Opowiadanie numer 4: People in Guyana: Chapter 1
Everything happened on the day of my forty-first birthday. Or so I think it was the day of my forty-first birthday. I never really paid much attention to my birthdays, nor to my age. Nevertheless, I suppose it was the day of my forty-first birthday. It doesn’t really matter if it was or not; I never celebrated my birthdays – they were normal days and so was that day.
I was going to the pharmacy that day. I wanted to buy some medicine for my daughter. She wasn’t very ill – she only had a slight cough, but I wanted to do something about that. I cared for my daughter.
It was dark already, but it wasn’t that late. Where I lived it used to get dark early in the afternoon. It was barely five o’clock when I stepped into the pharmacy. There were a lot of people inside; as usual. I never bothered to ask anyone why they kept returning to the pharmacy. I, on the other hand, had to – I had a small daughter. She was around six months old that day. I always carried her with me – I found it safer that way.
That day I had her with me too. She was lying, sleeping I think, in a bag made out of cotton, that I carried in my left hand. You have to understand that I didn’t like people to know I have a daughter; and that I loved her very much. I knew most people would make fun of me, if they knew I had a daughter. I lived in one of the poorest parts of the sea-side city. I knew how the people could be. If they saw a man like me caring for a little female child, they would definitely find me a sissy.
Anyway, it didn’t hurt her or anything like that. I made the inside of the bag very comfortable and I never closed it, so that she could breathe freely. I also put a lot of blankets, or what you would probably call “cloth”, on my daughter – to keep her warm and out of sight. I can assure you it was fine for her! I used to carry my son the same way and he grew up to be a fine young man.
In the pharmacy I asked for something to stop Sarah’s cough. I named my daughter after my son’s mother. She was a fine woman and it was a sad story that we had.
Sarah was from a wealthy family. Perhaps it’s not that surprising for you that I fancied that type of women. You are wrong, though – it wasn’t for money! I would never ever fancy a woman for her money! That would be what I call dishonourable. What I liked about women from wealthy families was their delicacy, their beauty, their attachment to manners, their optimism, their naivety. They didn’t belong to my world and I didn’t belong to theirs, and that’s what always brought us together.
I was a thief for the most part of my life and, surprisingly, that always fascinated those young women. Perhaps because they were always surrounded by bankers, businessmen, army men and the whole “honest and hardworking” lot.
Sarah and I met when her whole family was away. They went for a journey to another country; apparently they had some work-related stuff to do there. They left Sarah with their trusted maid and several other servants. Sarah was supposed to be too young to go. She was sixteen then and I was nineteen.
We met accidentally – I didn’t listen to my mother and went to the wealthier part of the city to steal. I managed to get a lot of wallets that day and no-one caught me. I was really happy and proud of myself when I saw a woman who was putting some money to a pocket in her apron and I decided to steal a bit more. I had my hand almost in that pocket, when I noticed the girl who was walking besides the woman I was just about to rob.
The girl, Sarah, was beautiful. She had red hair and brown eyes. Her skin looked as if she never stood in sunlight. I quickly understood why, when I saw her open her umbrella and cover herself from the sun. Her dress was light pink and very elegant. Then I realised the woman I was about to rob was her maid, so I withdrew my hand.
I was just about to walk away, when I noticed that the maid went into a meat store and left the girl outside; unattended. I couldn’t let anything happen to her. Now that I think about it, probably nothing would have happened to her, since we were in the richer area of the city. Yet at that point I gathered all my courage and went up to her.
Her first reaction, when she saw me, was that of disgust. I don’t blame her – I had shabby and dirty clothes. But I was also handsome and that was the next thing she noticed; thus she blushed.
‘Hello,’ I said to her, trying to smile gently.‘Good morning,’ she replied a bit shy and scared. Then I started blabbering something. I don’t even remember what it was. I was nervous and didn’t know what to say, so I talked about everything and nothing. I think she liked whatever I was saying, because she started smiling and she even laughed a few times. Then she asked me to look inside the store through a window and tell her, if her maid was finishing shopping there. She was.
Sarah panicked a bit, in a very sweet and childish way, took out of her small handbag a piece of paper and a pencil. She wrote something on the paper and delicately put it into my hand. I looked at her with a surprised expression on my face and then at the paper. There was an address written there.
‘Come and see me tomorrow,’ she said and smiled, ‘But don’t use the front door.’‘Then how do you want me to come in?’ I asked, putting the paper into my pocket.‘Can you climb a drainpipe?’‘I believe so.’‘Good. There’s a drainpipe right next to my window. I will put one curtain down and leave the other up, so that you know which window is mine. And I will have the light on, if it is late. Just climb the drainpipe and knock on my window.’ She smiled and told me to go. Before I went too far away I screamed my name to her and she screamed, laughing at the stupidity of doing this, hers to me. Sarah.
It’s really surprising that she wasn’t scared of inviting and unknown, three years elder and obviously poor man to her room. She trusted me from the very beginning and I didn’t want to destroy that trust – that’s why I kissed her for the first time only when I was absolutely sure that she loved me. I started loving her approximately a month after our meeting. She told me she loved me a year later.
Whenever we met I always climbed the gutter. I never used the front door. Sarah was scared of anyone knowing that she was seeing a thief and she was sure that if any of her servants saw me, they’d tell her family. Her innocence was so adorable. I respected her wishes and always did what she asked me to do. And I never even dared to do anything inappropriate. At least till she found that it would be appropriate at the stage our relationship was at.
Our first night together was magical. She thought so too. She loved me and I loved her – there couldn’t be anything more beautiful. No-one knew about us, not even our families. I knew that, if I told my mother about Sarah, she would want me to take money from her. I never ever asked Sarah for money and never intended to do so.
We didn’t sleep together much. I didn’t want Sarah to think that I only desired her for her body. Besides, I enjoyed every minute of our meetings, regardless of what we did. And so did she.
One day, when I climbed the gutter into Sarah’s room, I found her crying. I held her tight and begged her to tell me what had happened, but she wouldn’t. I imagined someone hurt her and I told her that I’ll kill that person. That’s when she told me what happened – she was pregnant. With me. I don’t know how she got to know that and I didn’t ask, it wasn’t important. I hugged her even tighter and told her not to worry. I told her I’ll help her with everything and anything.
I became a father a week after my twenty-first birthday. I helped Sarah with the birth. I put a cloth into her mouth so that no-one hears the screams. It’s actually surprising that none of the servants noticed Sarah’s pregnancy, the birth, and the presence of a baby. My beautiful Sarah had a way to hide it all.
After the birth she panicked and put the baby into my hands. And I held him. My half-Austrian son. Sarah was Austrian. She wanted me to take him; she completely lost her mind. I held her tight, still holding the baby and explained that he needs a mother more than a father now.
Sarah looked at our son and smiled. She decided to keep him, therefore she let me hold him the rest of the night. We didn’t speak of the future. We didn’t make any plans or commitments.
I took all the stained clothes and bed sheets with me. I washed them myself and returned them the next day. It was safer this way. I didn’t tell my mother about my son.
I visited my family every day. Sometimes at night. Sarah was eighteen years old and I was twenty-one. I don’t think we were too young to be parents. It was sudden, but the love we had for each other made us strong. We would have been great parents, a great family, if we would only have been given a chance.
One day Sarah had sad news for me. Her family returned and they decided to move back to Austria. With Sarah. She cried a lot that day. We both knew there was no way for me to go to Austria, or for her family to invite a poor thief into marriage with Sarah. She was leaving and I was staying.
She looked at me with her beautiful brown eyes, full of tears, and put our son into my hands.‘Please,’ she begged, ‘Take care of him. He can’t go with me to Austria. If I decide to take him, I’d have to tell my family. They wouldn’t accept him anyway. They might even kill him. It’s better this way. Take our son. Please.’
That’s when I started crying. That’s when I realised the hopelessness of our situation. She told me she’d try to come back. To me and our son. I tried to believe in her words with all my heart, but I think we both knew it would be impossible. I agreed to take our son and raise him by myself. What else could I do?
Sarah was due to leave a month after that day. I visited her whenever I could. It was difficult, because she had to pack and shop, and people used to come into her room. Surprisingly even then they didn’t discover the baby. I insisted that he stays with Sarah to the very end.
On the day of her departure I climbed the gutter one last time. Sarah looked beautiful, even though she was in a bad state. We hugged and kissed with such passion and sadness. Then she put our son into my hands, gave me a bag with some of his stuff and told me to go to the port. She wanted to see us there. Me and my half-Austrian son. I cut of some of my hair and gave it to Sarah. She tied it with a purple ribbon. Then she cut a bit of her beautiful red hair, tied it with a golden ribbon and gave it to me. Then we exchanged our last kiss and I disappeared. I don’t know where we took the courage from to do this.
With my son in my hands and a very strange feeling I went to the harbour. Half an hour later she was there. She spotted us immediately after she got out of the carriage. She kept gazing at us whenever she could. Her family noticed that, but they never discovered what Sarah was looking at. Once on the ship, she found a good place to look at us and I walked towards her as close as I could. She was crying and so was I, but we both kept smiling. A lady and a thief. And their son, who was looking at Sarah, as if he knew she was leaving.
Finally the ship started moving. Sarah waved to me and I waved to her. I even took our son’s hand and made him wave, and Sarah laughed through tears. We kept looking at each other till there was nothing to look at.
I had to return home and so I did. When my mother saw me with a baby she almost fainted with shock. I gently put my son on my bed and told her who he was, that his mother was Sarah and that she had to leave. My mother asked me why Sarah left and so I told her. She started hitting me then. Really hard. She couldn’t believe that her son had an affair with a lonely, wealthy girl and didn’t use the occasion to get some money. But the worst part for my mother was that Sarah, the rich one, left me, the poor one, with a child. My mother wouldn’t understand anything.
I went to sleep holding my tiny son and thinking of Sarah. I was grateful that I met her. She was a great person. She even left us some money in the bag which she gave to me. She also left her handkerchief, so I had one more thing to remember her. Sarah – the mother of my son.
Now I had a daughter too. Once I bought the medicine she required I went out of the crowded pharmacy and took her out of the bag. It was the very same bag Sarah gave me long ago. I woke my daughter and gave her some of the medicine. Then I noticed a pretty young lady. I was surprised to see someone dressed so elegantly in a place like this. I intended to walk up to her, but I noticed my son. Even though he was adult now, we were still very close.
He went up to me and greeted with a delicate hug – he didn’t want to hurt his little sister, whom I was still holding in my hands. We were joined immediately by Lydia.
Lydia was my granddaughter’s mother. I find it a surprising parallel – she was wealthy and fell in love with my son, who returned her feelings. He became a father shortly after my daughter was born.
‘Good evening Edward,’ Lydia said to me. She always called me “Edward”, even though I don’t think it is my name. When I was born I was named Ed. My mother must have heard that name a lot, but she never thought that “Ed” is a short form of “Edward”. Thus she never intended to call me “Edward”. It was always only “Ed”.
But Lydia was an educated woman and she wanted to show me respect. She and my son never married – therefore she didn’t find it fit to call me “father” or “dad”. That’s why she called me Edward and I accepted it, although it sounded strange.
Lydia also usually called my son “William”. Me and Sarah at least intended to name him William, even though I called him “Will” most of the time. I was Ed, but my son was both Will and William.
William and Lydia’s story was happier than any I ever had. They met in a similar, accidental way as me and Sarah, but they were allowed more time to get to know each other at their first meeting. They started meeting in a park. Even though Lydia’s family is also wealthy, she could get out of the house alone. Will took care of her, whenever they were out together.
Lydia knew my son is a thief. She also knew I was a thief even before she got to know me personally. Will brought her for us to meet each other one day. I was happy for them, because I saw that they loved each other. The next day Will told me all about her, how he met her, and their love.
On the day Lydia found out she was pregnant she left her family. Just as Sarah’s family wouldn’t accept Will, Lydia’s family wouldn’t accept her child. The difference was that Lydia was strong enough to leave her family and live with poor thieves. I know Sarah wouldn’t be able to live like that and I never blamed her for it. Besides Lydia was always quarrelling with her family, whereas Sarah loved her relatives.
While Will and Lydia were talking I looked at the pretty lady again. She looked distressed. She was talking to some scum. I started wondering how such a girl can talk to such people, but then I remembered that Will’s and Sarah’s mothers did so too. I observed her very closely. I could see that she was very nervous. She kept moving her hands in an uncoordinated manner. I could see that neither the lady nor the men she was talking too were happy about being able to talk. I wanted to see if she’s all right.
‘Will, I’m going to see if that lady is all right. She looks distressed,’ I told my son, without even looking at him. I kept looking at the girl; I didn’t want to lose sight of her. Will turned his gaze to the girl and sighed. He kept silent for a second or two when he turned to me and looked straight into my eyes.‘Do you want your heart broken again, dad?’ he asked.
In my whole life my heart was broken only twice – when Sarah and my daughter’s mother left me. In my life I had quite a lot of women. But I never loved them. They didn’t have the delicacy, elegance and beauty that my children’s mother’s had. Besides, those women never wanted me for who I am, as Sarah and Elizabeth did, but for who they wanted me to be.
My father was a pirate. Or so my mother always told me. I was very young when he left us, so I don’t even remember. Even though I should have hated him for leaving me and my mother, I always admired him. I tried to be like him; I tried to look like him. I think that somehow I managed that and a lot of women thought I was a pirate. That really exited them. Even though I never said a word about being a pirate, they always created this image of me being a pirate captain and taking them on my boat to some far away place, once they posses my heart. Whenever they heard or discovered that I am a mere thief they always left me. Sooner or later, but they did. How could I love women who pretend to love me only because they think I am a pirate?
Thus the only women I really loved where my children’s mother’s. And that’s why they became mothers in the first place. I barely slept with other women. Never more than once with one single stupid woman.
‘Father, please, don’t follow that woman. You’ve been in enough trouble already, please don’t,’ Will continued.‘He is right, Edward. I too beg you not to follow her. I’m sure she knows what she’s doing, and if she doesn’t then she needs a lesson,’ Lydia added.‘Dad, please, I know how this will end. It will be exactly as in your stories about my mother and exactly as what I saw with Elizabeth.’
Napisane przez: Ayvię 2008-01-25 15:52:51
-> skomentuj <- (1)
Update 2
A więc podczas wakacji zaczęłam pisać opowiadanie po angielsku. Zresztą nawet wspomniałam o tym poniżej. Anyways, udało mi się przepisać to, co napisałam na komputer, ale rozdział numer 1 jest jeszcze nie skończony. Jak skończę, to zamieszczę.
Napisane przez: Ayvię 2008-01-19 15:01:17
-> skomentuj <- (0)
Update
Chciałam trochę tutaj update-ować, jako że byłam na wakacjach w Polsce przez ostatnie dwa miesiące i nie pojawił się tutaj żaden rozdział przez ten czas.
Właśnie przed chwilą zamieściłam pierwszy rozdział opowiadania Czar Muzyki. Zaczęłam go pisać w zeszycie właśnie na wakacjach, więc mam już trochę do zamieszczania (kiedy przepiszę na komputer).
Podczas wakacji wymyśliłam też nowe opowiadanie, na razie bez tytułu, które też będę zamieszczać, kiedy przepiszę na komputer.
Napisane przez: Ayvię 2007-08-16 13:09:37
-> skomentuj <- (0)
Opowiadanie numer 3: Czar Muzyki: Rozdział I
Michael zawsze przyjmował wyzwania. Od kiedy tylko zaczął chodzić do szkoły miał wiele okazji pokazania tego. To owa cecha sprawiła, że Michael był tym, kim był.
Jeszcze w pierwszych latach primary school nauczyciel muzyki powiedział klasie, w której był Michael – ‘Tylko najlepsi i oryginalni muzycy osiągają sukces. A już największe szanse mają ci, którzy umieją władać wieloma instrumentami po mistrzowsku. Zapewniam was, że niewielu się to udaje, tak samo, jak niewielu podejmuje to wyzwanie.’ Nikt tak naprawdę nie wiedział, co nauczyciel chciał osiągnąć, przemawiając w ten sposób do grupki siedmiolatków, ale Michael, widząc szansę by dowieść, że jest lepszy od innych, został przez te słowa zainspirowany.
Tego samego dnia Michael zażądał od rodziców lekcji gry na skrzypcach. Jako że nie powodziło im się źle, matka i ojciec chłopca zgodzili się.
Z roku na rok Michael podejmował coraz więcej wyzwań, stając się w ten sposób mądrzejszy, silniejszy i zdolniejszy. Coraz częściej wygrywał konkursy i zawody, jego obrazy i rzeźby zdobywały coraz więcej nagród. Mimo tego, największą pasją Michael’a stały się skrzypce.
W każdej klasie secondary school Michael zgłaszał się do konkursu młodych talentów, organizowanego co rok w jego szkole. Zawsze występował, grając na skrzypcach, oraz zawsze stawał na podium, chociaż czasami na drugim lub trzecim miejscu. To jednak nie zniechęciło Michael’a i w ostatniej klasie szkoły zrezygnował z lekcji gry na skrzypcach, ponieważ stwierdził, że już nic nowego się nie nauczy z nich. Mimo tego nadal ćwiczył regularnie i starał się wyrobić własny styl.
Wtedy właśnie rodzice Michael’a zaczęli się martwić. Wiedzieli, że jest dobry w wielu rzeczach, miał dobre oceny z wszystkich przedmiotów, ale też zdawali sobie sprawę z tego, że dla Michael’a najwięcej znaczy gra na skrzypcach. Nie pomylili się, gdyż po maturze ich syn zdał do Royal Academy of Music w Londynie, wbrew marzeniom i rozkazom rodziców. Sądzili, że byli wystarczająco wyrozumiali, dając mu wybór – mógł zostać prawnikiem, lekarzem, farmaceutą albo dziennikarzem. Mimo tego Michael postanowił im się postawić i spełnić własne marzenia, czego jego rodzice zupełnie nie rozumieli.
Nauka w Londynie wiązała się z przeprowadzką, gdyż Michael wraz z rodzicami mieszkał w Birmingham. Dla chłopaka nie stanowiło to jednak przeszkody – wręcz przeciwnie, cieszył się z tej zmiany. Przeprowadzka oznaczała więcej wyzwań, którym on był gotów stanąć naprzeciw.
Lata w Akademii były dla Michael’a jednymi z najszczęśliwszych. To tam polepszył swoją grę na skrzypcach. Także, na zajęciach dodatkowych nauczył się dobrze śpiewać oraz grać na dwóch dodatkowych instrumentach – gitarze elektrycznej i pianinie. Tam też poznał ludzi, którzy stali się jego najbliższymi przyjaciółmi.
Mimo tego, że Michael starał się być jak najlepszy na zajęciach, wpadał on czasami w kłopoty w innych dziedzinach życia. Przyjmując każde wyzwanie, jakie mu podsuwano, nie raz popadał w niełaskę, albo robił z siebie pośmiewisko. Prawie zawsze udawało mu się wykonać to, co miał zrobić, ale czasami było to coś, za co nie powinien był się w ogóle zabierać, ponieważ wyzwanie było rzucone przez ludzi, którzy nie życzyli Michael’owi dobrze. Główna cecha Michael’a – upartość w przyjmowaniu wyzwań, była dla niego i błogosławieństwem i przekleństwem. Chłopak jednak nigdy nie uczynił niczego, co byłoby wbrew prawu. Kiedy odmawiał wykonania zadania wymyślonego przez ludzi, którzy chcieli, aby wylądował z więzieniu, czuł się okropnie. Michael nienawidził wychodzić na tchórza.
Always with me...
