Chapter. I Uncovered
I had read many books in my life. I had a part time job at a library in my small town, as well as being in the school 'book club'. It was a know fact that I had mastered the art of completing summer reading assignments in single weekends, and considered the Dewy Decimal system my second language. That language in truth being French, and my first English.
However despite devouring many classic and contemporary works, there never did seem, to be a shortage of great books. My favorites being that of the romance and fiction genre. However I did enjoy a classic mystery piece once in awhile. Being on the outskirts of just about every social circle in high school, books had always been where I escaped to.
In the stories I read, I could escape reality and my social awkwardness. In moments of indecision, the characters of these books always offered great advice. I could pretend I was in the shoes of the hero or heroine and travel to distant lands and experience the thrill of adventures. My mundane life, consisted either of school and school work, or working part time at my uncle's library. My preferred choice was obvious.
I couldn't imagine a life without reading. Where would I have been, without the solace I found in these alternate realities? The growing pains I felt as I transitioned from child to teenager, were that more painful without any friends to talk to. Not to say that I hadn't ever before had a friend.
I was quite young then, perhaps five or six when I met her. Back then she was probably around the age that I am now—seventeen. A babysitter my father hired, as he often stayed away on business trips. I so became accustomed to his absence even at such a young age. This woman, Liana, then became more of a big sister figure to me.
To this day I attribute my love of literature to her. All those cold winter nights we spent together huddling by the fire. All the hot summer evenings, reading stories by candle light. She always had something interesting to read to me, and spared me from the cliché filled fairy tales. Though not to say I hadn't enjoyed those as well.
Though.. there was this one story, above all that really captured my interest. I only remember few details clearly.. Perhaps because it was the last storybook she had begun to read to me. I couldn't read very well as I was still so young, but I remember the volume was bound in dark leather and well worn. It smelled like dust and the pages had yellowed with age. The font was quite small and hard to tell the letters apart from on another. My eyes swam across the pages trying to make sense of it.
I remember her. Liana, smiling down at me, and reading bits of it to me in a low hushed voice. Something about an Angel and a Mask. There had been a Opera too, but what of it? The years had made the fragments foggy in my mind. I never did ask her the title of the story. So each day going to work at my uncle's library I wondered if I'd ever come across the story again. I was hopeful. But realized how unrealistic it was, considering there were probably many thousands of books that had Angels and Operas.
"Adelia!" The familiar trill came from down the corridor, making me bolt awake.
"Ah! Del-iaa~" The voice sang, softer this time as it neared. Aunt Violet.
"Yes madam." I groaned into my pillow.
"It's quarter past six. Charles and I are opening up shop." Came the voice.
The door opened swung open enough for Violet to pop her head in.
"Good morning." She smiled.
"Good morning, Madame." I nodded, returning her kind tone.
"Do you mind helping your uncle, move some books after school today?"
"Of course." I yawned stretching my arms. "Are they donations?"
"Yes, a bit of spring cleaning you could say." She winked, gently closing the door behind her.
It was the third of March, 1963- my fourth and final year of High School was well underway. Needless to say High school wasn't really my cup of tea. I went to a' good' school, got 'good' grades, and was considered a 'good girl'. According to my uncle there was nothing for me to complain about. So I didn't—outwardly. Though secretly I longed for something more, what that something was, I hadn't a clue.
I had moved many years ago now, perhaps now seven, to this area of Brighton England. Year round it was absolutely breathtaking—painting worthy really. I felt very lucky living so close to the ocean, and wandered down to the public landing to read.
Other than the absence of my long ago friend Liana, my life was roughly the same.
My father was gone more often than not, and I was left alone. My uncle, Charley was a quiet and reserved man, he and his wife Violet had ran the library for over fifteen years. I was grateful to them for taking me in, though kept my distance. I feared getting attached to them, only to have to leave again someday. It was silly, but the thought really bothered me somehow.
Taking the long way home from school, I wandered through the heart of my small town. It was a lovely spring afternoon and the area was bustling, full of both locals and tourists. Year round our area was home to beautiful tourist attractions and sights both the locals and those from far away both flocked to see.
Though I no more than nodded or politely smiled as I made my way through the crowded streets. It was somehow nice feeling to be out and around people, though I didn't communicate closely with any of them. It was as if finally, the winter clouds had parted, and the sun was finally shining the first rays of spring's light.
I couldn't help but feel light hearted as I headed into a second hand book shop. It smelled of ink and freshly made paper, and I breathed in happily upon entering. The old man behind the counter peered over his magazine, and gave me a slight nod. I wandered around the tall shelves, tracing my fingertips along the sides of the tall wooden beams between each.
The old wooden floor creaked noisily in the otherwise quiet store as I walked to the back section. Here there stood a small black shelve crowded with old worn of the titles had long since worn off the bindings and covers of the books, making them unintelligible. Nameless, unless, you opened them up to the title page—which made them even more mysterious.
My hand wandered over to the smaller of the books, stuck in the middle. I pulled it out slowly, and turned it over in my hands. The leather cover was worn, but the embellishments on it promised that it had once indeed been beautiful. Small engraved flowers encircled the binding.
The faded price sticker on the right hand corner read 3€. I walked up to the counter where the man again peered over his magazine at me. He gave a slight smile as he took the book from me.
"Hmm this is quite an old one.." He studied it, seeming to look for the title.
"Uh yeah, how old does it look to you sir?"
"Three Francs huh? I'd say it is quite old indeed. Perhaps..early 20th century.."
"What an interesting find." I dug around in my change purse for money. "Sir, how much?"
"Let's go with ah..two pounds. How about that ma'am?"
"Fair enough sir." I smiled handing him my money and clutching my new found treasure.
"You have a nice day. Thank you, kindly." He smiled before resuming his reading.
I could hardly wait to go back to the house, lock myself in my room and start reading. I then realized I had overlooked something. I was supposed to be back at the library helping Charley. I had completely forgotten, and looking at my watch I was already twenty minutes late. As stated before Charley could be persnickety to say the least. I already felt like burden by having them take me in since my father stayed away due to work...s
Later that night I trudged up the steps to my loft. My arms both ached and my feet felt as heavy as lead, but I was happy. I was able to help my uncle and aunt, even if only a little bit. It made me happy that even though Charley was a bit hard to approach he at least acknowledged, whereas my father didn't. Even if it was just him letting me help him load heavy boxes of books into his truck.
I rubbed my shoulder with a sigh I really did feel odd somehow. Like I was forgetting something.