eyes planted firmly on her feet, and not on the thing dripping from them to the floor with each squelch of her admittedly well worn shoes.
School tiling went on and on across her vision, and she used the familiarity to forget what was happening. Just as she was getting used to ignoring the whispers welling up from all sides, an older pair of shoes entered her line of sight. They were brown, classic in a certain older man sort of way. The shoes met at the heels, each pointing in a different angle. Erina had a sudden urge to draw a line connecting those points so as to complete what was sure to be a beautiful triangle. A chuckle almost escaped her then, until she remembered that she was currently covered from head to toe in orange goo. Oh no.
“Miss Sultre,” gasped Mr Chroe, a vice principal who liked to give more trouble than he got. He reminded Erina a bit of a bald headed eagle just because he had an expanding patch of bald blossoming through his impressively thin black hair. He was due for a comb over. “What do you think you’re doing to this hall?” as the sentence progressed, Mr Chroe’s pale face remained bloodless and expressionless, despite his voice rising at least an octave in pitch and volume.
She kept her eyes downcast as she mumbled something about really meaning the hallway no ill will before the thin yet pot bellied man marched over and interrupted her apology with a firmly clamped hand upon her wrist. Erina was dragged over to the principal’s office in quite the inelegant fashion then, despite the fact that she would have gone with Mr Chroe anyway, had he simply asked.
At the principal’s office, Erina then stood at the receiving an of a tirade, reminding her yet again that she was a “special case” of a student, and it was only due to her mother’s and principal Lee’s acquaintance that she had been admitted to this school. Well, that and her merit scholarship.
Principal Lee’s round kind looking face contorted into a mask of rage as she reminded Erina that usually, people of her particular financial situation were not permitted into such a prestigious school such as saint Hert’s. She needed to keep her behaviour on par with her grades if she wanted to have any chance in keeping this lucky chance grasped firmly in her hands.
Erina nodded along unhappily, keeping her eyes on a peculiar stretch of patterned carpet sitting halfway between her shoes and Mrs Lee’s mahogany desk. Erina assumed it was mahogany at least. She wasn’t who was well used to expensive pieces of furniture worth about as much as her entire room and then some. Besides the principal’s high pitched wail, the only sound in the room was the careful squelch of the girl’s shoes as she shifted her feet.
As she left the principal’s office, Erina caught a whiff reminiscent of lavender somewhere off to the side. She took her eyes off the ground , spinning around slowly as she did to face a gaggle of giggling girls a year older than she herself w
as. Her fears confirmed, Erina looked back at her still sodden shoes.
The leader of the pack, Rebecca Miller, broke off just enough from her companions to put herself in Erina’s personal space. She spoke just softly enough that no one around other than her own group and her intended victim could hear. “I knew you wouldn’t tell. You don’t have it in you and you never will.”
Erina kept her eyes off the blonde, her mouth clamped shut. She had learned long ago what comebacks got her. However, this silence seemed only to anger Rebecca, and she snapped, “Look at me!” Erina did, brushing her red mane of hair away from her face as she mumbled an apology. One of Rebecca’s entourage, a vest wearing short haired girl of slight African heritage, smirked and egged her queen on.
“Come on, Becca! You gonna let her look at you like that?”
In return, the fair girl raised one of her hands, her blue eyes turning from sky blue to an almost ocean dark shade in her anger. Consider her egged on, Erina sighed internally, wishing for this day to be over already. She closed her eyes in expectation just as a bell rang and high school kids flooded the corridor like a giant infestation of ants fleeing an open flame. A couple of seconds passed. Opening her eyes, Erina saw Rebecca point a finger inches away from her face instead.
The blonde smiled in a way that made her appear almost feral and took half her gene gifted beauty away. “I’d keep you after school for punishment, but you stink. Well, at least your smell matches your personality now at least.” With that parting shot Rebecca Miller and her wild gang strutted off smugly, parting the crowd before them as if it were an ocean.
Erina headed the other way faster than she intended, hoping that they didn’t change their minds about hurting her today. Of course Rebecca wouldn’t strike her face in public: she cared too much about her image for that. Besides, even in their punishment sessions in private places, where they tormented Erina for her own shy personality and reluctance in speaking to others, her fidgety nature, anxiousness, and everything else she already loathed herself over, face strikes were rare.
Erina rubbed her bruised abdomen absentmindedly as she thought back to yesterday’s afternoon of getting held up by two girls while another took her for a sandbag. Rebecca watched of course, for she had delicate hands, and when at all partaking she used a pipe or stick or something. “Natural birth control,” Erina mouthed with a wry smile. That was what it was referred to as.
The redheaded girl left the school grounds out a back way, passing through a meadow of no real consequence beyond being littered with left over burger wrappings. As she went, however, Erina heard an odd muted thump coming from somewhere off to her right. This sound came from behind some trees and, thinking there was naught that could really go worse for her today anyway, she shuffled her orange gooey self closer inch by inch.
With no sound to chase her off she gained confidence and rounded about one of the trees. A boy sat there with his back to her, in simple blue jeans, black T-shirt and a shirt over it to cover up his lean frame. His hair had a natural scruffiness about it that made Erina want to run her hand through it, and his eyes were downcast as he cut into a small block of wood, shaving into it.
The block of wood didn’t look like anything yet, but his nimble fingers moved his pocket knife with both determination and apparent experience. This boy, looking about her age and vaguely familiar, was so transfixed by his work that he didn’t notice her standing mere feet off to his side
As she watched him, however, Erina inadvertently shuffled her feet in place, eliciting both a squelch and a startled gasp from this strange figure. He quickly hid his block behind his well shaped frame as the girl tried her best to stammer out an awkward apology.
Before Erina could come up with the “s” in “sorry”, however, the boy pushed his hair out of his eyes, looking all about him in an almost nervous fashion. “Did you see that?” he demanded finally, when he was convinced that none but she had seen him.
“I-uh.. umm.... yeah, a little...” Erina replied in an almost nonexistent voice. She thought about backing away slowly, maybe breaking into a run if worst comes to worst. The boy looked wild in the eyes. To Erina those big blacked gems of his looked almost hungry, but something stilled him as he stood up slowly. It was as if he had come to a conclusion of some sort.
All of a sudden Erina felt less nervous than she usually was. To her surprise, the boy pleaded. “Please, don’t tell anyone you saw me do that. I have to practice out here because at home my dad wants me to be a football player.” The words came out in a hot rush despite the calculated look this boy’s face sported. She was surprised at how husky his voice was. It was pleasant in a musky way. Then again, most of him reminded her of a forest in one way or another.
She was just starting to actually register his words when the boy continued, “I can’t pick up anything because he wants me to practice all the time. I can’t let him find out about this... I just can’t.” The black haired boy’s voice cracked just then for an instant, causing Erina to immediately decide that she’d help him in any way she can.
This decision was solidified when the boy pulled up his shirt to reveal bruises upon well defined abdominal muscles. Those weren’t caused by teenage girls, Erina judged based on the colour. For perhaps the first time in her life, she felt needed in a concrete way, and her lips pursed in determination.
“I... I won’t!” she promised with real sincerity in her voice. Then she decided on going a step further and added, “Can I keep watching while you work?”
The boy looked horrified. He recoiled as if she had asked him to strip his clothes off, his hands automatically reaching for his pocket where a decidedly block shaped thing protruded from his jeans.
“Uh, you don’t have to, if you don’t want to. I mean, um, I’m sorry.” Erina said this rather softly so as to assure the boy of her good intentions, only stammering a bit at the end.
After a few seconds of thought, the boy replied hesitantly. “Okay... by the way, you’re orange. Is that goo?” Suddenly Erina remembered why she had chosen this way home in the first place, and stumbled about a bit in place, flustered in trying to explain while mouthing off words in a barely audible tone. He watched her for a bit with his big black eyes, surprised. However, instead of backing off like most people do when she got too worked up, he laughed. It was a long and deep laugh and it calmed her down in no time at all.
When he had finished, the boy put his hand out in friendliness. “I’m Tom, Tom Parker.” Without even thinking Erina took his coarse hand with its long nimble fingers in her own, realizing that she had finally made a friend after six long months of being in this school.