Leily’s Day Off

…among other things, but mostly, this is a chapter about Leily, and the chapter is a small portion of a fully-written first draft of a manuscript that is being posted slowly & steadily here and elsewhere at the discretion (/energy level) of the author/self-publisher. If you’d like to conventionally begin at the beginning, you may, or you may begin here and read in whatever order suits your fancy. No matter how you decide to consume these words, I hope (mostly) that there are few errors of spelling/grammar/etc. *peace*

[begin chapter]

She is having a rough time these days, and the problem is not really something about which she feels comfortable complaining. The reality is simple, she just no longer feels beautiful. When exactly the realization materialized cannot be known for certain, but she knows one thing: Life was better when she was beautiful. She wants to fully believe that the feelings are a result of something greater than the thing. Perhaps the situation tells not of a loss but rather, a gain in some other quality that reflects poorly upon her. Truthfully, however, she remains unwilling to acknowledge the extent in which her own vanity currently plays a role. Have people, she wonders, only enjoyed such a superficial aspect of myself? The question (in and of itself) is a sad one, especially when considering that she understands, if only partially, that the matter (in and of itself) is … how best to delicately state this … impractical, no … rare … no … uh, egocentric at best, narcissistic at worst. But why? Why a person cannot love thyself in such a … an arrogant way baffles her. People can praise and love internal qualities about the self, like one’s intelligence, skills, talents, abilities, but to love the self, simply for the way that it looks is frowned upon, disgusting, forbidden. A person can just as easily control his or her own intelligence as he/she can his or her own attractiveness, at least, that is what she thinks. What does it matter anyway? she concludes. There exists little to no chance that the way she feels today will be the way that she feels tomorrow, and she knows this. Thus, she brushes the notion from her mind, distracts herself with the unnecessary organization of straightening every shiny, little twisty tie in the shiny, little twisty tie box.

“Leily,” a person shouts with authority. “Yea?” she responds. “Get the starter ready for tomorrow,” the authoritative voice yells again from a back room. “Yea, I’m on it,” she acknowledges. “Do a quick sweep, first, please,” the person to whom the authoritative voice belongs states softly now as she, the authoritative person, pokes her head out from beyond the doorway of the back room. “Yea, sure,” Leily smiles and grabs the broom and dustpan set as she walks around the counter from behind the prepping and cashier’s area into the larger portion of the shop. Everything looks orderly enough, but a few items are running low. She returns to the prepping and cashier’s counter to grab a plastic glove, sets down the broom and dustpan set and puts on the glove. Decidedly, however, she thinks that she ought to sweep real quick since the sight of the broom and dustpan set might be a bit off-putting. “Ugh,” Leily quietly whispers to herself after realizing that she grabbed the broom with the already-gloved hand. “Dammit,” she whispers even quieter. Of the especially conscientious type, the owners/managers of the bakery find Leily’s work indispensable. Carefully, Leily sweeps the floor. Upon completion, she returns the unappetizing broom and dustpan set to their designated area, out of view from the appetite-inducing baked-goods for which customers enter the shop. Frustrated at her inattention, she angrily throws the wasted, vinyl glove into the trash can and washes her hands. With the dirty work completed for now, she grabs a fresh glove and takes a lap around the bakery, meticulously rearranging pastries of various sizes and shapes, flavors and types into the empty spaces left by their respectively purchased and assumedly consumed counterparts, using the gloved hand for general good and pastries and a set of tongs for allergy-aware products.

Two sets of customers each walk in after the other. “Hello! Let me know if I can help you find anything!” Leily cheerily greets. Both sets half acknowledge her with a, “Yea, thanks.” Leily quickly finishes up the rearranging and returns to the prepping and cashier’s area behind the counter, at attention. “Leily!” the authoritative voice shouts again, but then the authoritative person walks out from behind the back room and sees the customers, “Oh, sorry.” The authoritative person then taps the face of the watch on her left arm with the pointer finger of her right hand with the reminder that the preparations for tomorrow’s breads need to get going. Leily nods in understanding. The authoritative person waves a hand as she retreats to the back room as if also understanding the plight of customer service. Leily chuckles a small chuckle and returns her attention to the customers in the store. All four of them are meandering, seemingly with no intention or desire to buy anything. Leily takes a deep quiet, patient sigh within herself. And then, as if from nowhere, a girl appears just outside the bakery window. Leily quickly glances around to see if anyone else seems to notice. The girl looks young but not childish. She looks confused, Leily decides. “Uh, do you do custom cakes?” one of the women of one of the sets of couples asks aloud, with not even a glance toward Leily. Slightly startled by the woman’s voice seemingly directed at her, Leily responds, “Uh, no ma’am. We don’t even do cakes here at all.” Quickly she returns her focus to the girl who still stands outside the window. “Oh,” the woman who asked quietly exhales. The couple who apparently wants or needs a cake whispers amongst themselves, but Leily does not hear them since she pays them no attention. They leave.

Still standing outside, the girl continues to stare directly into the bakery, but she does not seem to be looking at anything in particular. Leily waves at her. The girl responds in no way. Leily decides to keep a close eye on her. The man of the other couple approaches the prepping and cashier’s area with a tray full of various pastries and a loaf of bread. “Do you need your bread sliced?” Leily asks. “Uh,” the man begins, and then he turns to face the woman who accompanies him, “Hon, do you want the bread sliced?” The woman who now also seems to notice the girl standing outside responds, “What?” “Do you want the bread sliced?” the man reiterates. “Oh, yea, sure, why not,” the woman answers. Then the woman turns her attention to Leily as she points to the girl just beyond the bakery’s window, “Hey, what’s with that girl out there?” “Sorry, ma’am, I don’t know,” Leily shouts over the noise of the bread slicer. Gently, Leily wraps up the couple’s goods, rings them up and bids them farewell, “Enjoy! Bye!” Leily watches as the couple exit the bakery and then stand for a moment staring at the girl who stares through the window. It looks like the woman is attempting to get the girl’s attention. Eventually, the couple walks away. A bit perturbed now, since Leily assumes the girl is causing unwanted attention while simultaneously driving away potential customers, she decides to approach the girl.

Leily pokes her head out the bakery’s front doors, “Excuse me.” The girl does not respond much less look in her direction. Stepping out of the store, toward the girl, Leily gently speaks as she reaches out to touch the girl’s shoulder, “Uh, miss?” And just as Leily’s hand lands on the girl’s shoulder, the girl crumples into a heap. Fortunately, Leily catches her as she shrieks, “Oh my god! Miss, are you alright? Help! Someone come out here!” No one immediately comes. Slowly, Leily lowers the girl to the ground, and as soon as the girl reaches the ground, she instantly sits upright. Knelt down, Leily falls back onto her butt in surprise. Quickly, Leily returns herself to a knelt, squatted position. The girl, seemingly unscathed and unaware of the events that just unfolded, opens her backpack and retrieves a sandwich that she then begins to consume. Confused and still shocked, Leily attempts to take care of the girl who does not really seem physically ailed, despite whatever psychological problems Leily determines must be present. The two exchange a few glances, and then Leily recognizes the girl from … from somewhere … school … no but they cannot be the same age … what is it then?, Leily wonders. Eventually, Leily calms down at the sight of the girl. Then the girl asks if Leily’s alright. “Do you remember me?” Leily asks in an attempt to figure out from where she knows this girl. The girl says no and even admits that she doesn’t even know how she knows Leily’s name. Leily’s wearing a nametag, of course. The two take a pause of seeming disappointment. The face of the girl penetrates deep into Leily’s mind as she racks her brain for a connection.

The girl makes a move to stand, and Leily assists the girl. Leily feels absolutely sure that she knows this girl from somewhere, and she has to know. Decidedly, Leily attempts to keep the girl around for awhile longer with continued questions about the girl’s physical state, “Are you sure you’re alright?” The girl responds with confidence that she is indeed fine. Still wanting to stall the girl, Leily offers, “Would you like a drink to go along with that sandwich?” The girl admits that she would, and the two come to the conclusion that water would be nice. “Alright,” Leily amicably states as she walks toward the bakery’s front doors; “I’ll be right back.” As soon as Leily walks into the bakery the familiar sound of the authoritative voice rings out at the same time that the authoritative person appears in the doorway of the back room, “Where the hell have you been? I’ve been looking all over the place for you.” “I was just outside. Some girl collapsed out there, and I was helping her,” Leily explains. The authoritative person looks beyond Leily out through the front window, “What girl?” Leily points out the window as she turns over her shoulder, “That girl,” but then she sees that the girl is gone. “Where’d she go?” Leily asks herself; “I came in to get her some water.” “Well, that was nice of you,” the authoritative person congratulates, “but seriously, get in here and finish the bread.” “But where’d she go?” Leily wonders aloud. “How am I supposed to know?” the authoritative person answers. Quickly, Leily runs back outside to see if she can see the girl walking away from the bakery. Not only does she not see the girl, but also, she sees no one at all.

Then, Leily is hit with the sensation of being pulled backwards through a tunnel of wind. Swirling, swaying, an expanse of large, rock buildings, a campus, she sees the girl approaching her through a courtyard, laughing. Leily’s thoughts surface, I did meet her at school. We were friends, but … how? Where am I? When was this? I don’t understand. The scene dissipates like watercolor paints on wet paper as more vibrant paints begin to drip, filling in the vanishing scene. An open, lush, green lawn expands out in front of Leily, she again sees the girl walking toward her. The girl speaks, but Leily cannot hear her. Reaching for her hand, the two hold hands as they walk through a fluffy patch of grass. Again the scene fades as a new one comes into clear focus. This time, the girl runs away from her toward the edge of a cliff. I know these mountains, Leily remembers. As the girl runs, Leily stops. Words are exchanged, but again, Leily cannot hear them. The girl looks angry or frustrated. Leily begins to walk away, but just as she reaches the path back down the mountain, she looks back again to see what the girl is doing. The girl laughs and waves. “You don’t matter,” the girl’s voice whispers through the expanse. Leily barely picks up the words. “What do you mean?” Leily asks voiceless. “With or without you, it’s time,” the girl smiles. And then the girl jumps off the cliff. The last thing Leily remembers is standing behind the prepping and cashier’s counter of this very bakery, looking out the front window.

Another thought surfaces, A dream? Reality begins to strike her mind as the blaring light of the Orbital’s sun comes screaming into her eyes. Leily blinks hard and then lurches forward as she vomits all over the walkway outside the bakery. The authoritative person throws herself through the front doors, “Leily! Are you alright?” “I don’t know,” Leily half responds. “Come on inside,” the authoritative person demands; “I’ll get you all cleaned up.” “But the walkway,” Leily stammers as she points to the pile of vomit. “Oh please, dear,” the authoritative woman dismisses; “You’re going straight home once I get you calmed down.” “But, but,” Leily attempts. “Shh,” the authoritative person hushes; “You’re going to be alright.” Leily hears the words of the authoritative person but does not feel comforted by them.

The moment of the girl’s leap from the edge of the cliff flashes repeatedly within her mind. Leily presses herself for the moment between the girl’s … suicide? … or joke? … and her, Leily’s, existence “now,” here in the Orbital. Nothing fills Leily’s mind in the in between of a life she feels she must have lived but that simultaneously feels like a … a dream … or a memory? Leily decides that she cannot distinguish a difference between the two at this point. She feels cold, but she’s sweating. The authoritative person continues to speak at her, but Leily does not respond. She does not know what to say.

[end chapter]

..until next time…continued here (when the “here” becomes linked to the continuation).