The Rift Between Pages

The Book

              "¡Aye, Valentine, ven a ayudar a tu frágil y vieja mamá!" Valentine propped their head up from their phone, responding quickly to Mamá, "Coming!" They set their phone down on the table next to them, heaving themself up from their comfy position lounging at the dining table. Valentine's family owned a small and homely bakery, selling cakes and items similar to such. Their mamá baked all of the deserts, shuffling her small but huggable frame across the kitchen floor from the oven to the counter. She enjoyed her work, although sometimes she struggled to run the bakery. Valentine's dad speaks English and Spanish, which automatically enables him the most reasonable option to run the counter. Mamá only spoke Spanish, so it was difficult for her to communicate to anyone outside of those who spoke her home language. Valentine was generally an athletic and well-built person, so when their mamá needed help carrying something, she simply called for Valentine.

              "This?" Valentine spoke, entering the kitchen and motioning to the large box on the counter, cluttering up the space Mamá would use to bake. "Sí, ¿puedes llevarlo al garaje, cariño?" Valentine nodded, pushing the box against their chest and holding it in the air, with a few grunts. They started out the doorway, before stopping to turn back to Mamá momentarily. "¿Qué es esto? Like, es bastante pesado." They said, mixing in a few English words as muscle memory. "Puedes mirar dentro y todo, nadie te lo va a impedir. Vuélvelo a sellar después, se lo venderemos a la nueva familia que se ha mudado al lado." Mamá responded, bribing a quick word of affirmation from Valentine. They brought the box out to the garage, just like Mamá said, and found a pair of scissors from their dad's toolbox. They scraped it across the long piece of tape covering the box's opening. They set down the scissors gently and peeled up the flaps of cardboard concealing the very heavy insides. What was sitting under a pile of dust, perfectly settling in the center of the large open box? 

              A book.

              "That's it...?" They gently brought their olive toned skin into the box, pulling out the book. It was insanely heavy, straining the muscles in Valentine's arms as they tried to retrieve it. Valentine slammed it down on the concrete beside the now empty package, coughing suddenly at the spray of thick dust erupting into the air. Holding their breath they wiped off a thin layer of dust still residing atop the old and cracked cover. It was an elegant looking book, the spine and edges of the cover and back lined with rusty-silver accents. The book itself was completely black though, the most likely hundreds of pages visible from the side of the book tainted with a dirty yellow effect, like what happens when teeth aren't cared for enough. One thing about the book specifically stood out, though. There was a chunky and sturdy lock clanking at every shift of the book, binding it shut. The book was only labeled with one ominous title: Shattered Glass.

              "Shattered...what?" Valentine muttered to themself, glaring harshly at the empty looking keyhole adorning the rusted padlock obviously. They remembered the words Mamá had said to them before they left the kitchen: "-the new family that has moved in next door." That's right! The family next door was going to buy this from us. But...when did we even get this book? 

              Valentine struggled but eventually succeeded in stuffing the book back into the box, pulling out a roll of tape from their dad's toolbox. They sealed the box again, standing from the ground they didn't even realize they were kneeling on, and heading back through the door. The passed Mamá in the kitchen, heading to the front counter where their dad was waiting, presumably for another customer. "Hey dad?" Their dad turned to face them with a hum, "Can I head over to our new neighbors? I want to welcome 'em, you know, introduce myself." Valentine waved to one of the regulars at one of the tables while waiting for their dad to respond. "Sure. I heard they have a son about your age, who might go to your school soon. Feel free to take the car anywhere. Keys are hanging by the back door, where the car's parked." Valentine nodded and hugged him, turning in their heel and jogging back into the kitchen. "Thanks Dad!" They shouted over their shoulder, heading out back to the door. 

              Soon, Valentine was walking on the sidewalk connecting all of the driveways on their street. They plodded nervously, fidgeting with the seams of their baggy jeans. They thought about what they should say to their new neighbors to greet them. Valentine really hated having to meet new people, but they were a bit curious at times. Valentine was soon at the door, gazing in awe at the pristine and seemingly untouched house. They just moved in? Damn, they had to have had moving trucks the speed of lightning or something. Valentine rattled their fist against the dark brown door, careful to not break the decorations hanging on the door with ease. Nobody answered. They waited a few minutes, not wanting to knock again, in case the family was ignoring them on purpose. At that point, they sighed and brought up their fist to knock again. This time, they heard shuffling, someone clearing their throat, and then the turn of the handle. The door creaked open, the light from inside pouring outside into the clear evening.

              "Why hello! You must be our neighbors," A middle aged white woman with bleach blonde hair down to her shoulder answered the door, a cheery and almost fake voice blaring through her perfectly straight and clean white teeth. "The...day-less?" Valentine internally cringed at the mispronunciation of their last name. "Yeah...the Delle's. As in Delle's Pastry House?" The woman chuckled flakily, waving her hand in the air, dismissing her mistake in a way. "Toe-may-toe, toe-mah-toe. Say, you were the ones that sold us that ancient book, right?" Valentine blinked, their dirt brown eyes circling around this woman's face. Her cakey and incorrectly color-matched foundation cracking around the ends of her lips and the outer tips of her large, uncanny blue eyes. "...Yes, that's what I wanted to talk about, actually." The woman smiled widely again, showing off her too-bright teeth. Valentine almost got a headache looking at them.

              "Of course! I won't keep you waiting out here. You can come in, leave your shoes by the door!" She said, backing away from the entrance, pushing the door to the wall. Valentine stepped through, kicking off their shoes and setting them by the welcome mat. "Care for some extra spicy Chai tea pared with madeleine cookies? We have powdered sugar!" She said, overenthusiastically. "Um-" Valentine started, before being immediately cut off by the woman. "What kind of host am I, I haven't even introduced myself! I'm Linda Cassh, but you can call me Linda." She poured a cup of tea and set up a plate of cookies. "Here, come sit with me, hun." Linda set down a cup, presumably Valentine's, and a plate of cookies at the far end of a short coffee table.