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Arlana's loneliness was palpable. Her family rarely contacted her. After all, she was a disgrace. Her son had been ignored for years - since his birth. The fact he was illegitimate was too much for her strict parents who wanted nothing to do with their grandchild. Ignoring the white screen that continued to mock her, Arlana opened the genealogy website.
Taking a deep breath, she started the free two-week trial, typing in the names of the few family members she knew. Her sisters, their husbands, and their children. Her parents' names and their parent's names. Great grandparents came next. She knew her great grandfather's name. He was Scottish she had been told. She searched her memory for scanty details, remembering, as a child, reading his name on the roadside mailbox. Her search couldn't find any records.
She had no idea what his wife's name was. Arlana had seen a black and white picture of her great grandfather and his wife years ago. All she remembered of her great grandmother was that she had protruding teeth.
Her mother had said her grandmother had died not long before her marriage and that she was very nice. Not much to go on. You can't very well type in "Buck teeth" and hope for the best.
***
ARLANA BARELY NOTICED when the door opened or when Jorken hunkered down on the couch. She'd carried a sleeping Aziel to bed and now she sat again, combing records from the past. Time was temporarily forgotten.
Jorken thrust his face in front of her computer screen for a moment, smooching her lips, his breath reeking from his decayed teeth.
"Happy New Year."
"You too," Arlana glanced at the time. 12:05 am. Oops.
Jorken retreated to his computer and Arlana resumed her search through the passage of time for a slight trace of her past, but still, there was nothing.
"I'm going up to bed," Arlana started up the stairs. "Aziel gets up so early," she stated the obvious.
"I'm coming too," Jorken set down his empty wine glass and followed her up the stairs.
No sooner were they in the bedroom then he decided it was time to lecture her over putting their food outside. She was unbelievably stupid - was she aware of it? Regardless, he was going to let her know.
"Shh, Aziel is sleeping!"
"Don't tell me what to do - ever!" He didn't wait for it to sink in before continuing his tirade about the groceries.
Arlana struggled to get a word in, "But I thought you'd be mad if I left it in the freezer and everything went bad. I constantly feel like no matter what I do, everything is wrong."
He either didn't hear her or refused to listen. It didn't matter. By 1 am he was still yelling, not caring that her son was just down the hall. Arlana did what she should have done earlier, picked up her pillow and headed for the couch.
"Get back up here!" Jorken shouted after her.
"I need to sleep! I have to be up in three hours!"
"If you don't come back I'll physically bring you up."
Thankfully, this once, his threat was empty.
Pulling a blanket over her shoulders, she listened to the bedroom door slam shut. A moment later their dog began whimpering, acting up. Marmaluke would continue for the next two hours.
Closing bloodshot eyes, completely exhausted, she felt warm breath whisper in her ear, "Mummy, it's morning."
"You've got to be kidding me..."
The moon was still high in the midnight black sky as Arlana started her day, her son sobbing by the front door for no other reason than he was exhausted but just wouldn't sleep.
Happy New Year...and so it begins.
****
ONCE AZIEL WAS FAST asleep and tucked into bed, Arlana curled up on the couch, settling down for some much needed quiet time. She sat alone in the subdued light, scratchpad by her side and laptop perched on her knees.
Arlana was trapped due to lousy decisions but was resolved her life wouldn't end that way. Creative writing was her lifeline, her God-given talent she'd shelved much too long. If she could get published, it could be her way out.
A memoir.
It appeared to be the perfect place to begin. Who knows my life better than me?
Touching her pen to paper, she began.
Avalon leisurely wandered through the tranquil cemetery following a winding path. Crunchy leaves protested beneath her well-worn, Sunday best shoes. She had no business in the final resting place of the dead, yet she sought out the solitude acutely conscious of the slightly ghostly hush of the long forgotten.
Avalon's eyes rested on one grave, reading words etched in stone. Some exhibited photographs of those who had once lived - downright creepy - their sombre expressions a haunting reminder that life is much too short.
Never skilled at mathematics, Avalon didn't bother to calculate their ages, concentrating instead on the epitaphs, a simple phrase which summed up their lives, a word of reassurance, or the more common three words, "Rest In Peace."
Wandering off the main passage, she entered the older segment, towering memorials standing centennial, all that remained of those who lived in the previous century. Were her ancestors buried beneath her feet? Not likely. Acadian blood coursed through her veins. Her forefathers were among the first French to settle in Canada. Laying claim to the land, they were dedicated and enduring - as uncompromising as the Rocky Mountains.
Avalon glanced at her watch. She had lost track of time. Quickening her steps, she withdrew through the cast-iron gate, leaving the shadows behind.
"Remember me," the wind appeared to call after her retreating form.
****
"WHAT'S THAT SOUND?" Aziel broke into her thoughts.
Arlana blinked back tears, focusing on the present. "What sound?"
Aziel stretched his neck, no longer swishing bathwater.
Arlana paused for a moment, "It's the neighbour upstairs filling up their bathtub."
"They're taking a bath too at the same time as me!"
Arlana wasn't quite as excited. If she could hear them filling their bathtub, how much could they hear? The walls were thin - validating the saying, "The walls have ears."
****
A GARBAGE BAG FILLED to bursting with soiled pine shavings, Arlana followed her son down the long hallway to the garbage room.
As usual, Aziel sprinted ahead hesitating just long enough to giggle, "You know you can never catch me!"
Arlana wasn't trying to.
"Oh hi," their neighbour unlocked her apartment door as Arlana passed. "I was hoping to see you."
In four years Arlana scarcely knew her neighbours let alone had gotten their names. She stayed in her apartment like a recluse, fearful of the sun and what it might expose.
Meg lowered her voice, "How are you holding on? It's okay, we won't say anything but the walls are so thin..." she cautiously explained how she was aware of Arlana's secret, glancing over to where Aziel played just a few feet away.
Arlana looked away, embarrassed.
"You know, travelling would be good for both of you. It would get your son out of the house and that environment and the memories you'd make... it will stay with him forever. I wouldn't mind giving you some pointers. I haven't been in business for a while as I'm retired now, but I made a good living from my photography and the extra money I'm sure would be good for you." He shuffled his feet.
"Thank you so much," Arlana blinked back tears at their kindness. "I'd love that."
"Then it is settled then. Why don't you both come over an hour after he leaves for work on Monday."
"Thank you," Arlana was clearly at a loss for adequate words to express her gratitude, but they didn't seem to notice or at least didn't want to embarrass her.
"You know, my grandparents took me in when they managed to flee Germany, raising me in South Africa. They were Orthodox Jews and even after all they endured and the loss of my parents, they never turned their backs on their faith," her husband eased the awkward silence.
Meg nodded. "David isn't as observant as his grandparents were though. He tends to keep his religion to himself." She chuckled, "I guess I am lucky that way. If he was more observant he never would have married me." Meg paused to explain, "I'm Catholic."
Arlana's eyes were wide. And all this time they were neighbours? How fascinating his story was!
"I tried raising Aziel Messianic...you know, Jewish but believing that Jesus is the promised Messiah. I find many churches have become so... I don't even know how to describe it. Disrespectful. Liberal in their beliefs, no longer preaching against sin. I wasn't raised that way, but then again..." Arlana didn't finish her sentence, well aware of how far she had backslid herself. "I started researching and discovered Hebrew Roots," she gestured with her hand. "We even celebrated Passover a few years back. I gave it a go but as with everything else...it just seems so hard to follow through with anything. I'm sure Aziel suffers the most. He has asked me to celebrate again...I just haven't." She was at a loss for words and couldn't seem to explain the struggle in her soul.
Meg came to her rescue. "I think it would be a good thing if you brought Aziel to church. I believe you would find more in common with Christians than with Jews. It is an entirely different culture... Have you tried the church across from the park?"
"No, I haven't. You are right. Aziel needs to meet kids and I could really use the fellowship too. I'll go on Sunday. I really have nothing to lose."