The Killing Scripture

by Afshan Jaffery

“Because you are not getting married. All girls of your age have been married now.” Lucy’s face was contorted with repulsion.

  “You know this is not true.” Alicia lost her temper in the face of this blatant lie. “I had proposed to move with Cady, but you didn’t let me, and by the way, she is also of my age, and she is also not married.”

  “Cady? That whore? You want to live with Cady?” Steve cursed her friend, and that was enough to send her over the edge, but before she could say something, Flora stood up.

  “Enough.” She said in the loud voice which seldom comes out of her mouth. She usually had a soft, friendly manner of speaking. When she stood up during a conversation, no one in Stone Manor dared to talk back.

  “Go to your room.” She told Alicia and then turned to her sister and brother-in-law. “I don’t want to hear about this guy anymore. There is no point in discussing this subject until Alicia gets a full-time job. We cannot leave everything to fate.”

  Flora joined her in the attic a few minutes later, where she was mindlessly scrolling her Facebook feed.

  “Let’s go shopping.” The older woman suggested.

  “Not in the mood.” She replied without looking at her.

  “Pizza?”

  “Not in the mood.”

  “Books?”

  Alicia raised her head and looked at her, and then they both smiled together. Reading was the only hobby she had since childhood. Whenever an ugly spat broke in the house, she used to hide in her room and read a book. Books were always gentle and blissful to her, like a mother’s lap. Flora knew her obsession with stories and often gave her books.

  “Thanks, but I have still not finished the previous batch.”

  “Then go for window shopping.” Flora dragged her out of her floor bed.

  Flora had a white fiat five enough for the aunt and niece to roam around the town aimlessly.

  “You know that you had to get a job eventually,” Flora said while driving. It was difficult for her to get into the driving seat due to her weight, but she was mortally afraid of letting Alicia take the wheel.

  “I am trying.” She said in a robotic manner; a stock answer for a stock question.

  “It has been four years, and you are an L.L.B. Somehow it is difficult to accept that there are no jobs for a lawyer.”

  Alicia had finished the law graduate program a long time ago, and it all felt like a dream. It was me, or somebody like me? Perhaps I am the ghost of that girl.

  “Look this is a small town, and there are not many legal jobs around. There are plenty in London and Cambridge, but I am not allowed to go out of town.” Alicia said.

  “Well, they are right in this instance. It is a dangerous world out there for a girl to live alone.”

  “And I am twenty-six years old, for God’s sake.” Alicia hated it when she was treated as a teenager.

  “You want to play this card? Fine. Get a boyfriend and move out. I will convince Lucy and Steve personally.” Flora stopped the car at a Pizza franchise.

  “Stop messing with my head,” Alicia muttered lazily. If getting married was her parent’s favorite topic, then getting a boyfriend was Flora’s favorite subject.

  “You know the problem, Alicia. You are not moving on.” Flora said sympathetically after ordering pizza for both.

  “No. The problem is that I am forced to start new relations, while I don’t want to. I am getting forced to do things so that others can sleep peacefully at night. Nobody is happy in my happiness, yet I am forced to make them happy.” She said. “All I ask for is to have my own experiences in life.”

  “Really? What life-changing experiences you have in last four years? At least you had a life before it.”

  “I want to, but I have no means. Cady had offered me to live with her in London. I can still go there and look for a job.” Alicia said.

  “Why are you so determined to move out of town?”

  “It is hopeless here.” She looked at the pizza shop’s take away window. How often she had come here in her college days. There were memories everywhere she went, and the problem with memories is that they look like mistakes after a while.

  “You are mourning over Harry,” Flora said quietly.

  “I have told you many times. I don’t want to talk about him,” Alicia said coldly. Every time Flora talked about Harry, instead of the burning fire of anger, she felt lifeless and cold, and today was no different either. She never understood why people must discuss life goals on birthdays as if they evaluated whether they deserved to be born or not.

  2

  A CASE OF MISSING BOOKS

  Next morning, she felt better as the horror was over for the next twelve months. Except for her birthday, she usually stayed in the attic and avoided face-to-face conversation with her parents. She thought about her talk with Flora while frying sausages for herself in the kitchen. It was around eleven o’clock. Flora and Lucy were both off to work. Steve was busy watching the news and waving fists at the screen.

  “Flora,” she sighed. The nature of her relation with Flora was that she listened to her; whether she liked it or not, but somewhere unknowingly, she paid attention.

  She knew one thing that if she didn’t get a job, Flora would keep thinking she missed Harry which was not true at all. After her breakup with Harry, she experienced random mood swings which she was used to even before but the frequency was increased. There was extreme hopelessness about her future which she had never felt before. She knew she could not tell this to anyone, neither Flora nor Cady. Flora was still hoping for Harry to come back and Cady had become too busy with her job in London. She had thought about it a lot before finally going into therapy. She knew she needed professional help, but that backfired in the worst possible manner, as the psychiatrist she hired, started stalking her on Facebook. She tolerated it for few days, but then it became increasingly uncomfortable for her to be alone with him, so she stopped going to the therapy sessions.

  She thought about Flora’s offer: Get a boyfriend and move out. She could count on Flora to keep her words because she always did. Now all she needed was a boyfriend to break free finally. Once she went to London, there would be no coming back. She might ask Flora to come and live with her once she gets her own place. But where to get a boyfriend? She could try to get a job and then maybe; someone might help me in bypassing this barrier.

  She entertained the thought for few minutes and then opened her laptop, and searched for jobs in the area. For the past few years, she was only applying for law jobs, but now circumstances were different. Any job would do in this situation. Data entry operator, Typist, Customer Service Rep, Bookstore Manager??? Requirements: A good looking person with an excellent way of communication, who can control a team of workers, maintain standards of hygiene, and keep an eye on merchandise of the shop with hard work and diligence. Having an interest in reading will be a plus.

  Except for the part of the excellent way of communication, she thought she was qualified for the job. She could easily get an A plus on hygiene. She often compensated her lack of fashion sense with her tidiness. The attic was always the cleanest part of the house any day. She could keep an eye on books as well because she was keeping an eye on her own books since childhood which her mother desperately wanted to throw away at any day, and for the part of the interest in literature was concerned, she was a pro. She could tell by a person’s dress what does he read. Does he secretly like Gay Erotica or a She-wolf romance? And if everything else fails, there was always Jon Snow to discuss. Everyone loved that bastard apparently, except her. His curly hairs made her remember Harry a lot. He was also a bastard, she thought gloomily. Bastard, bastard, stay away from curly hairs.

  She picked the file from the side table which only contained a single page summarizing her academics, and peeked out of the attic. The first floor which had bedrooms in it was quiet as Steve was in the living room on the ground floor. She always came out of her room like going out in a curfew zone. Walk without noise. Keep
looking around and also behind. She quickly made it to the door on her toes without attracting any attention and slid out of the main door. It was little cold outside but manageable. Clutching her file to her chest, she turned and looked at Stone Manor.

  It was an old Victorian house made after the Second World War, never repaired after that. She tried to remember when was the last time it was painted. It must be before Flora moved with them which meant at least sixteen years ago. The furniture was old, rusty and going to crash soon on its own legs, but Steve didn’t like buying things unless it went entirely out of order. It was a common practice to throw tissues and wrappers on the floor which Alicia would keep picking the entire day. Just a visit to the house would tell you that the residents do not care about their surroundings. She walked secretly wishing she could walk away forever.

  The bookstore was not far away from her home. It was hardly a fifteen-minute walk. Turning a corner, she saw a big home decor shop which she always lusted after. If she had enough money, she would have bought the whole shop by now. There was a large antique mirror with the wood carved frame on display. Passing by, she looked at herself as she had forgotten to check her appearance before leaving the house. She was looking—shabby—all right. She winced slightly looking at her reflection; black jeans, purple tee with full sleeves, hairs tied in a knot. She was looking like a jobless divorcee which was not wrong entirely. She was unemployed and also been through a nasty breakup. She took her hairs out of the knot and tried to straighten them with her fingers. She loved her hairs more than any other part of her body. She could categorize herself beautiful with open hair. Although, nobody liked them much, not even Harry. He always complained about them. Curly-hair looks suits guys only. Straight hairs are in fashion for girls these days. You look fat with open hair. She kept setting hairs and examining herself in the mirror. Just after few minutes, she started looking like a happy, bubbly girl. There is some magic in my hair; she would like to think. She took out nose powder from her bag and powdered lightly. She gave a final look in the mirror and smiled, made a face and stuck her tongue out. Just then, a face appeared behind the mirror and dragged it inside the shop. She blushed with embarrassment and quickly resumed her journey to the shop.

  She tried to think about questions that could be asked in the interview, and she already knew the most dangerous one. Why do you want to be a bookstore manager with a grad in law? Why do you want to change your profession? What she would say in response, that law books were scaring her, that there were memories inside every act, amendment, section, subsection, clause, and sub-clause which made her feel sentenced for life? She kept covering distance fighting with her thoughts.

  Few minutes later, she saw the black brick building of Bell, Book and Candle Booksellers. Alicia had never been there because they sold new books which she could not afford to buy. She was living on charity bookstores since her childhood. It was exactly like the bookstores that looked like candy shops to book lovers—black brick exterior—which gave the medieval feel and tall book racks taking a peek out of large, glass windows. The front of the bookstore was covered with plants in large angular pots. Whoever, was in charge of decoration, had an eye for such things.

  She cleared her throat and entered. The white marble floor was shining under her feet and walls were not visible at all because they were covered with books from top to bottom. There were rows of bookracks, placed in the middle of the shop and each was watched upon by a supervisor wearing a black trouser and shirt, with a badge of his name on his chest. Some customers chatted enthusiastically leaning on a modern lounge and sofas near the checkout counter waiting for their turn. The teenage guy, with the spectacles, sitting on the checkout counter was punching keys hurriedly on the keypad of the payment terminal in front of him. She slightly felt uncomfortable. She had no idea that it would be as big as a small departmental store. There were lots of coffee tables placed around the corners of bookshelves containing latest books on dieting and weight loss. Seriously? She always felt bitter when she saw this type of stuff stacked up in front. These are not books, for god’s sake. These are gimmicks. The guy on the checkout counter looked at him and smiled nervously.

  “How can I help you?” He asked her politely.

  “I am here for the job interview.”

  “Oh.” He looked at her skeptically and picked the telephone receiver. He quickly dialed a number.

  “Sir! There is a lady for the job vacancy.”

  He listened for few moments and then told her to go up. She found the staircase and quickly stepped up. The staircase was also covered with diet and weight loss booklets on both sides. What’s wrong with this shop?

  The first floor was a mirror image of the ground one, except there was no checkout counter. Alicia asked a supervisor, and he guided her to a large room at the back of the bookshelves. She took a peek inside the room through the glass wall and saw a man working on a typewriter. Typewriter? Who uses typewriter these days?

  Alicia knocked the door with her heart beating loudly in her ears. It was the only job in ages which she actually felt hopeful about getting. She bit her lips in anxiety.

  The man behind typewriter did not change his position. His long fingers were running smoothly on the keys. His face was hidden from her sight. She breathed heavily and knocked again—a little louder this time. He jerked his head and stood up. He was a lanky man, with shoulder-length hair. His face was pale, and the frame of long black hairs, around it, was making it even paler. Through the glass, she was unable to see more. Within two seconds, the door was opened, and the man welcomed her in. For a second, Alicia stared with wide eyes at his graceful face containing the glummest set of eyes she had ever seen in her life.

  “Hi! I am Alicia.” She stuttered. He nodded and returned to his seat, waving his hair behind. She took a deep breath and entered.

  The room was not large but still large enough to be the office of a single person. Except for that, it looked like anything but an office. The brick walls were deprived of any type of room décor, except for a tv screen mounting on one wall. A desk was placed in the middle of the room with few comfy chairs around. There was a computer as well.

  “What are your qualifications?” Settling back, he resumed his typing without looking at her.

  Alicia fumbled. “I am a law graduate.”

  “What is your job experience?”

  “This would be my first experience. I had done a paralegal job for few weeks during my studies.”

  “And why do you think you are suitable for this job?” Tick, tick, tick, his long fingers were running smoothly on the typewriter. They were abominably white and long as of a sculptor.

  “I am … very fond of books.” What a lame reply it was.

  “What are you doing these days?” The typewriter was an old machine but still very well maintained. Its black surface was glistening and reflecting light. She tried to guess his age. There was not a strand of white hair on his black head, yet he did not look like a young person. There was something oddly sad and timeless about him which made anyone second guess his age.

  “Searching for a job.”

  Finally, he looked at her. “You are a law graduate. Don’t you think you are committing professional suicide?” There was sincerity in his voice and something in his eyes that moved her. He cared. She stared at him mindlessly as if her brain could not process the new information. They had care and pain locked together which was an unusual combination.

  He raised his brows in emphasis that he wanted a reply.

  “I am not capable of accommodating professional development in my life right now.” She said.

  “You think a fondness for books is enough to manage such a big store?” He rummaged the pile of papers beside the typewriter.

  “No, but that is the first necessary step. It is much better to have a passion for something and no experience than too much experience and hate your work.”

  “Most of the people working here have experience of wha
t they do. Do you think they would follow your order after knowing that you are less experienced than them?” He set aside the typewriter and sat back in a relaxing position, finally giving her his undivided attention which made Alicia nervous. She turned her neck thinking about a witty reply. One of the supervisors winked at her from behind the glass wall. He was the same man who showed her the office earlier. He winked at her, showed thumbs up and then went away chewing.

  “I think it is very easy to be experienced at mediocrity.” She said and then instantly felt horrible. Here goes my single hope of getting the job. Wasn’t it the first rule of giving interviews that you were not supposed to belittle other people?

  The man pressed his lips and looked at her skeptically. Few seconds passed in silence then he spoke. “There is a situation here that you should know before joining.”

  She kept looking at him questioningly.

  “Our inventory is going missing.” She took a moment to get what he was saying then it dawned on her.