Chapter 1
Evelyn
November 9th, 1935
Heavy steps came marching up the spiral staircase. I could hear mindless chatter all the way from the kitchen. Mother was having tea with the neighbor from across the street. The door to my room was open just a crack. The recording of Benny Goodman could be heard from the parlor. “Sing, Sing, Sing everybody start to sing like dee dee dee, bah, bah, bah dah, now your singing with a swing…” I hummed along with the great swinger. I tapped my finger to the beat.
The book, Peter Pan was open on my twin bed. I looked at the quilt that covered my bed. It was as soft as new baby chicks down fur. The patches had flowers and solid prints on it. The white pillows were trimmed with lace and light pink ribbon had my name stitched on them. I laid there, burrowing my face down into the lavender smelling pillows. I had my shoes off and curled my black stocking covered legs closer to me. I stared outside my window. The bare Cucumber tree stood gallantly. The thin branches quivered against the bone chilling wind that howled. I had just finished reading Peter PanIt was a novel that struck a chord within in me. When I was younger, around 7 or so, my sisters and I would act out “Peter Pan.” The oldest of us, Anne, was then 10. She played the role of Mrs. Darling. The second eldest was Jane, she was 9, and almost 10.Jane played Wendy. Then it went Amy, who was 9 and finally me. Amy always played Tiger Lily. I was the baby of the family. I played Tinkerbell. We embellished my part a bit. I yearned to be Wendy. There was one day when we played Peter Pan that I remember distinctly. We were in our rooms with the doors open. We were running away from ‘’Hook’’; we gave that part to our dog. I was last in the line. My wings that mother had made for me had gotten stuck on a branch. I was running and did not notice until I got pulled backwards, flying right into our American cocker spaniel, Joy. That was eight years ago.
I looked out of my window, brushing back the curtains. A light snow was falling onto the streets of Manhattan. I heard the newsboys shouting the headlines.I watched the kids emerge from their homes to go play in the snow that was already sticking to the ground. I moved my book bag from the middle of my room to where my desk was in the far right wall. I took out my math book and started to do the rest of my math problems. I only had three more left. I sat down in my chair and brushed my dress to smooth out the wrinkles. I had on a burgundy dress that tied in a bow at the back. I wore a long black cardigan sweater that was Jane’s from a few years back. It had flowers etched on it with black sewing at the bottom. I was on problem number 28 when I heard a knock on my door. I turned around to see my mother.
“Evelyn, dear, dinner will be along shortly.” Her small face smiling at me. The deep brown eyes sparkling. The dimples in her cheeks were pronounced.
“Alright. How was your day, mother?”
“Fine, I ran some errands and cleaned the parlor for afternoon tea with Mrs. Anderson. She told me that their business has bee suffering. This Depression is getting the best of everyone." She changed the subject to a somewhat better note. "Do you have homework tonight?”
“Yes, but I finished all but three problems. I am working on them now so I won’t have to worry about them later this evening.”
“Good girl. Would you like to come down and help with the rest of dinner?”
“Oh, yes. They should not take me that long.”
Mother flashed me her pearly white teeth. She brushed her dark curly hair from her face. She was the spitting image of a lady who would do anything for her family and friends. Her tall, willowy figure was covered by a black dress and a neat little apron that looked as if it was a picture taken straight from a meadow, almost like the meadow in that new Walt Disney film that had come out a few years ago, under the name “Bambi.”
Mother was a homemaker. She loved to read and discuss things such as politics or news. Mother could make anyone laugh. She was kind and loving. She listened to anyone’s problems, always being polite and courteous. She was a role model in my eyes. Father was a business man. With the state of the economy and the Depression getting worse, Father was working harder than ever. Anne, Jane, Amy and I helped mother and father as much as we could. We were not rich, but well off. In the evenings, we would all gather in the parlor and listen to mother read a novel or listen to the radio. Sometimes we would sing tunes that mother or one of us girls played on the piano. There never was a simpler, happier family in my opinion. My sisters and I were devoted to each other. We were closer than most sisters.
I rubbed my eyes as I closed the math book. I stuffed it into my already-to-many-books-in-it-but-I-need-to-fit-one-more-inside book bag. I pushed in my chair from my desk. I checked how I looked in the mirror. I decided that I needed to brush my hair. I ran the silver handed comb through my dark curly locks. I straightened the black ribbon that held my hair up in the half pony. I pursed my lips and imagined of how I would look with lipstick. Red lipstick. I couldn't. The thought quickly was diminished. I batted my long eye lashes and smiled, slightly revealing my teeth. I pinched my cheeks and saw the color come to life. My face was thin, as all of me was. I twirled around in place in front of the standing mirror. I watched the dress twirl out from under me and get caught on my legs as it slowed.
The smell of chicken and rosemary filled my nostrils and made me feel light-headed as I made my decent from my room. I heard mother talking on the phone with someone. The crackling of the fire reverberated in my ears. The shadow of mothers’ elegant frame was pinned against the cream colored walls.
“Alright. I will save dinner until you are home. See you at six o’clock then, I love you too. Bye.”Her voice was nothing but a whisper. The look on her face was serene and calm.
Father.
“Why will daddy be home at six o’clock? He is usually home by five or at the latest 5:30.”
“The company is having a meeting and they expect that it will be longer than was originally planned.” She explained as she slung a towel over her shoulder and put some linguine into a pot bubbling water. I watched as the pot sizzles and spits. Mother began to peel a carrot. I went over to the sink and picked up a peeler as well.
“Are you alright dear? You seem a little out of sorts.”
“I am fine. Just tired.” The truth was that I was worried that father would get laid back. The bank had already let go their employees. It was only a matter of time.
Momma nodded and I began to cut the carrots into small pieces. We heard muffled voices from outside. The creak of a door and then the voices of Jane and Anne were at their full volume.
“How could he do that to me? Jane wined. Amy followed along shortly, looking grim faced and rubbing her head. She came over to me and put her head on my shoulder. I hugged her and stroked her wheat colored hair.
“They are giving me a headache like no other.” She whispered into my ear as she dragged her weary self up the stairs to go rest.
“He wouldn't know a good thing it hit him on the head!” Anne replied as she took off her gloves and scarf. Her golden brown hair was covered in snow.
“Momma, Jim broke up with me.” Jane whimpered. She struggled to keep her chin from trembling. Her blue eyes were glossy and her nose was running. Whether it was from the cold or the tears that ran down her face, I could not tell.
Mother put down the heart of romaine that she had just dried and untied her apron. I watched as the beautiful bow becomes nothing but two thick strands. She stood a little straighter and showed Jane up stairs. I picked up the head of lettuce and got a cutting board out. Anne found some nice tomatoes and began to cut them into fourths. By the time momma and Jane came back into the kitchen, we had finished the salad. They found me testing the pasta to go with the chicken and Anne setting the table with the cutlery and china.
Jane was quiet and teary eyed. Mother sighed. She looked around, bewildered. Her eyes were full of pain. Not how they usually were.
“Anne and I finished the salad. It is chilling.” I spoke up.
“Oh, thank you, Evelyn. I appreciate it. Why don’t we go sit in the parlor and we could read a bit from ‘A tale of two cities.’ Shall we?” Mother asked.
We followed her and sat around in the comfy parlor. It was decorated simply; a coffee table in the middle, nice curtains, and a pretty rug made out of a Persian pattern, a grand piano in the corner. Two books shelves with three spaces each. They were filled books by Alcott, Dickens, Hawthorne, and Hemingway.
“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us…”
Mother’s soft voice filled the parlor. Amy sat on the sofa, with me between her legs on the floor so that she could braid my hair. Anne was sitting on the left side of mother and Jane on the sofa. The snow fell slowly, as if time had come to a halt. Half an hour had past. As mother began another chapter, we heard the knocking of boots on the stoop. Father came in with the bone chilling wind. Mother stopped reading. She got up, the book slid from her lap onto the floor. Father picked her up and twirled her as he kissed her soft rose petal lips. There were never two people more in love. The way father looked at mother was beautiful. Even after all these years, they were still in love with the same strong feeling that they had when they had met. I could not wait for someone to look at me like that.
“How was everyone’s day?” Father asked.
“Good.” I replied cheerfully.
Jane shifted uncomfortably. She smiled an ambiguous type of smile. Amy replied that her day was okay. That she was glad that it was the weekend. We nodded in unison. The night passed calmly and quietly.
^^^
The first memory that I have of my mother was when I was about five. I was being tucked into bed. She was dressed in a white dressing gown, getting ready to go out to dinner with Father. When she bent down to kiss me, her hair fell over her shoulder, letting the smell of coconut waft down to my nose. She smelt of Chanel number 5 perfume. I breathed in the smell greedily.
“Good-night.” Mother said.
“Sleep tight.” I continued.
“Don’t let the bed bugs bite.” She rhymed.
My eyes fluttered shut right as mother had turned down the night lights. She left the door open just a crack so that I could see the hall light.
That is what I was thinking of when mother had kissed me good night. It was a fond memory that I kept holding onto.
“Mother, do think things will get better anytime soon with the economy?”
“I am not sure dear; the country is up to its ears in debt.” She replied with a sigh. I nodded. People were doing anything possible to get back on top. Some were crawling and holding on for as long as they could.
“Will we be alright?” I asked. I knew that it was a troublesome question but I needed to know.
She rubbed her head, on the side by her temples. She was silent for a moment. I looked at her earnestly.
“Of course my dear. Now, have sweet dreams. I will see you in the morning.”
I burrowed down into the pillows, covered by blankets. I watched as the snow fell down onto the flower box outside my window. The tulips and poppies were drooping over the white box. They were in a sad, dilapidated state. I heard the honk of a car and the splash of water as it was driven through. The murmurs of mother and father were filling my ears. Is it really that bad out there? I wondered. I watched the shadows creep under my white-washed door. Mother was saying something about the stock market. Father sighed. Mother fell quiet. I heard soft cries. I closed my eyes and breathed in and out, falling asleep.
! Seriously, I want to read more. I like your descriptions and the main character. I haven't read a decent historical in a while, and so I am excited to read more. Keep it up, okay?
Gender:
Points: 6280
Reviews: 135