by Tony C. Skye
It reads: Theresa Brea Dermott
Birth: July 15, 1975
Death:
She begins crying. Her shoulders shake as she pulls the open book tightly against her chest. With comfort refusing to make an appearance, Julianna closes the book. She has no desire to see her mother's missing entry again.
The emotional teen switches out the two white books for her mother's diary and a box of tissues. Leaving the center room's overhead light on, she slides deeper into her covers. She lies on her right side with a hand full of tissues in one hand and her mother's diary in the other. Julianna, finally, falls fast asleep. She holds on tightly to her mother's hands via the diary in which they once touched.
* * *
Click.
Martha's long red hair moves slightly as the two large double-doors to the library open inward. She steps across the threshold and heads for the library's main light switch. The auto-feature which detects life already within brightens the darkened library before she can reach the switch.
“You're getting forgetful in your old age,” Martha chastises herself while thinking of her granddaughter's presence.
The woman scrutinizes the open area of the large room. Her blue eyes catch the subtle changes within. The first row's ladder has been moved. She glances to the top shelf and sees an empty hole where two white books belong. Martha grins.
That's a good girl.
The woman's blue-floral full-length dress glides as she quietly makes her way downstairs. She examines her sleeping granddaughter.
Oh, you poor dear.
Used tissues lie on the bed. Martha can see her daughter's diary held like a teddy bear by her granddaughter. She wipes a forming tear from her right eye. The woman understands all too well what it is like to lose a child. And as horrible as it is to lose a parent, there is no comparison for losing a child. Even so, she knows it must be something awful to lose a mother at such a tender age. Julianna was only seven when Theresa died.
We've both been robbed, kiddo.
The sleeping girl moans as she stirs underneath her bed's coverings. Martha expertly moves out of the room like a quiet breeze. She enters the kitchen area and smiles. With both hands on her hips, the woman speaks,
“Okay, child. It's about time someone else does all of the cooking.”
She scans the closed cabinets as if she had some type of x-ray vision before her eyes find their way to the direction of the pantry.
“Pancakes it is,” Martha announces quietly, “And some eggs. Maybe some bacon?”
* * *
Julianna wakes up to the inviting aromas of her gram's early morning endeavors. She sits up and sees her breakfast silently waiting for her on top of the desk. She gets out of bed and walks over to her meal. A note sits folded against the warm bottle of maple syrup. Julianna unfolds the paper and reads the handwritten words silently.
Good morning my sleeping princess. I figured you might enjoy not having to cook. The silver will keep your food warm for a while.
The teen glances over at the expensive silver lids fit over each silver tray. She looks back to the note.
You should have plenty of time to take care of your woman business without it getting cold. No need to rush around. Take your time. I'll be in the glass room when you're done eating. It's the room on the first floor (upstairs).
P.S. Mouth hygiene is located on the shelves in the washroom area.
Love,
Grams
Julianna grins.
Already ahead of you, grams.
She places the note back on the desk and contemplates munching out before brushing her teeth. Thoughts of plaque-filled food quickly settles the matter and she turns around to head for the washroom.
* * *
Martha sees movement in her upper vision. She raises her head to see her granddaughter approaching from the stairs. The girl is dressed in one of her new pairs of jeans, and wears a beautiful black sweater decorated with gold trim below the neckline.
“Good morning, sleepy head,” Martha greets.
Julianna stops as she reaches the entryway into the glass room. She looks at her grandmother's dress and smiles.
“Good morning, grams. I see you're wearing your new clothes.”
Martha grins, “Well dearie, I couldn't come underdressed knowing you had all those new clothes yourself to wear. And by the way, you make them look really stunning.”
The woman winks and then motions for her granddaughter to enter, “Come now, I have something for you.”
Julianna ignores her gram's confidence builder and walks around a glass covered counter. It displays all sorts of jewelry, inks, pens, chalks, and paints – among other various items Julianna is not quite familiar with.
“Geezus, grams. This is like Lisa’s,” the teen speaks while staring at the fancy jewelry within the cabinet.
“I don't know who that is, dear,” Martha confesses.
“Lisa’s,” Julianna explains, “Don’t you watch T.V.?”
“You mean that jewelry store by the mall?”, Martha answers, “Oh no, child. This jewelry is for family only. There’s not a store anywhere with these designs.”
“Um-okay,” Julianna realizes she must have hit a nerve. She remains silent while she watches Martha reach into the counter. The woman pulls out a black box. She opens it and reveals an ink bottle.
Martha hands the black ink to Julianna, “This is black dragon's blood.”
The girl's dark eyebrows rise within her disbelief.
Martha pats Julianna's left hand, “Don't worry, child. There's no such thing as dragons.”
The girl tries to laugh off the absurdity of dragons ever being real, but no sound comes out. Instead, she halfheartedly grins. The amused Martha reaches back into the cabinet. She returns with a strange-looking pen in one hand and a pad of white paper in the other.
After sitting the pen and paper on top of the counter, the woman reaches back into the glass cabinet. This time she grabs a book and a pen holder. Martha hands her granddaughter the book entitled: “Calligraphy.”
“You may need to practice before you try writing in any of the library's books,” Martha instructs as she slips the pen into its holder. Julianna nods.
“Very well then,” Martha motions for her granddaughter to set everything down by the pen and paper, “That's not even the good stuff.” She turns and begins making her way to the back of the room.
Julianna follows her grams through the myriad of oddly placed glass countertops. They are not situated in rows, or even in a way to make the best usage of space. The teen debates asking her grams about it, but Martha interrupts her thoughts.
“Here we go,” the older woman announces. She motions for Julianna to come and inspect the merchandise.
The girl's eyes widen as she stares into the glass case attached to the backside wall. It houses the finest jewelry Julianna has ever seen. There are bracelets, necklaces, earrings, and stones. Lots of stones.
“Are all of those real?”, the astonished girl questions.
Martha laughs. “Yes child,” the woman informs, “Real rubies. Real emeralds. Real diamonds. Real everything.” Julianna's grandmother flips her right wrist downward to raise the drama, “Our family does not believe in fake.”
The woman waves her right hand in front of the large display case, “They each have their own purpose and meaning – except for the stones.”
She lowers her hand to her side, “They are all waiting for the right kind of design. And if you can think of anything, just let me know. You just might be a jewelry designer.”
“Um - no,” Julianna's shaky tone reflects her nervousness about such things, “I'll probably leave that up to you.”
Martha smiles as her granddaughter struggles to pull her eyes away from the glittering goodies. She continues, “You have access to everything in this room. After all, the library now belongs to you. But all I ask is that you respect our family's history enough to learn about something before you try to
wear it or use it. Deal?”
Julianna nods. Her heart pounds as she stares at all of the expensive jewelry.
Martha gently places her right hand upon her granddaughter's left shoulder,
“Not that there's anything wrong with wearing something because it is beautiful. There is absolutely nothing wrong with that. It's more about...all of the jewelry you'll find in here has a purpose other than a holiday sale.”
Julianna grins. Her green eyes move away from the onslaught of beauty to look at her smiling grandmother. Martha removes her hand from Julianna's shoulder. The woman points towards the glass case with her left.
“For today, we are getting this one,” Martha proudly announces. She steps forward and walks to the far right end of the four-door case. She reaches in and pulls out a silver necklace with a shiny black emblem hanging from it. The woman offers the necklace to her granddaughter.
Julianna's expression portrays both the excitement she feels for the new jewelry and the disbelief of having access to such wonderful things in the first place. She has never known such things. And she doesn't understand why. They were always here. Her grams has always been here. But when her mother died, her father cut her off from this side of her family. Not fair. Not fair at all.
“Go ahead, Julia. It is yours,” Martha notices the teen's reluctance to take the necklace from her hands, “The black is polished onyx. It's not highly valuable in a monetary sense, but its meaning is priceless.”
Julianna's hands tremble as she takes the necklace from her grandmother's eager hands. She slips the long necklace over her head and holds up the emblem to examine its design a little more closely. Tears cloud her eyes as she releases it to fall against her chest.
“It's like the symbol on the carpet with the words,” Julianna's eyes finds her grandmother's watchful gaze, “It's beautiful. Thank you.”
Martha pries, “And have we learned what those words mean?”
Julianna looks down regrettably, “No.”
The older woman lifts her granddaughter’s chin back up with her right hand.
“Never look at the floor like that,” the woman scolds, “You are of a mighty bloodline. You will discover this soon enough.”
Martha releases her shocked granddaughter, “I already knew you didn't know its meaning yet. You haven't been here long enough to read that much. I was only giving you something to keep an eye on. I can't outright tell you the answer. That's a violation of everything our family stands for. You must find your own answers. No one can tell you what or how you should believe. And that includes your old grams here.”
Julianna nods, “I'm sorry, grams.”
Martha pulls her granddaughter in for a hug, “Oh Julia, you do not need to apologize. You did nothing wrong to me.” The woman softly pats the back of her granddaughter's head. Her quite words matches her gentle touch,
“Whenever you live with regret for a mistake, you only serve to weaken yourself. Given enough time, you will have no strength left in you at all. Such people never succeed because they spend their entire lives fighting within themselves. They cannot move on. Be it fear of the past, fear of the present, fear of the unknown, it does not matter. Regret is a tool to teach us what it is we must change. But it is not a place we should always live. And we must always learn how to separate those things we can control against those things we cannot.”
Martha releases her granddaughter and takes a step back, “Do you understand?”
“Y-yes. I think so,” Julianna answers truthfully.
“Good,” Martha accepts the teen's response, “If not, just think about it.”
Julianna nods.
“Very well. Why don't you grab all of your stuff and put it in your room? I have one more thing to show you.”
* * *
After Julianna completes the simple task her grandmother directed, she makes her way back upstairs and stands upon the circle with its strange words. She looks again at the polished black emblem around her neck. It is a perfect match to the insignia within the floor's velvet carpet. Every curve, every letter, the circle with its star in the middle...there is nothing missing. Julianna wonders how much time something this intricate must have taken.
“Up here, Julia,” Martha calls out from the upstairs balcony.
The teen looks up. Her grams is waving for her to make the climb up the stairs. An equal distance either way, Julianna chooses to go up the stairs via the left side staircase. When she reaches the top, she notices a stone circle band with carved markings. The writings appear to be much like the ones carved into the upper walls of her bedroom. But unlike her walls, the stone band is held high into the air by twelve round pillars. They, too, are full of strange symbols and writings.
“Over here,” Martha directs from the center of the twelve pillars. When her granddaughter reaches the area, Martha continues,
“The flooring is specifically designed for chalk. Just like the chalk downstairs in the glass room. This area is referred to as a neutralizing zone. You can't mess anything up whenever you are inside these pillars. Always practice your skills here first.”
Neutralizing zone? Skills?
“Don't worry,” Martha immediately notices the confusion within Julianna's expression. “All of this will make more sense in due time. And I know how vague I am sounding right now. But I take our family oath very seriously. I am bound by it, just as you are.”
Julianna pauses while looking around at the stones. She reaches up with her right hand and gently traces one of the symbols etched into a pillar.
“I suppose I kinda understand,” Julianna reveals. “The family oath is more than about my mom's diary. Right?”
“It is,” Martha answers simply.
The girl lowers her hand from the stone and turns to face her grams, but Martha is walking towards the balcony. She follows her grams to the balcony's center and positions herself to her grandmother's right side.
“It's something else. Isn't it?”, Martha's voice adores the library's scenery. She catches her granddaughter trying to fake a smile. It is apparent Julianna is unable to enjoy the moment like she does.
Looking out over the library, Martha speaks, “I know your head is probably swimming for dear life right now.”
“Yep,” Julianna quickly confesses. The suddenness of her statement causes the older woman to grin.
“There's no rush to learn all of this, Julia,” Martha instructs quietly. The woman's blue eyes take in the three horseshoe-style bookshelves on the first floor. She continues, “You're not in any race. This entire library is yours.”
Julianna nods. She stands in silence with her grams for a few moments and eventually lets out an exhale of frustration. Martha catches it, but chooses not to say anything. Her granddaughter must learn to voice her own opinion like a woman. She must learn to speak out whenever something is bothering her. How to make up her own mind. To choose for herself. To stand behind her own decisions. And above all, her granddaughter must learn to trust in herself.
“Grams?”, Julianna breaks up the extended silence.
“Hmm?”, Martha answers. She turns to face her granddaughter, “What is it?”
“How am I supposed to read all of these books?”, the girl conveys her concern. She exhales another breath of defeat.
Martha's laugh startles Julianna. The woman pats her granddaughter on the back, “Is that what has your mind all tied up in knots?”
The teenager's confused facial expression confirms Martha's suspicion. She gently rubs Julianna's upper back in a circling motion,
“You have much to learn, dear. One of which is that you will choose your own path. And another would be that no one could ever read every single book. It is an impossible feat. I've spent many hours trying. It can't be done. Besides, it's not set up for that. Just keep doing what you're doing. Everything will fall into place where you decide they should fall. That's the beauty of this library. No one chooses for you.”
Julianna's small grin tells her
grams everything she needs to know. Martha smiles and nods her head towards the double-doors of the library's entrance, “Walk me to the door?”
* * *
Standing at the open entryway leading into the hall of candelabras, Martha explains further,
“Once a week on Saturdays, you can have any friends over you like. They must remain downstairs at all times. You must take care to lock up the glass room. To activate it, just say the words on your amulet loudly. And stay clear of the floor. The door rises from it. It's not that I wouldn't trust someone you trust. It's that we must do our best to never cause unneeded temptation. Understand?”
Julianna smiles widely, “You mean I can have friends over?”
“This is your library, Julia,” Martha remains calm, “And it is up to you to keep it safe.”
Julianna holds up both hands defensively, “I will, grams. Promise.” The girl pauses as she realizes her current friends do not like her anymore. They all blame her for what happened. Martha sees her discomfort. She steps forward and wraps both arms around Julianna with a hug.
“People may say they're a friend when they are not,” Martha speaks as her granddaughter begins crying with another episode of her grief. “They may believe they are. We may believe it. But friends are for life, Julia. Great distances cannot keep them out of touch. And they never turn their backs on you. But friends like these are few. The Lady Lanecia is that friend for me. And if any of your friends have turned their backs on you in your time of need, then they are not your friends. You have not lost them. They have lost you. And this is something you always need to remember.”
