Decipher Chapter 2

This chapter is in the perspective of Lacey Quinton, Ronette's mom. Despite the world constantly beating on her, she always makes an effort to put a smile on her face.

Lacey Quinton

Saturday, February 11, 2040

12:34 pm

I smile a lot around Ronnie, even though I know she’s smart enough to see right through it. It’s not like she’s oblivious. After all, I slipped once�"told her about the delinquency notice when I should’ve just kept quiet. The moment the words left my mouth, I regretted it. I could see the weight of it settle on her shoulders, the worry flicker behind her eyes, the inevitable tears starting to well up. But I smile anyway. I smile because it’s the only thing I have left to protect her from all the stress and fear bubbling under the surface. She doesn’t need to know about the bills, the long hours, or the cracks I’m desperately trying to patch up. And maybe�"just maybe�"if I keep smiling, it’ll give her something to hold onto. A small glimmer of hope that everything might turn out okay, even if we both know better. I have to believe that my smile can shield her, keep her mental state intact. If she can find hope in me, then maybe she’ll find a reason to believe in the world again, even if it’s just a sliver of a chance.

I rise from my chair behind the counter, the familiar creak of the old wood echoing in the quiet bookstore. I gather my things, including the dreaded delinquency notice that weighs heavily in my bag and my dog-eared personal copy of Great Expectations, a novel that has always been a comfort to me. Kneeling down in front of my daughter, I find myself lost in the depth of her pitch-black eyes, which have always held a sense of wonder for me. They are so intense and mystifying, as if they are guarding secrets that the world isn’t quite ready to uncover. But today, those eyes are red and watery, filled with unshod tears that tug at my heart. After what feels like hours, caught in the spell her gaze casts on me, I finally reach into my pocket and pull out a clean tissue to gently wipe her eyes. With a clean cloth from my other pocket, I carefully clear the fog from her glasses, which have clouded over from her tears. I offer her a smile�"a cautious yet loving smile that conveys my support and understanding in this moment.

“Let’s close up early,” I say, standing to my feet. “We both need the day off and we both know that nobody is planning to buy anything from here today.”

“Alright.” Ronette smiles back at me, her smile beautiful and genuine, so different from mine. I know my smile is just a mask, even if I’m not hiding anything sinister. The thought of hiding anything from Ronnie, even my own worries, fills me with guilt, but I remind myself that it’s for the best. She deserves to feel happy and carefree.

“Give me another cipher to solve when we get home. The atbash cipher you gave me earlier was way too easy.”

“Sure thing.” I grab the remote from the counter. The TV is rambling on about some new security systems put in place to ensure the safety of the wormholes. I turn off the TV quickly and set the remote down. Every single wormhole in the world is currently being used as a trash disposal site, except for the massive one in Denver. It’s honestly disappointing, the way humanity responded to this phenomenon.

I fidget with the silver key on my necklace, a nervous habit I can’t seem to shake. After finishing up packing my bag, I head outside with Ronnie by my side. We hold hands to steady ourselves on the icy sidewalk, careful not to slip. The bright sunlight makes me squint, while the cold wind dances around my brown hair, sending shivers down my spine. My fingers are starting to feel numb from the chill. I climb into the driver’s seat of my 2026 Honda Civic. I know it’s not the newest model on the market, especially with all the flashy cars out there, but this old Honda is all I can afford right now, thanks to the bookstore. Thankfully, it backs out of the parking lot without any issues. As we drive, the fall leaves blur together in warm shades, and a few delicate snowflakes drift down, carried by the brisk breeze. A minute later, we pull into the driveway and step out of the car. The house is vintage and only one story, a place that’s been in the family nearly as long as the bookstore. It reminds me of the bookstore�"both are small, cozy, and tucked away, easy to miss unless you’re looking for them.

I look up at it. The wooden porch is rickety, and the white paint is starting to peel in some areas. Ivy creeps up the pale brown bricks, its wish to ensnare them keeping it unfazed from the snow. Ronnie carefully shuffles over to the mailbox and looks inside. She pulls out two white letters, both adorned with stamps.

“This one’s from Cindy, and this one’s from him,” she says. There is a harsh bitterness in her voice at that last part, which is how I know she’s referring to Josh. He’s my ex-husband, and Ronnie absolutely hates him. The three of us lived together as a happy family until Ronnie was about eight. He worked in real estate, but always made an effort to help out at the bookstore. However, as time continued on, something changed. The stability and routine of family life seemed to weigh on him, and the bookstore became less of a passion and more of an obligation. He started to crave something more�"something bigger. He became increasingly distant, drawn to the allure of success and the attention that came with it. Soon, he was chasing money, deals, and validation from people who barely knew him, leaving us behind like an afterthought. By the time he set his sights on other women, it was clear�"his heart had left long before his body did.

“Hey, don’t worry about him. Go read your book and the letter Cindy sent you. I’ll make hot chocolate and knock on your door when its ready.” She squeezes my hand, warming it up and slips Josh’s letter into my pocket. We make it to the decaying front porch and I unlock the door to let us both in.

I hang up my old jacket and take off my boots, the familiar scent of old paper and ink lingering in the air as I step into my living room. Celeste runs up to me and purrs, and I bend down to scratch his ears. The only thing illuminating the dim living room are the shards of light peaking their way through the dusty shutters. I turn flick on the light switch. Ronnie wanders off to her room. Just as I settle into my favorite chair, my phone rings. The caller ID flashes Karen’s name, and a wave of reluctance washes over me.

“Hello?” I answer, forcing cheer into my voice.

“Lacey! It’s Karen!” Her voice is bright and chirpy, an annoyingly cheerful tone that feels almost like a personal jab at my more somber mood. “I just heard about some new analysis tests that scientists are working on regarding those wormholes! Isn’t it all just a bit… excessive? I mean, who has time to read about that?”

I feel my stomach knot. “Right, well… it’s important to some people,” I reply, trying to keep my tone neutral.

“Oh, of course! You and your books!” Karen laughs, and I know for a fact that she is purposely mocking me. “Honestly, I can’t see the point. But you always did love your ‘science fiction,’ right? Unlike Josh, who’s off being happy with Linda now, I hear.”

The corners of my mouth tighten, my patience fraying. “Actually, it’s not fiction. It’s science,” I say, forcing myself to remain calm. I can’t let her words get to me, but it’s hard when every mention of Josh feels like a fresh wound.

“Science, sure! But really, can’t you just enjoy something normal like the rest of us? What’s the point of books in general? I mean, come on, it’s 2040! Books are so outdated- not to mention boring” she continues, the condescension lacing her words.

Just then, I hear Linda’s voice chime in from the background. “I can’t believe she’s still clinging to that bookstore dream. I mean, it’s just so… sad. Why not get a real job like the rest of us?”

I take a deep breath, closing my eyes and thinking back to Quinton Bookstore, filled with the familiar treasures I’ve been surrounded by my whole life, my heart swelling with both hurt and longing. “Some of us find value in understanding our world,” I say softly, but Karen doesn’t catch the edge in my tone.

“Well, good for you! Keep reading those deep books, Lacey! Just remember, while you’re off studying wormholes, we’ll be enjoying life,” Linda interrupts once again oblivious to my growing irritation. “And honestly, maybe it’s time to move on from Josh. He obviously has.”

Just then, I hear Karen’s voice again, dripping with malice colder than the weather outside. “I can’t believe he ever settled for someone like you, Lacey. He’s much happier with someone pretty like yours truly who knows how to have fun. And that strange little girl of yours? Poor thing doesn’t stand a chance with a loser for a mom. Josh must not have loved either of you very much if he was so willing to leave. Or maybe oddballs like the two of you just aren’t very lovable in general.”

I feel a white-hot, quiet fury rising in me. I feel my mask crack. “You can berate and insult me all you want,” I say, my voice steady and low, “but keep my daughter out of this.”

Karen and Linda exchange whispers, their laughter piercing through my anger. “Aww, are you going to cry?” Karen mocks, and Linda adds, “Look at her, getting all worked up over nothing!

I clench my jaw, her words cutting deeper than she realizes. “Sure, Karen,” I say, forcing a smile that could almost be heard through the phone. “Enjoy your�"”

Before I can finish my sentence, she interrupts, still giggling and whispering to Linda. “Well, it was so nice catching up, Lacey!” Her sarcasm is painfully obvious, even through the phone. “Anyway, I really need to go now!” And just like that, she hangs up, leaving me mid-sentence, my words hanging in the air like the unacknowledged feelings inside me.

As I sit there, the phone still warm in my hand, I can’t help but question why I even choose to talk to them in the first place. They seem to take pleasure in tearing me down, relentlessly poking at the fragile facade I worked so hard to maintain. Every interaction feels like a cruel reminder of my inadequacies, as if they enjoy watching the cracks in my mask widen. Why do I subject myself to their mocking laughter and condescending remarks, knowing it would only damage the delicate balance I tried to uphold? I wanted to believe that holding onto these so-called friendships was worth it, but in moments like this, the pain outweighed any sense of belonging I hoped to find.

Just then, Ronnie walks into the room, her face a mix of unhappiness and concern.

“Mom, are you okay?” she asks softly.

I smile, but it’s no use. The mask has been broken once again, its pieces strewn across the floor.

“Yeah, sweetheart, I’m fine,” I manage, but my voice trembles despite my best efforts. Ronnie steps closer and wraps her arms around me, pulling me into a tight embrace.

“I’m here, Mom,” she whispers, and in that moment, I feel a flicker of warmth amidst the coldness that Karen and Linda have left behind. It’s not just their icy remarks but a growing chill in the world around me, where understanding feels scarce. Yet, as I hold Ronnie close, I remember that we can protect ourselves against the cold.

Author's Note

Honestly I feel like this chapter is not my best work. I feel like one of the hardest things about writing is capturing the complexities of human emotions on a page, the essence of who we are has to tied down with only a few choice words in a vast cosmic buffet. Only true legends can do it perfectly. So yeah sorry if its cringe lol :/