I
She walked into an empty room.
The silence in this room used to be almost deafening, her head spinning with the echoes from a gone past, laughter, chatter, discussion; the memory of verbal arguments fought so passionately rumbling in her mind, the memory of tender words uttered so lovingly crying out in her heart.
Not these days. There was only numbness inside, numbness in both her mind and her heart.
That was all anger and frustration had left when Angela realized she had used up those weapons in the fight against the insanity threatening to invade her existence after her love life had collapsed.
II
She sat down on the couch.
The beauty of silence. She had learned to appreciate it, a counterpoint to the busy life as a rising star in the parallel universe of advertising.
Angela Bower, do you remember how it all began ?
Yes, she thought to herself. I do. With a top job down the drain, shock, tears, then confidence, a restart from zero in a shoebox of an office, the maverick way of conquering if not the world, then Madison Avenue at least.
Yes. That's how it all began.
So many years ago.
Actually not that many years if you counted them strictly adhering to what we all learned in elementary school. To Angela, however, that period of time seemed to represent a good part of the journey from here to eternity.
She remembered that singular moment of making her mind up, the point of no return, when Tony and Mother had stood before her in that dump of an office, trying to convince her in a matter-of-fact kind of way that embarking on a suicide mission they called "The Bower Agency" was nothing less than the Gospel Truth.
Angela smiled. May God bless 'em.
III
She ran her fingertips over the surface of the couch.
The sound of silence.
So many stories. She almost felt as if those stories had been microscopically engraved into the couch's fabric and that she, their sole translator, could read the minuscule writing by running her fingers over it, like blind people read braille.
Angela closed her eyes.
It was here that Tony had impressed her for the first time, sitting down next to fractious little Jonathan and instantly connecting with him in a way that had left her almost speechless.
It was here that Tony had realized he should be a teacher, can you hear destiny calling, dear ?
It was here that Angela had gotten down on her knees. Twice. Shoulda known better, girl.
So many more stories, most of them still untold, flashing through Angela's mind, each and every one of them a ray of light attacking, all together an army conquering, the darkness within Angela's soul.
Let those stories be told, she thought.
Let 'em be told to brighten my world again.
IV
She leaned back.
The silence of an empty house. She opened her eyes again.
So strange to realize that although you're constantly moving through time and space, you'll always be stuck in that same place they call the present, the here and now, the crossroads of past and future.
Angela reflected on this simple truth for a while. No matter what you do, no matter how carefully you try to map the road ahead, no matter how thoroughly you try to analyze what lies behind, it won't take you one step closer to a future always easily outrunning you, nor will it get you anywhere near an understanding of a past ever more rapidly fading away.
Only stories remain. Stories to be told.
Like that one story in which Angela gave some small one-man enterprise in the City that had just started business a chance by developing a fairly basic publicity strategy for them. She never fully understood why she had agreed to do it, considering that at the time - some two years previously - The Bower Agency had already become Bower Advertising Inc, with both turnover and profit reaching sizable figures.
Yet this girl with virtually no money had obviously touched something in Angela, reminding her of the difficulties she herself had had to face when jumping into that shark basin they call self-employment or entrepreneurship. Moreover, the girl had shown a lot of aspiration and wit, as well as audacious determination and passion for her start-up.
Remind you of something, Angela ?
She smiled again.
Yes. Another story had just been told. Another ray of light was shining inside her, briefly illuminating her path, both past and future.
V
She got up.
Still smiling, she walked around the couch, eventually laying a hand on the phone. For some reason, Angela still remembered the number. Before picking up the receiver, she thought about it one last time.
No. There was no turning back. New stories were waiting to be told. Angela wouldn't let any more time slip away.
She started dialling.
You cannot change any of your shortcomings nor any of your past decisions.
But you can change the scene. You can move on. Most importantly, you can take a chance and trust in the audacity of hope.
As she waited for her call to be picked up at the other end of the line, Angela ran her fingertips across the surface of the couch table. She looked at them. There was a layer of dust on them.
Another story. It brought tears to Angela's eyes. Perhaps...perhaps she shouldn't...
The thought was cut off abruptly and then disappeared. Angela immediately regained her composure as she listened to her phone call being answered.
A strangely high-pitched and somewhat unconcerned, yet not at all unpleasant female voice said:
"Grace Adler Designs."