The Plan: Part 1

by J. A. James

  "Hey!" the man exclaimed. "Oh... I'm sorry," Halva mumbled to the ground before she jettisoned down the steps. She felt like she was turning into a block of ice. She was cold; but furious inside. It was almost too much to bear. Before she reached her car, she stopped in the middle of the empty lot.

  My mother. Hurt. Somebody hurt my mother. She radiated with fury that seemed to grow by the minute. Why did people do this to each other? She didn’t have an answer. She didn’t know who she wanted to strangle more – the teacher, who in all likelihood was dead – or her goddamned father, who had the nerve to show up at the funeral.

  Hot tears began rolling down her face, and her stomach twisted suddenly. She picked up a small rock at the side of the gravel lot and picked it up, hurling it at the empty wall where it met with a resounding crack and bounced off, nearly hitting a car parked two feet away.

  "Hey!" a voice suddenly shouted, as Halva crumpled to the ground in a sobbing heap. She didn't look up to the voice; she just kept crying.

  She had never allowed her mother into her life after she'd left... but how many secrets like this one did her mom keep from her? She was struck by the notion that she had never known her mom. Not one iota... and now, she had no chance to ask her questions, or tell her how much she loved her anymore.

  Gone. Everything was gone. Halva remained crumpled in a ball, sobbing with an intensity she hadn't experienced before. Minutes later, her sobs wound down and gradually she became silent.

  A voice: "Are you ok?" That same voice - a male voice.

  He was still here? Halva nearly jumped at his words now, and looked at the tan coat and dark shoes in front of her. "Oh," she rasped out. She felt dead inside and had no energy left.

  She saw a tissue in front of her, and took it gratefully. She attempted to wipe at her eyes and still-running nose, not knowing that else to say.

  And then, a hand was extended. "Here," he offered. Ordinarily, she would have just gotten up herself. But she felt weak, and demoralized by the news that seemed to have slowly detonated within the office and hit her in the wake of a second-wave explosion.

  She took his hand, as it pulled her up.

  "Thank you for the tissue," she said softly as she shouldered her handbag.

  "You have quite a throw," he replied, a slight smile curving over his creased eyes.

  Halva managed a wan smile back. "Look, I was just leaving... and... I didn't hit anything. Sorry," she said as she turned to quickly walk away.

  "Wait," the man called out, and something in his voice made her slow down. "My name is Jonathan Darmes. I’m the principal here."

  Halva turned and looked at him through a veil of mussed up hair, a small seed of curiosity lighting up from his words. He was quite tall. Dark brown hair; brown eyes. Trim. He wore a decidedly principal-ish brown tweed jacket and tie. He dressed like he was sixty, when Halva could hardly put him over his mid forties.

  "I am sorry to have caused a disturbance," she said softly to him.

  "What did my secretary say to you?" It was the way he asked the question that made her pause. He asked quietly, without demand. If she told him, she didn't think he would get Margaret into any trouble.

  She brushed a lock of hair behind her ear, staring at a lonely small evergreen attempting to sprout up behind the parking lot's skinny wooden partitions that lay around the perimeter of the lot. The tree was like me, she realized. Trying to survive in a wilderness of rocky, parched no-man's land. Her eyes suddenly welled up at the thought.

  The thought again of her mother nearly sent her over the edge. She held the tissue to her nose, as it started to run again. "Um," she whispered. "It was about my mom. I wanted to find something out and it was really bad news. She just passed away."

  She nodded back at the brick building behind them. “I – I went to this school too. For a few years.”

  "I'm so sorry to hear that."

  "I do have to go soon," she said. "My flight's in the morning and I still have to pack - "

  She stopped for a moment, thinking. “Actually,” she said. “Do - do you have some time right now?”

  She noticed that he looked at her then with a question on his face. She felt bad that he had witnessed her whole meltdown. Oh, hell, she thought. She was already here, and he had seen her at her worst. What else did she have to lose?

  "Can I take you for a tea, before you go?" she ventured. "There's a little shop just two streets down. If it’s still there, of course.”

  Answers. Maybe, he would just have a few more answers for me, Halva thought.

  He checked his watch. “I could do that. And that shop is still here. I’ve been here for about six years. Your mother… and you, were both before my time.”

  She nodded. “It’s alright. It’s more just…having someone who might know a bit more about the school than I would.”

  She wiped her nose again and tossed the soggy tissue into the bin as they headed to the tea shop.

  The tea shop was a rustic little place, held together by wooden beams overgrown with long green trellises. It was oddly comforting to see it was still there despite the passage of time.

  Halva glanced inside; it was bustling for a tiny place that seated maybe twenty inside. She was grateful for the few sets of cast iron tables and chairs outside; she didn't particularly want to be around too many people at the moment.

  They ordered with the waitress and took a seat by the window.

  When the tea arrived, she closed her eyes as she took a sip in silence. She let out a small sigh, feeling a bit of comfort in the warmth that slowly filled her.

  "My mother was assaulted by one of your teachers." She blurted it out, embarrassed by the suddenness of it. The shock of saying it, as if he was responsible even by association. She saw his eyes widen immediately.

  "What?"

  "I mean… he’s not there anymore. I just found out... I freaked out." Halva continued talking, her eyes becoming unfocused and gazing off into the distance. "I never knew my mother... I attended your school too. But I never finished. I ran away from home because I couldn't stand my father and he beat me all the time..." her voice then trailed off.

  "I am so sorry," Jonathan said.

  Halva's hands wrapped around the steaming cup of tea. She felt as if the porcelain cup was the only thing helping hold her together at the moment.

  "I just don't know what to do. Really, there's nothing I can do. I - I was just in shock. I wanted to come here and find some answers because -" she stopped then. She didn't want to tell him about the rock in her purse. He would definitely write her off as a nut. But what could she say about it? She was trying to put together pieces that didn’t even seem like they belonged in the same puzzle.

  "Wait," he said softly. She looked at him.

  "I know the incident you're speaking of. It was mentioned to me when I first started because it was such an ordeal. The rule had come into place of having at least one lead female chaperone for the students on field excursions.”

  Halva looked at him again. "Yes. She was the one."

  Jonathan spoke again. "As far as I can recall, we never did have any other trips that went so far as that one. The teacher taught a band and it was such an exotic place to go to. I think the teacher used to be from the region. So hence the trip."

  He paused for a moment. "That's all I can tell you. But, for what it's worth..." he paused for a moment. "Do you remember any good times with your mother?" he asked her.

  Halva, without realizing it, had reached into her purse and was thumbing the stone, which had a comforting groove which she was slowly rubbing.

  She was startled by his sentence. "Oh," she said then, and smiled slowly at a sudden memory. A fondness and warmth of love came through her, washing over her. "Yes. I do remember. When my father was away at work, she would take me to the park sometimes. We would play on the swings, and then we would go to a coffee shop nearby like this one and--"

  Suddenly, a memory overwhelmed her. But it was not one
of her own. The voices were muffled, but suddenly, she saw - a dry, dusty and hot place. Men in turbans and shrouded in long robes around them, and she was running. She had been running for a long time; and stopped, then, exhausted. There was a man sitting at the end of the stone alleyway, who seemed to look right at her.

  She should have been afraid, but she wasn't, of him, strangely enough. He had a long white beard and a turban that sat like an oversized white crown on top of his head. He sat, cross-legged, back erect on a small piece of carpeting. He had numerous bronze trinkets in front of him.

  Come. He gestured with one wrinkly hand, reached out, beckoning to her slowly. His eyes were milky white. He was possibly blind. Come here.

  She came forward. She was tired, hungry, and exhausted. She had been running for days. Hadn’t slept in a week, it felt like. And lost. She was lost in a sea of strange, dark-skinned people. But at this point, she’d wanted to get lost. I don’t want to be found…

  He seemed to notice this, and poured her a cup of water from his bronze teapot with an elegantly long and thin spout, curved and poised like an elephant trunk. He passed it to her, which she gulped down greedily.

  You are a special child. You are loved by Us. You will find protection in your heart.

  Although he did not seem to speak, strangely, she seemed to hear his words as she drank the water.

  She drank a second cup of water, and then a third. When her thirst was quenched, she stopped to finally look at him. Thank you, she murmured.

  Thank you, sir.

  She bowed her head down, then, unsure of the customs to thank someone.

  His eyes looked at her. You are special. Never forget.

  She didn't answer his words, only listened.

  He withdrew something from his inner robes. I have been waiting for Someone like you for a long time.

  He held the stone in the palm of his hand.

  Keep this with you, and may it keep you safe. Trust yourself. And love yourself.

  He held it out to her - a black onyx stone with a grooved surface on it. There were small thatched marks on the grooved instep. He began to sing a song she couldn’t decipher, with eloquent tones and long syllables.

  His song went on for a minute, and then he stopped. Then she heard him say the words: Bring yourself to higher vibrations to access your Soul's intuition. There is Love that is meant to be yours.

  She took the stone, and felt the warmth of it pass into her. She was awestruck by the wave of love and warmth that held her in a sudden cocoon. Tears began to pass and roll down her face. Forgiveness. Love. Letting go...

  The montage suddenly faded, and she felt herself being whirled away from the love, the warmth.

  Halva suddenly was jolted back into her seat, where she was staring at Jonathan, her mouth open and frozen.

  "Oh, my God!" she suddenly yelled out. Gasping, she dropped a rock on the table.

  A few onlookers from the street glanced at her.

  She was shaking from the moment. It had been her mother. It had definitely come from… that. She stood, then, shaking slightly from the profoundness of the moment which had come into her.

  "Oh my God,” she said again, this time in a softer voice.

  "Are - are you OK? You look like you’ve just had a shock. What's wrong?" he asked her with concern. “Your eyes - you looked like you were dreaming for a moment.”

  “Pet rock?” he asked, then looking at the rock that had dropped with a clatter on the table.

  "I can't believe it!" she said again, her eyes widening, this time at him. "I just - I just saw what happened to her!" Her hands were trembling.

  Jonathan looked at her with uncertainty. "We were just talking about her," he said quietly.

  Her eyes searched his. "Are you a...a religious man?" she whispered then.

  His brow furrowed at her words. "Well," he said uncertainly. "Not really. I wouldn't say that I was."

  Halva leaned in. "Look, you're going to think I'm completely crazy, but I just had a flashback. And I think it was my mother’s!"

  He looked at her, frowning slightly. "Okay. And have you had these flashbacks before? I’m getting a bit concerned. I know where the hospital is. I can take you there, if you wish."

  She shook her head at him furiously. "No!" she said. "Can you take me to someone who knows something about...about..." she felt at a loss for words. What exactly was she looking for who could give her some answers? A flash of inspiration came to her. "Can you take me to a shaman? A fortune teller?"

  "What?" he exclaimed. He emitted a slow laugh, and put up his hands. "Look, I'm sorry, but I just wanted to check that you were okay. I'm not going to be taking you to our local fortune teller - "

  "Well, that's what I need right now," Halva interrupted him. She looked at him, aher voice pleading. "Please. I don't think you'd understand... but..." The suddenness of the moment of her mother with that man seemed all too real. She had never been the type of person to make up stories and daydream...so what on earth was this about?

  "God, it's getting late now," she murmured. She didn't have any time to waste anymore. She got up, pushing her chair back. "I'm sorry. You're right. You were kind enough to take me here, and it's just that I’m suddenly getting these intuitive flashes and… my mother just died. It’s all happening at once.”

  Her eyes suddenly filled with tears again, and she fought them back valiantly. “I’m - I’m not normally like this,” she apologized, trying to keep her voice steady. “I just have a bit of time right now to try and find someone... to help me find some answers. I think it’s just about closure.”

  She felt her voice get tight and small again. Closure. Could she find any, after so many years of having banished this part of her life to a dark corner in her mind? Somehow, the Pandora's box had opened again, and she had to find a way to get the lid closed on it again.

  "Look," he said to her slowly. "I understand you might be under a lot of stress right now, with your mother. My condolences to you. If I take you to someone… I hope it will bring you something like closure. Promise me that this will settle you a bit. And that you won't need to find or do anything else before you leave."

  “Thank you,” Halva said gratefully. And she truly was grateful for this stranger offering his time. “It would be really lovely of you.”

  She saw him flash a quick smile, a sympathetic one at her. He was being kind, she realized. There were still some kind people in this world. Then she realized why she had thought it. When was the last time she had met someone outside of work, to talk about something other than work? She couldn’t pinpoint it. It had been a long time...

  She followed his car just a few minutes away from the coffee shop. As they parked outside, she looked at the front windows. The curtains were shut, but a light seemed to be on, glowing outwards.

  The house was done in a style that was replicated on the whole block - two stories, square wooden frames with most of it in disrepair. Most of the neighborhood was as such - not many people made the effort to tend to the gardens or homes, with their small populace growing at a distinctive gap. Either they were empty nesters on the brink of retirement or young families with little to no time on their hands.

  "Her name is Zelda," Jonathan said, as they opened the doors. He glanced at her. “Her children go to my school. She is known as the local fortune teller.”