The Year of Necessary Lies by Kris Radish

Author:Kris Radish
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: SparkPress
Published: 2015-08-15T00:00:00+00:00

Tape Twelve

A Moment or Two of Resurrection

Boston—November 1, 1904

It was the coldest morning of the season, and when my feet touched the floor, I knew that it would not be long before snow would begin to fall and I would have to start sleeping with the window closed again. It had been a fitful night for me in spite of my new resolve to step forward and fly wherever the winds of life might take me. My dreams, vague scenes filled with a variety of troublesome events, had me rolling from one end of my bed to the other so when I finally woke, I felt as if I had not slept at all.

The day was ominous. The clouds had rolled in to fill up the sky and were hanging so low that it looked as if someone had dropped a dark veil over the entire world. I shook off my tiredness, my resolve for making the day the start of all things new and wonderful pounding through me as I dressed, and went to join the girls. I was unusually quiet and they made mention of it. I said I was tired, distracted by my dreams, and would be attending a meeting in the afternoon.

It is interesting how we might think we know what is approaching in our lives, but it is impossible to predict the rush of reality that awaits us. The girls had no idea what I was up to, and I trusted them but thought it best to keep them clear of my intentions. I also had no idea what awaited me, and when it’s all said and done, would we really want to know what we are walking into? I think not. Most of us would turn and run and then the world would stop spinning and everything would stay the same and life would be a dull reminder of what we could have had, what might have been, and who we could have become.

By the time I left to go back to the library, a slight drizzle had begun, and I decided to walk down and ride the street trolley, as the carriage did not have a cover. I occasionally took the trolley, but there was something lovely about using the carriage and slowly watching the world pass by and being in command of my own pace as well as my personal surroundings. The trolley was nearly full when I got on, and I immediately thought about all of the noise there was riding with other people and how, even though we lived close to the city, it was very quiet at the house. Quiet was apparently something I was realizing I was very fond of.

The trolley was quicker than I remembered and I was a bit early for the meeting. I was also anxious to see what Thomas Briggs looked like and even more eager to hear what he had to say to me. I looked at the daily newspaper for fifteen minutes.

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