C is for Cafe 

She looks out the window. She is 9 again.

Just like every Sunday morning, Papa’s best friend, Edouard, is here to accompany us at breakfast. He stayed the night as Papa and him had some important business to discuss. I like it when he sleeps over at our house because he always brings me presents and reads to me at night. Papa never reads to me because he says he is always busy with work and Mama is too tired by the night to add another chore on her list.

I come out of my room and there he is, sitting on one of the rocking chairs along with Papa, smoking his morning cigar. I go to Papa and kiss his cheek to greet him the fine morning. When I reach Uncle Edouard to do the same, he stops me and says he has something important to tell me. Eagerly, I nod to allow him to continue and he tells me he is going away on a long trip as he is needed to supervise some of Papa’s businesses.

Witnessing my now upset face, Uncle Edouard asks what he shall bring me as a present this time when he returns from yet another one of his long trips.

After hearing this news, I run to the kitchen to acknowledge Mama and she only makes a grunting sound that explains she has heard me. Once I catch my breath, she tells me to go get dressed for church.

Back in my room, there is a neatly packed round box with a blue bow on top sitting on my bed. This is probably another goodbye gift from Uncle Edouard. Before reaching inside the box, I run towards the guest room which is mostly his and find him shedding tears by the window. He is lost in thought but clearly rather upset. As if he sensed me reaching out, he turns only to kneel down and envelop me in his arms.

I hold on tight, and dare to ask about his returning date to which he replies with silence. After an eternity of seconds, he offers me the harsh truth; he will not be returning as he is to stay this time and take care of Papa’s businesses.

Still in his embrace, Papa walks in just as Uncle Edouard asks me if I would miss him. Meeting Papa’s burning gaze I manage to stay quiet but soon I am being pulled away, and Uncle Edouard is being dragged out the guest room.

What happened next is a blur, but that was the last time I ever saw him.

I shudder with this unsettling feeling as I have for a very long time whenever my minds travels back to that day. I am 25 now.

Night after night for the past two weeks, I have managed to drag myself to sit under the harsh light of this 24-hour coffee shop on Queen Street west. I had only returned to clean away Mama’s possessions as it had been over two months since she had passed away. Although, I am eager to leave and never return again, Mama’s suitcase is holding me back because I know it holds the truth.

Tonight is the night, I decide.

I dig in her suitcase for the fourteenth time as I had been for the past 2 weeks in this same coffee shop. Almost shyly, I produce the the round plastic box, which holds the same pink packaging and a blue bow from 16 years ago. Under the packaging emerges a tiara and an envelope addressed to Mama.

Inside the torn envelope are the results to a DNA Paternity test. My DNA Paternity test.

Child: Vicomtesse Antonia
Father: Edouard Bernard
Mother: Isabelle Antoine

As the truth unravels, like a little girl, I smooth back my hair, and proudly put on the tiara. The tiara from Uncle Edouard, my father.

In the same coffee shop, I now write a letter to the factory where he been sent in search of my father. And in this very own coffee shop, I will now wait for his reply.

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This piece was initially inspired by one of my personal essay’s prompt: The significance of memory of past on an individual. The text that I chose was a short story called The Suitcase Lady by Christie Mclaren.

*** Based on the prompt of U is for Underground

B is for Bookshop 

When I first walked into the shop, I was the only person in here, aside from the strange looking bearded owner guy. Strange because he was in a mix match of a t-shirt and a sweatshirt on a hot like today. My initial thought after making eye contact with his was what if he’s a talker? Should I just walk back out? I had a bad morning at home and I just wanted to be alone, somewhere quiet, so I stayed. I forced myself to walk to him and asked for the WiFi password like a read mature individual, which I’m really not. Despite working at a fast food place as a cashier, I still get terrified if I have to talk to strangers. It’s like stepping out into the big scary world all alone where you can’t ask your mom to do things for you. I’m alone right now, typing away. I’ve been alone since I walked out from all the screaming and chaos at home. People asked to hang out with me today again, but I refused because no, not today. I need this date with myself and no one else. Just to know that I’m still here. Just to remember that it’s okay for things to move at a fast pace sometimes before it slows down again.