SOLOMON'S BRIDGE {Part II/WORK IN PROGRESS}

SCARRED *18*

DIAMOND APARTMENTS

EDIMA

Did I tell you that I'm a nerd? I know it seems like my life is just a long stretch of solitary dark gray asphalt, but days like this, national holidays, when my shop is closed, with nothing much to do except sit by a glorious view to sweetly remenice, bits of colour did pop up on that road. I recall that while growing up in old St. Peter's orphanage, I used to live in a separate planet called books. After I ran away to Lagos, I found it a little difficult to focus in the real world, when I was not inside my books. Case in point: the fateful day I used a cooking pot to wash my bath towel, in front of my very first boyfriend, because he'd snatched Jane Eyre from me, right when Mr Rochester's house was burning down.

It took almost an hour for me to stop seeing the terrible, vengeful flames in my mind's eye, and even though that nice boyfriend dumped me within the hour, I was only worried about Mad Mrs Rochester, who must have started the fire and who was very likely trapped, on that floor her lecherous husband confined her to. How utterly unacceptable!

I'm the type of woman who walks calmly into a building people are running out of, screaming, just because I have to know what they are screaming about. I got my next boyfriend a King James 1611 Bible for his birthday, it even came with a free audio of old and new testaments, in a complimentary memory card, for his phone.

At this time in my life, I was getting very passionately zealous about "trying" to be rapture ready. Case in point: I inserted the gift memory card into his phone and played the audio Bible, only, it wasn't loud enough for him and his three beer guzzling friends to hear, so, naturally, I put the phone inside an empty tea kettle and placed it in front of the men on the center table.

I thought the kettle gave the book of Revelations a rather nice, booming echo. I didn't notice them leave, of course, I got totally caught up in the startling severity of man's precarious situation. My very handsome, boyfriend number two dumped me also, but I can't remember the details. Something about the sanctity of a kettle...

As I sit staring in front of the enormous glass window in my parlour, facing a view of the city, I try to lie to myself, and I refuse to admit it; but I'm lonely. I have kept busy these past years, shuttling between my shop and now, my mega BCC games arcade, amusement park. It's just that, the Irish grandparents who left me so much money, died, before my plane landed in Dublin.

Everyone that ever meant something to me, died before I could meet them. As sad as the orphanage was; I miss all those girls, my comrades in shedding tears. I miss all the nuns, and I miss Noghanyin, who is Jessica Harris, my neighbour down the hall. It irks me that she continues to pretend that we don't know each other. I always see her in town with the man in my vision, the one who is also searching for the Custodian. I've even seen her once, with Dr. Jay, I know she is a secret service agent.

It's, almost noon. Against the backdrop of a sunny blue September sky, the city looks quiet and restive. I can see the Castle, Justice Hall, from here, sitting atop Ephraim Hill, with all the hills rolling over themselves, a natural stoic boundary encircling the high rise buildings that arch the horizon, all of it adding to the poignancy of this tense pivotal moment. A moment I tell myself to reach out.

I sniff...my fair skin creamy and glowing with a sleek sheen of perspiration. The Air conditioner needs fixing.
The deep russet brown of the gown I wear compliments my famous purple eyes. I flash these eyes around till they settle on my flip phone. I didn't think about it, really. She's likely going to wonder how I have her number.