Broken Pieces

A woman stepped down her stairs on the outside of her shabby apartment complex, a bundle within her arms. She had waist length, frizzy dark brown hair and almost translucent skin. Her eyes, set a little bit higher next to her long, pointed nose than normal, were a peculiar color of blue. She was dressed in natural colors, mostly ranging in tones of browns. The shawl wrapped around her thin arms shielded her and her bundle from the wind that threatened to take them away at any second. Her dress, a light tan cloth that went down to her knobby knees, swayed in the wind, freezing her legs and dirty bare feet.

She walked, with her shoulders caved in towards her heaving chest, forward and turned sharply to her right. The sidewalk she was on was wet with rain that had just stopped and faintly colored with remains of chalk from the children of the other apartments. Much to her disappointment, she could not see these colorful pictures any more, for they were too far gone by now. With a sigh, she kept her head up and kept her priorities straight as she could manage; she was on her way to the orphanage where she would give away the best thing that had come to her, even if it was from a terrible experience.

The road next to the side, lined with bare trees, was quite busy that day, cars flying quickly through the street that lead to an intersection that went straight into downtown. With impatience, some honked at others who were driving slow, nervous from the rain that still lingered on the asphalt.

It ached her to have to listen to other’s anger, and she itched to yell at them. Alas, her daughter, wrapped up in the woman’s finest shawl, was asleep and wasn’t to be woken up until a later time.

The young mother fought herself to not glance down at her daughter’s sleeping face, for the last time. It would just complicate things that needn’t be hard any further. Money had run scarce and she had starved to herself to feed her daughter, whose name was Ophelia. Even then, the state of things had grown even worse.

Her plan was to drop her Lia off at the orphanage, and pick her back up once things had brightened up. She wouldn’t have her daughter raised in one of the worst environments for a child to live in.

She pulled the shawl wrapped around her own shoulders farther over her, hiding her baby from the sprinkling rain that sprouted from the clouds. Risking her own well-being for her child’s, she stopped and fixed her little bundle so that the shawl acted as a cave that she would be in; which meant the woman’s back, half showing from the pathetic dress she had made to substitute for proper clothes, began to grow goose bumps from the dropping temperature.

Looking back up, she continued on her way, water splashing her legs when she stepped in puddles. She could just faintly see the corner of the street, the vivid Stop sign protruding from the grey morning mist.

The woman shivered, ready to finish her dreadful task. She quickened her pace and huddled her baby closer to her chest, her shoulders breaking the wind apart as it hit her from the back; the sneaky bit of nature, trying to catch her off guard.

The bright Stop sign seemed to grow closer a lot quicker. Glancing over her shoulder, she noticed her railing up the stairs to her apartment doors was quite small, and hard to see as she squinted. She huffed and turned back around, almost running into a young college student. He jumped back, holding his coffee out to the side as it dripped slowly. His green eyes were big behind his thick, rectangular glasses. Lips tight, he stepped to the side.

“I’m quite sorry, miss,” he held up his yellowed newspaper as an excuse and shuffled on, tucking the paper under his arm and running his hand through his black spiked hair.

She hadn’t had the chance to mutter her apology and it stamped its place on her skull, adding to her guilt-list she had etched like a tattoo on her head. Shaking her head to rid of it before she thought too much on it, she walked faster, keeping her eyes ahead of her now.

The tall and wide sign post was coming up, just as the orphanage across the four lane street with trees lining the middle. Just noticing those skinny and quite tall trees, she wondered their purpose, but shooed the thought away. They were there for decoration, probably.

Shrugging it off, she came to a stop on the curb in front of the stone crosswalk. She edged out, looking both ways along the T-shaped street lay-out. Empty, she scampered across, checking each lane as she went.

On the last lane she had reached, a car had slowed down right when she passed it. Seeing its increasing speed, she had sprinted across; if she hadn’t, she’d been flattened across the road.

With a sinking feeling, she knew she’d be better off dead. The world was just too small for a big failure. She soiled everything, really, that became precious to her. Lia, on the other hand, it would be torture to have her die so young, with her life set out faintly in front of her.

She leapt smoothly onto the curb and glanced to her right, where she could see the orphanage gates open, taking up most of the sidewalk space. A deep breath and she set off in that direction, keeping her eyes on the cheery gates.

As she grew closer, she prayed that everything would go perfect for Lia as she grew up, waiting for her mother to finally take her home. She planned to write a letter to her daughter, explaining the promises she had listed out in her heart. Lia could hold onto that, a piece of her mother with her love lacing her words. Yes, yes, she would have that chunk of heart until her mother had everything straightened out for her to return.

She stepped around the gates and faced a courtyard full of statues and bushes styled to resemble certain things she didn’t really understand. A path lead straight to the double doors up a few stairs, which were all painted upon in ranges of colors. Smiling to herself, she walked quickly as the drizzling rain began to fall harder on her.

Leaping up the steps, she froze at the door. She lifted a hand and knocked thrice. At that precise moment, an aged woman opened the door. At the sight of the young lady nearly drenched and a baby in her arms, somehow warm and dry, she stumbled backwards, opening the door wide.

The aged woman ushered the other inside quickly and shut the door behind her.

The orphanage office was a warm, large area with two staircases, that which were facing the young woman, were in the back of the room and teal walls. The stairs were wooden and gray and led to two doors.

In the area close to the doors, there was a little seating arrangement to her left, all by a nook made of large windows. There were several comfortable looking chairs, all plush and floral. Flowers decorated the little side tables that were set in odd places around it.

To the young woman’s right, there was a desk, large and the same color gray as the staircases. It wasn’t very tall; it was only to her waist.

The aged woman swept the other over to one of the floral arm chairs and pushed her down in it. Muttering, she looked around, nodded, and shuffled away behind the desk to a filing cabinet hidden beneath it.

Looking down at her baby, the younger lady sighed and took off her shawl that was lightly damp with the rain. She tossed it to the ground and repositioned Lia in her arms.

The other woman came back, a thick tan blanket in her hands. She unfolded it and wrapped it around the other’s shivering shoulders. Sighing, she leaned into it, cuddling her baby to her chest once more.

“Would you like some tea? Mayhap some crumpets as well, they’re freshly made,” she spoke in a sweet, friendly voice that reminded her of what home should be like.

“Oh, yes, please.”

“I’ll only be a moment.” She shuffled off.

True to her word, she was back within minutes, carrying a brass tray of cups, a kettle, and a plate stacked with crumpets. She set it down on one of the side tables and dragged that over to the chair. “Here you go.”

Leaning forward, the younger woman picked up a crumpet and gnawed on it as the other began speaking, “Miss, what is your name, by chance?”

“Rose,” she said after swallowing part of the crumpet. She gently picked up one of the cups of tea and sipped slowly from it, liking the feeling of something being in her stomach.

“So, Rose, why have you come?” Her eyes raked over the ragged young woman, with slight judging brown eyes.

After a sip of the hot herb tea, Rose looked up at the woman, sighing. “I was planning on keeping her here until I had enough money to support her. But, I’m not exactly sure if I’ll ever have enough. I was actually hoping that you wouldn’t set her up for adoption until I’m positive that there’s no hope for me.”

“I see. Who is our lovely edition?”

“Her name is Ophelia, but I call her Lia for short.”

“Oh, a beautiful name. And how old is she?”

“Almost 1 year. Her birthday is October 17.” Rose muttered, glancing down at Lia, who was beginning to stir.

“So it’s coming up then? She’s quite small. It’s not normal if you can hold her like that at her age.”

Rose just shrugged and scooped up another crumpet. “It’s alright if I have her here?”

“We usually never accept children under two years, due to our lack of hands to care for those who need it often. But, by your obvious desperation, I believe I can make that exception just this once.”

“Oh, thank you! Thank you so much! Um, do I need to do anything?” Rose sat straighter in her chair, finally seeing hope in Lia’s future.

“Yes, I have a small stack of papers for you to fill out for me. And, if you want, you can come see the room she’ll be staying in.” Dipping her head to Rose, she stood and left to go behind the desk and rifle through a drawer.

Rose pulled Lia out from her little protection cave and set her on her lap. She stared down at the sleeping girl’s pale face and sighed, wondering if she was doing the right thing. But, before she had the chance to even think upon it, the woman was back, a clipboard in one hand and a pen in the other.

“Here you are, Miss. Just fill out the first page, front and back. The rest is really nothing, actually.” She handed it over to Rose and then sat down in the chair opposite of her.

 

After ten minutes or so, she had finished the packet, which was more than just nothing. She handed it over to the woman and relaxed back into the plush chair.

“Thank you. Now would you like to see the place Lia, her name is, will be living in?”

“Oh, yes, sure.”

Rose picked up Lia, set the sleeping girl on her hip and let her head rest on her shoulder, and followed the woman around the corner of the nook and up the gray staircases she’d seen earlier. Each step had some sort of faint creaking noise, and each one made her flinch.

They walked through one of the doors and down an empty hallway, filled with doors on each side. The woman stopped at a door and opened it quietly with two fingers.

They shuffled in and Rose found herself staring at something along the lines of a nursery. There were a couple cribs, but most of the room was taken up by beds. In the corner, a large section was cut off by a small fence. Inside it was a bunch of toys and drawings all over the floor and walls.

“She’ll have this crib here,” she set her hands on a pink crib a few feet away from the window, which was locked. “It’s not made of real glass, by the way. It’s okay.”

 

Moments later, Rose was on the threshold of the orphanage, staring back at Lia in the woman’s arms. With a pained expression on her face, Rose whisked out of the warmth and into the cold outside.

She began her fast-paced trek to the crosswalk, which she sprinted through, and she hurried through the heavy rain to her apartment.

Rose leapt up the stairs, beneath the arch, and pushed through the heavy door into the smoky hallway, reeking of some illegal substance. Shaking her head, she ran up to her apartment. She flung open the door and tossed herself on the empty carpeted floor, crying her eyes out.

Soon enough, she fell asleep on the carpet. The hours crawled by with her heavily breathing on the floor and the rain still pounding on the town outside.

From her sleep, she never woke up.

Author's Note

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Reviews

[Ronn Michael Salinas]

hmm the ending seems to need more elaboration, Kat