March 21st, 2012 Petar Dordevic

Assignment #3: final draft

Angela

It always happens in this train to Chicago that I remember Angela. I can still clearly see her, as if it was yesterday. Her hair, black as night, and shiny, like the stars were hiding in the waves of that dark sea. Her face, pale as the first snow, and her lips, soft, thin and pink like roses. Her dreamy voice, which still rings in my ears, rose slightly when she was excited or angry, and violets still remind me of her sweet scent. I loved how she complained that all the people were taller than her, and hated when she would say how imperfect she was. It's funny how I remember those things. It will be ten years since I have left Starfalls next September, when the sky is still blue and the trees wear gold, and the girls still have their colorful skirts. I had to leave, the pressure of such a small town was too much for me. I've walked those streets countless times, and tasted all the drinks I could in the countless cafs. After that, I just had nothing to do, and the only possible way to save myself from drowning in the everyday routine was to leave. That opportunity came when I was offered a scholarship to Harvard, one day in the early summer after I had finished high school. One week later, I was on this train, heading east. Now, the ghostly image of my town hunts me every time I pass by. I still remember, with a strange mixture of love and hatred, the gray streets, and the familiar faces of people, and I wonder how they have changed in ten years. But, I'll be honest, I'm afraid. There's nothing for me there anymore, not since my dad had died. I don't need to go back. And I won't. There's nothing there that I'd like to see. Except for Angela. Sir, are you all right? says the lady sitting in my coupe. She is not old, but she is older than me. I'd say she looked like she was around thirty five, but she must have been through a lot. Her hair is straight, rather gray and trapped under one of those big hats women wear in those silly love movies. Her hands and face are skinny she looks like a plant which desperately needs water. Her face is also

strict, and she reminded me of my old, cranky elementary teacher, Mrs. Onyx. You looked pale, she says apologetically, and I realize she is worried that she sounded rude by buzzing into my business. I'm fine, do not worry, I say, feeling sorry for making her uncomfortable. I am just distracted. I used to live in the town we're stopping in soon. Starfalls, really? I'm going there too, sir, she says with a smile. Oh, I'm not staying in Starfalls. I'm heading to Chicago. Do you live in Starfalls? I am afraid I do not, sir, she says with a dose of hesitation in her voice. I'm sorry for being nosy. It is my turn to apologize again. Oh, no sir, you are just curious about your home. I guess you have not visited it recently? You are correct, Miss...? Mrs. Seul, she adds quickly. Well, Mrs. Seul, you are correct. I have not visited Starfalls in almost a decade! And you miss it? I'm afraid I don't. It choked me. Small towns are not really for my taste, you know. Then, there's somebody there you miss, she says with a romantic note in her voice. A girl! Oh, please don't tell me a gentleman like you left a girl there! she exclaims. Well... I murmur as her eyes widen. In my defense, I continue quickly It's a long story. And we have time, she smiles again. Oh right. There is a girl... Angela... I think about her every time I come by here and I am on this train a lot! She is kind of... a hero of mine. The woman smiles, encouraging me to continue with my story. I've known Angela since we were kids. She was my age. And, I always thought of her as one of my best friends. She was a... special girl. She used to play with me and my friends. Together, we would build tree houses, play with marbles or chase after neighbors' cats. You see, Angela was not like other girls. She was one of us she was one of the boys.

I still remembered the Joli incident. Joli was the prettiest girl in the neighborhood: she had golden locks and blue dresses and white slippers, and all the boys went crazy about her. Well, I believe that was the only time Angela was not one of the boys. It was the mid-summer between eight and ninth grade, and Joli was coming home after her regular weekly shopping-spree. She was walking down the street, when, all of a sudden, huge mudballs went flying right onto her from one of our fortresses. She, of course, ran home in tears, and a few minutes later her angry father, Mr. Vide, was knocking on Angela's door. We were in the backyard, and Angela joined us, slowly, as if she was sleepwalking, with her face calm and quiet, just moments after we had heard Joli crying. However, she turned white when she heard Mr. Vide's voice, arguing with her father. Angela's father, Mr. White, was a righteous man. He came into the backyard, and asked calmly: Who did it? All the time, he was looking at her, as if he knew the answer. Angela grew even paler, if that was even possible, and her trembling hand touched mine for a moment. I did, I stepped forward, gathering all of my courage. Mr. White looked at me, than looked at Angela and then back at me and said: Very well, young man. I'll inform your parents of what you did. And he did. My bottom still hurts from that night. Then, something changed. As if that autumn had brought something in all of us, some turmoil, and I still wonder if things could have been different if it weren't for it. The high school, the lady laughs. The high school... On the first day of high school, Angela ate lunch with us. I still remember her anxious face she swirled and looked all around her, like a rabbit that's watching for a hunter. We did not notice that at a time but now I understand she felt like she did not belong. Please don't be insulted, Mrs. Seul, but girls are mean creatures. They attack in packs, and a lone wolf is bound to lose. And Angela lost. I believe that month was the hardest month in her life. She completely changed. When October came, with it's cloudy skies, rains and the gray color's triumph, Angela was different. One

day, I bumped into her into the hallway, and I could not recognize her. I'm sorry, I tried to apologize. It's OK, she said impatiently and from her voice did I recognize her. Angela? What happened... Goodbye Philip, she whispered quickly and turned on her heels, not giving me a single look, as if she was embarrassed for even knowing me. I was too shocked to say anything. She was wearing a dress! I've never seen her in one of those. She had a white dress, with a red cherry pattern on it, and a red bow in her shiny hair, and red slippers that accompanied it all. But, the thing that shocked me the most was that she was wearing make-up. She never wore make-up! But, there it was, a burning red lipstick and a dark layer of powder was obvious on her face. Next four years, she said no word to me. That is the Angela I do not know, and that is the Angela I don't want to know or remember. She always hanged out with a group of chatty girls, which were all like her, and, I was sad to notice, like Joli. That's how we went separate ways. Soon after the end of the fourth year, I got accepted to Harvard, and left Starfalls. And I haven't been back ever since. The woman is silent for a moment or two, and then she rises her head and says calmly: I know who you're talking about. The whistle of the train covers my surprised shout. After that, I start coughing due to the lack of air because of my shock. When I am able to speak, I whisper: Tell me. The woman throws a sad glance at me and says with melancholy: I must warn you, it is not a happy story I am about to tell. After you left, Angela realized how much you meant to her and how much she missed you. However, you did not care about her anymore. She turned rotten. She started smoking, and she became a... there is not really a nice way to say this... a drunkard. Her reputation also fell down, as she was seen with different... I could not call that sort of people gentlemen... men, I guess... all the

time. It was around her twentieth birthday that she had found out that she was carrying. However, the father was too young to look for himself alone. He was a son of rich people so, as it often happens, he disappeared to a college. She never saw him again. She married soon after that. The man was a thirtysomething years old businessman, who took her and the baby under his wing. And then, a new horizon opened for her, when they moved to New York. Her husband... Richard Jones, I believe, joined some strong firm in the Big Apple. She tried acting. However, she did not go far. Rare are those who succeed, like in those silly movies young people believe in. She lost part after part, but she did not know why. I assume she just did not have the talent. And she... she discovered that she was not talented for anything, anymore. I want to believe that her husband stayed with her for those two years only because of the baby. When Michael was able to walk and talk, Richard left them he had been having an affair with his secretary ironic, is it not? He was not all that bad, because he bought them a small apartment out of guilt, I assume. She was unemployed, poor, and with a baby on her hands, and a small suitcase of nothing by her feet. That's when I met her. We were next door neighbors, and soon became friends. She was depressed, but the only thing that made her live, and stay sober, was the boy. One day, she almost went back all over again. It was pure luck that I bargained through the door the moment before she took the bottle. Angela? What are you doing? I was surprised. She broke down, and started sobbing, dropping the bottle to the ground where it shattered into pieces, spilling liquid all over the floor, leaving permanent stains in the faded wood. That's when she told me everything. She told me about her life, told me about her friends... about you. She missed you. She hated you she was feeling so alone, and you didn't notice. She changed, and you didn't notice. You never noticed. And she was so alone... I helped her raise Michael, and I helped her find a job. She started working in one of those fashion houses, sewing. She did well, and then she got married again. Her husband is a rich man, and

he loves her so much. He helped more than I ever could, and helped Michael like he was his own. And then, they moved back to Starfalls. Now Michael is enrolled in one of the schools in New York, where he is living on the campus. He's a smart nine-year-old, a witty kid. I hear from Angela sometimes, and she comes to visit Michael from time to time. She's working as a seamstress, and looks like the business is good. It's her I'm going to visit in here, finishes the woman as the train whistles again. This time, we are in Starfalls. This is my stop says the woman as she stands up, putting her purple coat on. Goodbye... Philip she smiles. In a moment, I realize who she was, and, in that empty shell, I see the girl that ten years ago walked away in the school hallway, as I, in the shock, could do nothing. That could not be true! This woman cannot be... No... How? She turns towards the door, and I can, again, do nothing. The door closes behind her, and I catch a last glimpse of her walking slowly down the corridor, in her coat and hat, and a small suitcase in her hand. In a moment, she is gone, and the train moves on.