the ones that shape us
.
stepping stone / noun
an action or event that helps one to make progress
towards a specified goal
Earlier that day.
Jenna
My hands grow colder with every moment as I watch her occupied with her surroundings, mind moving a couple of hours back in time. We made a short stop at her flat, while she was frantically looking for her old camera and all sorts of lenses I had no idea even existed.
Do you really need all of that just to take some pictures?
Mmm...
She murmurs quietly, her mind apparently too distracted for the use of actual words.
Elle?
Uhm.. what? Oh, yes. I do need all of this, each one can come in handy, you never know.
She says as she pushes everything into her bag; the black heavy camera and all of those needed accessories, smiling at me like a little kid. I didn’t know that part of her was even there, she normally hid it so well.
***
And now I watch her intently as she wanders through the autumn park, her heavy boots scraping against the sidewalk, and leaving dents in the mud as she moves closer to the trees. I watch intrigued, as she catches the scenery, grabbing it from different angles, shifting her body and gazing both through the camera’s eye and directly at the space around her. Almost as if she’s waiting for something, the perfect moment; taking photographs of nature and the few people that managed to stumble by in this chilly weather; the wind blowing mercilessly in the faded out sun, encouraging people to stay indoors, enjoying something warm to drink.
Elle?
My gaze follows her as she gets bored with the big scenes and focuses on the details, taking a picture of a bench, a picnic table from close up, or an interesting layout of dark leaves on the ground. I shake my head again and moan.
Elle? Eleonore, come on. I’m freezing here, we were supposed to get coffee.
She looks up at me, for a moment seems to be in some other universe, and then she grins at me with the most guilty and charming smile I had ever seen - and I can’t help but smile as well. She grabs her belonging and runs up to me, slightly out of breath and with pink cheeks from the chill in the air.
Sorry, I got carried away. I haven’t done this in a while.
Yes, I can see that. You should do it more often.
I can try.
Something changes in the air and I feel her mood drop a bit, so I just grab her by the sleeve and pull her to the nearest coffee shop that I like. She groans at me but follows anyway.
_____
I watch as she takes small sips of her vanilla latte, the sun filtering through a window and landing on her hands, hugging a heavy ceramic mug. My hands lift without thinking, and a click of my old Nikon camera breaks her focus. She looks up at me and grins slightly annoyed, her eyes sparkle and it seems that just her stare brightens the place around us. I push the button a couple of more times, shifting the camera slightly, trying out different positions. Oh, these will be great. Abruptly, the lens goes black and she pushes one of my worn-out work equipment away.
Put that down and drink your coffee for haven’s sake.
I roll my eyes at her and gaze at my black and deeply sugared coffee.
Yes, mother. I apologize for the inconvenience.
I know you consider yourself funny, but it’s only in your head.
She takes another sip slowly and then gazes at me for a moment.
So, are you going to tell him?
My muscles seem to freeze for a moment, mind in sudden shock.
Excuse me?
Whatever thing that you’re hiding from him and that concerns your health, he deserves to know... even if he is overprotecting as we are all aware.
I will. Jenna, listen.
She looks at me carefully, all of her focus on me, I almost feel myself getting smaller under that intense stare.
Yes? I’m all ears.
Yes, well... I have been toying with a thought for some time now. You could say it concerns amends and me trying to fix some stuff.
Alright.
She doesn’t say anything else, just listens patiently. How refreshing, I think to myself while trying to gather my thoughts.
I’m just not sure of the reactions, my actions may cause. And with everything that I have done in my messed up life, I just don’t want to make things even worse.
I see. Is that person someone close to you. The one you want to start with?
My eyebrows furrow as I gaze at her surprised.
How did you know there was more than one?
Because I’m observant, Eleonore. And I can listen pretty well too.
She scrunches her nose funnily.
Besides, a messed up life harvests many victims. It’s just how it is.
You’re right, it does, and I want to fix at least minimum damage before... well before I can mess it up even more with my luck.
Jenna’s eyes stare back at me, probably noticing every change in my body and mind. She must have caught me slip, yet she doesn’t comment on it.
I understand. Now, is that person close to you, family?
Hmm, you’re good. But yes, very close family.
And you’re hesitant.
It’s not even a question, but I answer it anyway.
Yes.
Do you think it’s important for that loved one to know that you’re sorry?
My stare lingers on her, I never thought about it from that side.
Yes, it’s important.
There you go, problem solved. You’re going there tomorrow.
I pretty much choke on my coffee, making another spectacle of myself, this time in public. I cough for a moment, tears falling down my face. My stare falls on her, and I notice how sure she is about her words, so I just nod once I’m able to breathe again.
Alright... tomorrow.
Jenna smiles at me and looks to the counter when a display of desserts sits behind a small glass wall.
You in for some empty calories?
I watch as her lips spread in a wide grin, and I do the same without thinking.
Like you even have to ask. I will have double of whatever you’re having, but we’re sharing expenses. I’m a starving artist, you know.
She smirks at me.
I will give you the starving part.
There is silence for a brief second until the camera clicks, again and again, accompanied by her heavy groans and weak protests. I observe as she gets up, and walks over to get us things that will cause a definite sugar migraine later on. My camera lifts and shifts to the side, so I can get an unusual angle on her until the moment is just right. Click. She turns back and throws me a look meant solely for misbehaving children. Click. I look down at the camera and watch the scene on the screen. The scenery, colors and her, make a perfect Autumn. There is an intriguing idea slowly percolating in my mind, but for now, I put it to the side. I had very important plans for tomorrow that required my absolute attention.
_____
Elenore’s flat. Now.
It’s another dark morning and I wake up uncertain of my decisions, and if I could really face my past. I move up and sit on the bed; overthinking, as usual. There is agitation in my bones, squirming and nudging at my muscles, urging them to move. Irritated, I start to pace my room, back and forth, like a caged animal that needed to get out. Finally, I let myself look at the wooden dresser as it haunts me, almost calling my name. With weary steps, I reach it, gaze to its side and pull out a big envelope that’s showed behind it just a day later after developing the pictures. I blow at it, removing the dust and cobwebs that have gathered over the past week. Go on, I say to myself. This isn’t the time to be fearful, there might not be another later to do this.
____
I walk up to an old victorian house placed close to the sidewalk but in a less crowded part of town, tall oak trees on both sides of the aging building, and on the entire length of the street. My eyes gaze at it, slowly taking in each detail. Red bricks, big windows, doors with elegant glass panels. I know this place by heart. A pretty woman in her mid-fifties stands next to the front doors. She’s wearing a pale pink sweater and ordinary jeans. All of it on a slim, nice figure. I look at the shoes that are obviously from the higher shelf. Comfy but with style, I decide - as always. I gaze at the dark, almost black hair, it reaches her shoulders. Some of it pinned to the side up, the rest falls down loosely in a silky curtain. The dark color is interrupted by a few silver tones. My heart starts to pound without any warning. I look down at my cold hands and then at hers. Similar. I watch her add new soil to a plant container, so it covers the base of a now dried little tree. It will grow again when spring comes. My eyes close for a moment as I search for my voice, slowly taking a deep breath.
Hey mum.
The woman drops the plant holder and gasps, then covers her mouth with her hands.
Eleonore... what are you doing here?
Don’t worry, I’m not here to make an even bigger mess, or to borrow money for that matter. I don’t need anything. I guess I just wanted to see how you were, and I understand if you don’t want to see me. I’ll just go... sorry for barging in like that.
No, stop.
My mother looks unsure as to if she was breaking some rules. Her lips shape into a tight line, her eyebrows furrow but then she breathes out slowly; as if she just made some kind of a decision.
Why are you here, child? How... how, are you doing?
I’m not good, but I’m better, I just wanted to see you, sorry. I know that I will never earn your forgiveness.
She stops me abruptly lifting her hand, she’s nervous.
You shouldn’t have come. Your father, you know he has heart issues, he can’t be put under a lot of stress.
And by heart issues, she meant that his face went red every time he saw me, blood pressure reaching the roof.
I’m aware, mum. I have something for you... your birthday was last month.
I add when I see her expression as if explaining myself.
They’re just photographs. You can throw them away if you want, just open them first. I’ll go now.
I walk over and hand her the envelope with pictures and a big frame underneath it.
You can always use the frame if you don’t like the photos. It’s good quality, cherrywood. It pretty much busted my savings.
I smile lightly in a weak attempt at breaking the ice. The situation made me feel like a little girl, that just wanted to say sorry to her mum. In truth, that’s exactly what it was; a scared child trying to fix her mistakes.
Eleonore, I... I’m glad that you’re better.
My hand lightly rests on her arm, but I quickly move it way, feeling that I don’t really deserve this closeness.
I know, mum, thanks.
Slowly, I move back and walk away, hands deep in pockets, feeling the short conversation has already ended. I reach the end of the sidewalk and turn my head around. She still stands there gazing at me, not moving - frozen into the spot. She has been through a lot with me, not being able to get through to her only daughter. First, to talk me out of a bad relationship, then witnessing her child fall into pieces and staring at her with hate in her eyes for all that injustice that happened to her. Finally, there was just numbness in those bright grey eyes that matched her mother’s perfectly.
No one knew why she acted the way that she did. They thought it was just from loss and maybe it was at first, but it was also a feeling of defeat - as if everyone was right. That he was no good and things would end badly. That they finally got their satisfaction. First, the “bad’ man in her life, followed by his death, and shady types harassing her and her family for money. And then the final stroke. When she ended a life, and everything came crashing down. The voices, the pain, the final isolation.
There was no coming back from that. Her mother gave up last. Well, there was Phil but that was different, he was just her boss with a good heart and attitude problems. And this was a person closest to her, a person that she loved, and that she kept pushing away. Her mum. She did it, so no one else would ever have to suffer because of her. When Dan was murdered, it was her heart and soul that pained the most. Her insides twisting and bending. Her mind somewhere else. She was both numb and in indescribable emotional hurt -the worst kind of hurt - a heartache. She felt bruised and shattered from the inside. She could no longer function. And when after weeks and months of a sad existence, she managed to somehow pick herself up from the floor - it got even worse.
She covered herself in pride and looked for vengeance. She went on a witch hunt for a murderer. Not really knowing how to proceed - her mind not thinking clearly - but desperate for some kind of finalization and justice.
So she bought a gun.
At first, to feel safer, but then again she knew that it was just an excuse. She did need protection, that was true. However, the real reason was that she needed this “protection” for the day that she found him.
Her eyes start to sting and she sighs, feeling defeated and small. It was never her attention to kill him, even by accident. Her naive plan was to find him and get a confession out of him. Just to scare him so he would turn himself in. Naive. Foolish. Stupid beyond words. But she was desperate; defeated, scared, heartbroken - from that morning when she lost everything. So she made one more mistake, she went after him and found him. And then karma found her. It was ruthless in its doings, it took the last thing that she clung to. Her sanity.
I blink confused and stare at the entrance to my house. It’s empty now. She left. I sigh and walk away. At least I went there, at least I showed her I still care and never really stopped. She deserved to know that. My feet drag slowly forward, my mind all over the place. Finally, I look up and stare at the glass window of a restaurant. I gaze at my reflection and send myself a disapproving look. My long hair is combed and loosely tied up in a bun. They look soft and nice. I stare at a blue sweater that shows from under an unzipped jacket. It’s different from the black leather one, I usually wear. It’s dark green and still in a good shape - clean, no holes. Decent boots and a grey shawl to match the color of my eyes hangs loosely from my neck. Normal clothes that an ordinary, sane person would wear. It makes me feel like a clown. I stare at my own eyes in the window and slightly shake my head, putting it to the side.
What was I exactly proving here? That because I dressed well today, I was no longer a bad person that messed everything up and pulled everyone away from herself? That somehow combed hair was going to hide a murder? And the clean shoes would magically silence the voices in my head?
A heavy sigh erupts from my insides.
I wanted to show her that I was doing better, or at least I was trying to, craving to be the person that she wanted to see. The daughter she once had. And somehow those nice, neat, clothes were meant as a testimony of that. A childish attempt to make things appear better by just waving magic wands made of sticks. Another heavy sigh escapes my lungs and I get on my way. I still had so many things I needed to do. Stuff I needed to fix while I still had Charlie with me. I kept throwing people out of my life, so I didn’t know how long this was going to last. Before he finally realized what he had gotten himself into, and decided to run away screaming after all. I had to make the best of my time. More things needed to be done.
______
https://theprose.com/post/230936/with-all-my-senses (chapter 1 )
Previous 3 chapters :
22. https://theprose.com/post/306793/asking-for-help
23. https://theprose.com/post/308900/nerves-in-counting
24. https://theprose.com/post/318322/measured-truths-approach
next chapter: