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Silent Knowlegde (I)
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 Created on 6-16-07
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entire story is 52 computer pages long. there fore, there is a longer intro into the characters.
Silent Knowledge
-November 4, 2007- Lacey-
Piercing brightness struck my slumber. I slowly rolled over onto my stomach and pulled the covers over my head. Wondering what time it was, I peeled back the corner of my sheets and peered out to look at my alarm clock; 5:45 a.m. I had a whole beautiful hour of sleep I could grab before I had to get ready for the day. My body felt weighted down by dreams as I pushed my self onto my knees to stare at my midnight sheets. My entire bed set was black. The spread was splattered with whites and yellows, giving me the universe to nestle under. The covers fell off my back and I could feel my long brown hair stuck to my moist neck, most likely getting tangled in my mother’s gold locket. I staggered out of bed, feeling the pressure of my body pressing my soft feet against the hardwood floor. As I sheltered my eyes from the sun’s rays, I made my way to the window; feeling around for the curtains. Once I shut them I opened my eyes. The light shining against the rose curtains filled the room with a crimson glow. I figured if God woke me up this early, it was because I needed a shower. So I made use of the extra hour and walked over to my cherry wood dresser. There, laid my brush, paper work that should have been filed or thrown away, lipstick that I’ll probably never use, and an empty picture frame. The top dresser drawer-the underwear drawer- was jammed. This was an old routine for me, so I just gave the knobs a good shake and it slid right open. Then, I selected my panties, its not like it really mattered though. No one was going to see them anyways, why did I even bother? I closed the drawer with my elbow as I turned to grab my bathrobe. The minute the drawer shut, I heard something fall off the top of the dresser. I quickly turned back around to find the lonely picture frame on the ground. I picked it up and saw that the glass was broke, but I didn’t care. I hated the frame anyways, or maybe I hated what used to be in it. What ever it was, it didn’t matter. I tossed the silver useless frame into the trash as I passed the threshold that led from my room into the bathroom.
I stripped off my green nightgown, and begun to run the water. I walked past the small oval mirror that hung over the sink. Usually, I would turn my head in the opposite direction when I passed a mirror. It wasn’t that I thought I was ugly; it was that I didn’t want to look at myself without my infamous smile plastered on. That might have sounded crazy, and yet, it some how made sense to me. But that time I confronted my “morning fresh” face. I gave myself a good look in the mirror. My complexion was pale and my gray eyes didn’t seem to have that sparkle in them, which was unusual. Once I dipped my toe into the water that ran in the tub, I stepped in. The tiles in my bathroom were white with blue flowers that accompanied the shower curtain. I pulled the pin up to turn on the showerhead, and then rushed to the very end of the tub avoiding the initial cold blast of water. I waited about fifteen seconds for the hot water to flow out. The water caressed my back while the steam convinced my eyelids to close. I thought about work, I knew I was going to be assigned to a new case, and I remembered Johnny wanted to go out to eat tomorrow. I didn’t need to go out to eat, I loved Johnny like an older brother, but I didn’t feel like talking about the divorce again was going to make me realize anything new. I was fine, I was getting along fine without him, and I didn’t need “comfort” because I was the one who did the comforting, not the other way around.
Going to work was exhausting. I did everything in my power to move on in life; begin the next chapter, but the radio taunted me.
You were all the things I thought I Knew, And what I though we could be… You were everything, everything that I wanted.
We were meant to be, supposed to be, but we lost it…
I quickly turned the station, only to be irritated again.
…Selfishly hated no wonder you’re jaded. You can’t play the victim this t-i-i-ime!And you’re too late. Don’t cry to me
If you loved me, you would be here with me…
“Dear Jesus,” I muttered to myself. It was like everything wanted to remind me of him. I was fine though, and I persisted to tell myself that as I pulled into the parking lot of The Department of Child Services and Care, a.k.a. where I worked.
…I’ve made up your mind.
When I entered my office Serina was placing a folder on my desk that was the color of a rain cloud. “Oh Lacey, good, I was just dropping off you’re next case,” she smiled. I smiled back at her, “Thank you very much,” I leaned on my desk, “So how was your weekend?” She gave me a tired sigh, but then looked at me and smiled once again. Hesitatingly she answered, “ It was okay”. I tilted my head, there was a glimpse of sad in her eyes, or maybe she was just tired. I couldn’t help myself; I whole-heartily wanted to comfort her, or at least let her know if she ever had a problem I would be there. “Are you okay?” I asked. Let me help you I wanted to say to her. “Oh yeah… I’m fine” she replied heading towards the door. I knew Serina all too well, and that’s why I wasn’t surprised when she stopped at the door and said, “Well, maybe I’ll call you later, Okay”.
I sat back in my leather chair and gazed at my office. The plant in the corner was slowly dying on me. I smirked; what I great image, a social worker, here for the emotionally hurt, had a dying plant sitting off in the corner of her office, ignored. The desk I sat behind had a glass top. My computer was a flat screen; the office was updated last summer, there also was the usual: pens, stapler, file holder etc. On my back wall I had pictures collaged together of smiling faces from previous teens and children I’ve worked with. There was a section of pictures with me getting awarded for my “compassion and love”, and an empty corner where I had had my wedding and honeymoon pictures posted. I opened the blue-gray folder to learn about the next child I got to work with. “Hmm…” I whispered, “how terrible”. I continued to read, and prepare myself for what was to be in store for the next couple of weeks. My newest was a small girl, four years old, who was going through an unfathomable grieving process. My eyes became wide as I read about what had happened to her parents. Three words came into my mind; severe emotional trauma.
I took out my pen and started to make notes on the sides of my case’s background information. My little office was as silent as a coffin. The only noise you could hear was the patter of my left foot that tapped on the edged of my desk as I sat with my legs crossed. That was the most comfortable position for me and unfortunately I was a fan of skirts. With that said; I couldn’t, well, shouldn’t have sat like that considering it might have revealed what was under my skirt. Serina came around the corner and knocked on the inside of the door that stood wide open. She met my eyes, “Uh… You have a message”. Her voice was at a point of worry. I asked, “Okay, from who”. One corner of her mouth bent down, her eyebrows scrunched together regrettably, “Gl-Gloria” she stammered.
I could feel the muscles in my face pull down, dragging my spirit with them. I took a deep breath in and smiled, “Gloria, okay, that’s fine. What did she want?” I questioned. Serina put her hands on her broad hips answering, “I’m pretty sure she’s the investigator assigned”. There was a long pause, then she added, “Lacey, you knew you would have to work with her eventually, I mea-” “I know, I know its okay, trust me, its okay.” Why? God, why? I thought to myself. I stood up for no reason, and then decided I wanted to go to the vending machines. I walked over to her, towering over her. She was only about four foot eight, and I five foot five. Serina and I have been working together for about four years. She is a trusted friend and office secretary. Her light brown eyes were always masked by blue colored contacts, and she seemed to wear dress suits no matter how hot it was outside. I put my arm around her to give her a sense a personal connection. “To the vending machine” I directed.
We walked out of my office into the lobby that had a marble floor, green padded chairs that were lined to both sides of the front entrance, and in the middle; Serina’s desk. Lightwood and glossy finish with two computers and artificial plants composed her eight by six terrain. We walked past all the other offices with our co-workers in them. When they saw me, they smiled, waved, and one even blew me a kiss. We walked over to the machines, once we entered the back room where we could keep our refrigerated lunches and heat them up. “Don’t say it! You know I’m trying to lose weight”, she warned. I gave her a look. The look I give people when they say something to imply negativity on themselves. “I wasn’t planning on it, but its nice to see someone’s trying to get healthier. I should myself,” I said supportably.
“That’s not true,” she replied.
“Are you kidding me? Sure it is,” I said. Then to make a point, I reached into the undersized pockets in my moss green skirt and pulled out two quarters. After dropping them into the slot of the machine and stood deciding on what to get. After a good 30 seconds I went with the Peanut Butter M&Ms.
When I got back to my office, I checked the time. I should be getting ready to leave I thought to myself. I grabbed the post-it note on my desk that had Gloria’s number on it. I shook my head, tempted to through it away, but I knew that I couldn’t let anyone get the best of me. Then, I grabbed my purse and the folder. Thinking about the meeting, I knew, for the girl, this would be the most awkward day, and for me, the easiest.
On the highway, the radio started to annoy me. I never understood how stations that played only the most popular songs got listeners. Sure, the first half hour of it sounds good, then the songs keep repeating over and over again. It all gets old. So I turned on the CD player. I have always been a person who needs music, its my therapy. This CD was mixed, I made it about two weeks ago. For me, it had the perfect songs on it.
…I won’t put my hands up and surrender.There will be no white flag above my door.I’m in love, and always will be.I loved that song, accept the one line that stated, “I’m in love and always will be”. For me, that wasn’t correct. I didn’t love him, and when I did, it obviously wasn’t true. I started to sing along with the music. I’d try to reach the same notes at the same decibels as the singer. Sometimes I’d even picture myself singing in front of a crowd, and there would always be someone in the crowd I’d sing to. A stage, maybe, where no one knew I had a voice and then suddenly I rise. I grab the microphone and open my mouth. The entire audience in awe; their eyes watching me in disbelief as I sing my soul. And then, I spot that one person in the crowd that is completely astounded; they are the one I am singing to. If I’m singing a song of betrayal, then I am singing to the person who has betrayed me the most. If I’m singing a song of love, then I am singing to the one I am in love with. I would show the world me. My singing fantasy was just something I was compelled to dream about when I was alone with my music. My imagination would take control.
I needed to be at 7281 Yellowfin Lane at 1p.m. With my luck, I would have gotten lost, but I didn’t. I pulled into a very nice development where all the houses were new, and the streetlights were made to look old-fashioned. I thought that developments were fine for others to live in, just not me. To be honest, they gave me an eerie feeling. In this one all the houses were clones. All tan panel siding with a dark brown roof, clean-cut lawns, white-railed porches, and white whicker patio furniture.
When I reached the right clone, I noticed the only thing different about it that was it had a statue of Jesus’ mother, Mary, in the garden. Out of consideration I parked in the street. Then I made my way up the driveway, which had chalk drawings all over it. Seeing the artwork made me smile. I reached the door, rang the bell, and knocked twice. There was no answer. The door, like all the rest, was the same brown as the roof. Their door had a wreath on it, decorated in summer flowers of yellow and pink. Abruptly, the door swung open. A short woman with curly brown/gray hair looked up at me. She wore an apron over a purple housedress. She looked about fifty-five. Her lips were thin, outlined by wrinkles, and her eyes were a vibrant piercing green.
I gave my best smile and introduced myself, “Hello I’m Lacey Rivale, the social worker”.
She looked at me hard and then faintly smiled, “ I know who you are, I’m Tabby Hamcott”.
I extended my hand to shake hers. “Pleasure to meet you”.
“Well if the circumstances were different, I’m sure I could say the same”.
I nodded, “Understandable”.
“I’ve been praying, and the good Lord hasn’t answered me yet, so I’m just going to assume you’ll do good for Alison,” she said almost warning.
“Nothing less” I assured her.
Just then a small face appeared from behind Tabby. Her tiny hands clenched on to her aunt’s waist. Her honey blonde hair fell just past her shoulders. A saddened deep brown hung in her sparkling eyes. She looked smaller than a four-year-old. I bent down, to meet her gaze. Every part of my heart felt compassion for this young child. Her bewilderment and pain was etched so deep in her eyes, you would just gape at them for hours. “Hi,” I whispered, “You must be Alison, I’m Lacey. Its very nice to meet you”.
Comments
Please Login to post comments| On August 19th 2007 Illiad65 Said : | |
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Hey great story. I like it alot. Very... well written, and I got pulled into the story. Well off to tead the next one. |
| On July 12th 2007 bobwobbly Said : | |
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this is gooooood. Me gonna read more. |
| On June 17th 2007 bluehotpixie Said : | |
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i like this alot!! |
