K-OODI Magazine March 2016, Issue 4 | Page 56

Mean looking woman from social services in her grey wool coat and pretty gloves, she grabbed her, shoved her in the car. Carla cried and pounded her tiny hands against the window as they drove away. Daddy! Orphanage. Punishments. Her new father John. And her new mother Sandy who frightened her. The day John died in a car accident. Sandy sleeping through the days, months, years... drinking and smoking and shouting at her, waking her up in the middle of the night just to blame her for everything. Daddy's smile. Fire. I shouldn't have left daddy. Fire! Fire! It was not my fault! Carla sat down, exhausted by the memories, still holding the vase in her hand. Her eyes were glassy and distant. She sat there, quietly. Staring at the wall. Staring at nothing. After a while, the images and voices left, and she bowed her head. Tears ran down her face. She coughed, just to open up her paralyzed airways and wiped her eyes like a mourning widow, took a deep breath and got up. She knew where to put the roses now. She walked up to the biggest wooden drawer, rearranged some of the photographs and lowered the vase in the middle of them. There. Her hands were shaking and she rubbed them against her thighs. Calm down, Carla. She gazed upon the photographs, the familiar faces: men, women and children. She touched some of the frames gently and smiled at them. Her family of strangers. She had bought the pictures from an antique store when she arrived in Waleford as a young girl. She had gathered money for a long time to run away from Sandy who over the years became more and more abusive. She stayed with the woman she could never bring herself to call "mother" until she was old enough to take care of herself, so the police wouldn't track her down. Not that Sandy even notified them. She was probably happy I left. But life in a new town was still lonesome. She didn't know a soul and because she was socially awkward, secretive and enjoyed a solitary existence she never really met anyone. Then one afternoon she entered an antique store on her way home, just to admire the beautiful things. And she discovered a bunch of old photographs for sale. Right then and there she decided to create a family of her own. She went through all the photographs and selected the ones that made her smile, over time she bought frames and scattered them all around her then stoic apartment. She named each one of them, imagined they were her aunts and cousins and what else. She created entire life stories for them, and most importantly, memories where she had been happy with them. All her life Carla had felt alone, ever since the fire. And maybe because of the explosion, she always hated loud noises. Her love of silence is partly why she ended up working for Mr.Morris secondhand bookstore. Her first job as a secretary didn't support her very well, especially because she wasn't very good at it. She kept making mistakes and got into trouble for all sorts of things. She never got a proper education because in her youth, women married their lives. And she was just an orphan girl. It was starting to look rather imminent her career as a secretary would come to an end. It worried her. She needed the money. To console herself, and perhaps, to escape her circumstances, she often wandered to Morris Bookstore in the east side of Waleford. She spent countless hours between the shelves, inhaling the smell of old books, trying to figure out what to do with her life. She enjoyed observing people and would often sit in the back of the store and read. Over time she started to know where everything was and when people were looking for things she helped them, mainly because Mr.Morris was an old man but also because he allowed her to read books for free. Mr.Morris made a note of her attitude and after a while he suggested she'd come and work for him. Mr.Morris couldn't pay much either but she took the job because she felt comfortable there. Mr.Morris was a gentle soul, a true gentleman in every sense of the word and he taught her a lot about life. He on the other hand was happy to have company, someone to help him with everything. Mr.Morris was a lifelong bachelor with no family of his own. They got along marvelously and when Mr.Morris passed away, Carla inherited all his assets, including Morris Bookstore. That was fifteen years ago. Running a bookstore suited Carla though business wasn't very good. People just didn't read books like they used to. But since Carla owned the space as well she didn't need to sell much. She only needed to make enough to pay her expenses. So she got by. She often thought of Mr.Morris. Heaven knows