The Glass Secret (Chain of Secrets) (2 page)

It’s a sight to behold when her blonde hair tangles in the wind, resembling smooth tresses of spun silk. Sometimes when she passes me by, I brush my fingers across the ends. When she feels my energy, she jumps and turns towards me. Her eyes alight taking my breath away. Reacting purely on instinct, she withdraws from me. Once again, my intangible touch causes goose bumps to spread across her skin, raising the sheer hairs on her arms. I recoil.

When she is fearful of the dark, I assure her in some small way I am near, her sentry keeping watch. My concern is—I may be the cause of her fear. I am torn, albeit, if I reveal myself...will she embrace who I am or run from the likes of me?

She is a breath that I can capture, but one I cannot release. I am tortured. Hell on Earth
is
the price of my sin.

For now, I wait in the dark, watching and waiting for the day that she notices me.

-1-

Barely Breathing...

It was so cold I could see my own breath leaving me like a dark secret had been released, one, that had been trapped inside of me for decades. The wind stung against my cheeks, cutting through my coat. Technically, it was still winter. Ten days shy of spring. I couldn’t wait for the season to change. I welcomed the warmer weather. To hell with that, I’d take tomorrow if I were lucky.

There it was, again, another rush of pending uncertainty, twisting and gnawing in the pit of my stomach; every fifteen minutes I felt it. No, I wasn’t pregnant. It was
that heavy kind of feeling that sticks with you after eating a bowl of steel oats, forcing its way into your system. Fact was I hadn’t eaten anything. It was emotional more than physical. The knot grew to an intensity of a ten. It sat there like a weighed brick. My intuition screamed out that my life was on the brink of changing forever. Would it be for the better or worse? I had no idea. But a change was coming. This I was certain of.

It had been a long year, and I’d grown up in a fraction of a minute when I’d made a split decision to sacrifice all I had for the sake of another. I deserved a medal, but there wouldn’t be one; it didn’t matter if the world never knew what I had done. I knew and so would he. I was proud of my accomplishment. It felt good. Now what? I knew the past, but I wasn’t too sure of my future, only that I wanted it.

“Hurry, spit out my ticket,” I scolded the automated machine. A line of impatient people was thickening behind me. Their sighs grew louder. I didn’t have time for any more curve balls thrown my way.

My nerves were still buzzing from a gripping ordeal. I’d just gone through something comparable to falling down the rabbit’s hole in Alice’s far-fetched wonderland. I’m not sure how I remained unflappable. What I’d been through no one would believe me if I’d told them. Just another secret to stuff away in Pandora’s box.

“I can’t believe this,” the
la te da
woman behind me grumbled under her breath.

“Believe what?” I snapped in her direction and swiped my card again.

A breath of hot air landed on the back of my neck. “Maybe something’s wrong with your card. Oh my fucking God, you’re going to make all of us late,” the angry woman huffed, flipping her head back in a superior manner, casting pissy glances at me. The woman was attractive, on the outside, but the scope of ugly bubbled to the surface like filthy foam I’d seen once at a sewer plant.

“Nothings wrong with my card, it’s the machine,” I retorted back to her. The machine made a strange grinding noise and kicked out my ticket. “See.” I barked toward her as I grabbed my ticket. Called her, “Bitch,” but under my breath, which felt semi-gratifying. I had to laugh when I heard her cursing at the machine as I scurried through the tunnel. 

The sound of the train rumbled, vibrating down the strip of tracks. It shook the platform beneath my feet as it swiftly entered the station then came to a screeching halt. When the doors opened, a hot wind from the gulley kicked up into my face. The crowd behind me pushed inside, rudely. I pushed back slightly. In a hurry, I scanned the train for a seat, spotting one in the back corner next to a window.
Perfect.

“Is someone sitting there?” I asked an extremely old looking woman who was sitting next to the empty seat.  

She lifted her eyes and her face lit up like a beacon. “Nope. I was saving it for you, sweetie.”

Bemused, I smiled at her coy answer. “Really? Thanks.”

As soon as I sat down, I understood why no one had taken the empty seat next to her.
Pepe La Pew, himself, would have jumped from the train. She was dressed in an overcoat that swallowed her tiny fragile figure. Her rough wrinkled fingers poked through the holes of torn dirty black gloves, grasping onto a newspaper; coffee stains desecrated it.

“You made it just in time.” She pointed out the window. The la te da lady that was behind me minutes ago raced towards the train, her hands flailing and her mouth yapping. Pissed more like it. The old woman snickered, “That’s what she gets for being such an uppity snot.”

I snorted slightly. “How did you know?”

“Wasn’t born yesterday. Look at me.” She squinted her eyes in my direction. “People aren’t so complicated. They’re easy breezy. I can see right through them. It’s either light or dark in there,” She poked herself in the chest, then shuddered, dramatically. “There’s nothin
g gray about peoples. I see ones like her all the time...” She rambled on and on, her grammar lacked. I detected a thick Irish accent. “Take you for example, you got a light in there, it’s dim but it’s on.”

That made me laugh. “Thanks, I think.”

Adjusting my weight in the seat, I glanced over at her, several times, just checking things out. She was a very peculiar lady and outspoken.

“Would you like to share my paper? I saw you looking at it.” She shifted the page in my direction. When she did, I noticed the date, November 23
rd
1996. Her paper was almost seventeen years old. “There’s a lot going on these days. So many changes.” The old woman said with a crook smile, “Looks like the world is going to Hell in a hand basket and there ain’t nothing we can do about like we could in the olden days.”

Pressing my lips together, I studied her for a second longer, then said, “Ma’am, did you know your paper is...” I paused. “Thank you, that’s so sweet of you,” I simply relented, swallowing back what I wanted to say.

“Oh, I know it’s not today’s date. This isn’t real.” She shook the paper. “It’s a novelty that I found. And, did you know it’s one of a kind? Of course, you don’t. It’s a perfect replica of an American newspaper from New York City and it’s mine,” she said in a proud tone, hugging the paper.

Raising both brows in tandem, I nodded then flashed on the paper. “Wow, I see that. New York Daily Times, uh.”

“Yep, it’s one of my favorite finds. I treasure this paper. New York is magical. Never been there though, this paper is the closest I’ll ever get to New York City.” She frowned. “Well, this is my stop coming up. Enjoy your ride.” She stood up.

“Okay.” I waved. “Wait,” I called out as I dug out what cash I had in my purse.

“Yes.” She turned to me, her pale blue eyes tilted upward, smiling as the thin skin on her face draped over her high cheekbones.

“Here.” I pushed into her hand a sizable amount of money.

“Oh no, I don’t need that,” she humbly replied.

“Please, take it.”

“Bless you, child.”

“You’re welcome.”

She stood there hesitating—appraising me up and down. “I was thinking...can I have your phone number? Maybe we can get a coffee sometime. You seem like a nice girl.”

I bit my lower lip. “Well. Sure, why not.” She probably didn’t even own a phone. “Here’s my card.”

“Oh, you have pretty cards, just like you. I’ll put your number, right in...” She paused. I almost fell off the seat. To my surprise she pulled from her pocket the latest iphone. I felt duped.
How could she afford that?
She continued on, “My cell, but later because I have to go now.”

I rubbed my forehead, massaging back the stupidity I’d fel
t. As she back down the aisle, she called out, “Don’t worry, sweetie, I’ll call you. Most people say they will call but never do, but I will...promise.”

In utter shock, I closed my eyes for a slice of a second. When I opened them she was gone,
but I caught the back of her brown tattered coat disembarking the train. Damn, she sure moved fast for a woman of her age. Did she think I was going to change my mind about the 100 euros I’d given her?

I inched my face closer to the window, sinking into it. The glass was cold up against my forehead. Outside the window, from beneath the lines of my lashes, distortion took place. The inside of the metro tunnel, the tiled gray walls, and poster advertisements zoomed by into a smear. On the platform the crowd of people scurrying around turned into a big blur of oil colors, rendering them transparent, as people often are if you look close enough, as the old woman had said. I kicked myself for a few moments more. Damn it anyway, she was as slick as black ice.

The hiss of the world seethed on. I closed my eyes. Stillness within me settled amongst the madness of life. A steady sound wave, like a fan on high speed, droned in the depths of my mind, drowning out my thoughts. White noise was my friend; I could reproduce it like magic. Snap my fingers, and the rant of the random voices disappeared.

It was rush hour; people were rushing home: men, women, children, lovers all going somewhere. Blinding thoughts racing around in their head
s at high frequencies. Humans have become computers on legs. Everyone seemed to have a plan, perhaps not a master plan, but a plan, or at least looked as if they did. Who knows where they were going. I knew where I’d just come from and where I was headed. That was all that mattered at the time.

Goosebumps chased over my body. Suddenly, I was cold to the bone. I rubbed my hands together, rapidly. No good. I stuffed my blue fingers into
the fur lining of my coat pockets.

The sound of metal on metal screeched in the depths of my eardrums.
Almost home
, I thought. My heart dropped, anticipating what was to come of me. Another rabbit’s hole awaited me I guessed.

Inside one of the pockets, I detected the contrast of my slinky silver chain. I’d forgotten I put it there, earlier. It was as cold as my fingers. “At least I still have the necklace,” I whispered to myself, opening my palm then quickly slipp
ing the thin chain and heart pendant over my head. He begged me to wear it at all times. In an instant, my throat tightened. I wiped the intent tears away that pricked against my eyelids. I mentally snapped my fingers again. Nothing. Too late, I’d let fear take over.

I noticed in the empty seat next to me the old newspaper. The lady had forgotten her favorite find. She rambled on how precious it was to her but left it behind. I held back a laugh. Kooky little lady. I picked the paper up and examined it.  It didn’t look fake to me at all, but pretty damn old.

My eyes scanned the headline on the front page, dodging the food stains, of course. How odd. The article was about a little girl who had been kidnapped in my neighborhood. Damn, I wondered if she had been found. Of course, it was years ago, but still interesting. The article drew me in. As I read the seventeen-year old news, I bit into the glaze donut that I’d purchased earlier. It appeared the little girl had been missing for over several months.
Continue on page eight
. I turned to page eight.

I almost choked on the donut. My heart pounded out of my chest.
The family is devastated, little Brielle Eden’s remains had been discovered in an abandoned plant in Queens late last night.
I reread the sentence several times.

“What the fuck,” I said out loud, a little too loud
since there were children nearby. Was this some kind of sick joke? My eyes stared at my name until they went crossed eyed. I felt sick to my stomach. My hands began to shake, dropping the donut.

This isn’t true. It can’t be. I’m right here. It’s a mistake.

“You found my paper.” The old lady stood above me. Her blue eyes shimmered.

My words choke
d in my lungs. “What is this?”

“What?”

“This?” I shoved the paper into her face. “Read it,” I ordered.

“What’s your problem, pushing around a little old lady?” A man growled over my shoulder. “Leave her alone!”

I swung my head around toward him. “Mind your own business.”

“Oh that, yes, it’s a sad story. So sad. I’ve read it many times, too. She had such a pretty name Brianna Edison. The evil man that kidnapped her stole her puppy too. Such a sad story, it made me cry.”

I shook my head, confused. “Who? Brianna...no, the one about—” I grabbed the paper, narrowing my eyes in on the name, again.
Brianna Edison.
I blinked, rapidly.

“Thank goodness, it’s not a true story.”

“It’s not?” I asked automatically as my mind spun on full cycle.

“Oh no, not at all. Look.” She pointed at the bottom of the page. “But it still made me sad, of course.”