Only Dreams And Oceans Reside here

Broken Clocks

The train station was a dank and dreary place despite the platforms being outside in the open air. It always had a repugnant and spoiled stench that stretched out to affect people's already hurried and upset attitude that came with having to take a dirty and unpredictable transport system at 7 AM which was fondly known in my household by my mother as “The asscrack of dawn”. Another possible scapegoat for the infection of volatile emotions was the current temperature, 83 degrees to be more specific. Looking at those 2 dreadful numbers on my phone diminished any kind of hope for human kindness for a seat when i get onto the crowded train. I don’t mind standing on the train, for me it means cutting the chance of catching some kind of sickness but when you’ve just finished a 12 hour shift spent constantly on your feet the urge to sit down begins to eat at you no matter the location.

I spend a pretty good amount of my time at my job, not all of it by my own fruition. I work as a waitress at a neon bathed 24 hour diner in the downtown tourist area of Chicago. I make enough to sustain myself and pay for my apartment every month thanks to tips but recently well, more like 6 months ago I’ve been looking for better job opportunities. I don’t hate the diner job but it’s just serving people copious amounts of cheap food and coming home to take a forty five minute shower using over 38 percent of my wash products to get the smell of grime and grease out of my extremely curly hair is getting extremely repetitive. I stepped off the platform and onto the silver city train that smelled the same as the train station but more enclosed. Clutching my purse i hurried through the crowd of standing and sitting figures that seemed to be clumped and woven together because of sudden hurried speed i was moving. My prayers were answered when i eyed a lone seat by the window,and I quickly sat down relishing the small victory over the ravenous crowd and laid my head on the surprisingly cold window and stared out as the trains announced its departure. For once in several days I felt i had time to relax my body for a second.

The scenery from my window might have been something of a treat or a highlight of scenery but for someone like me who’s lived in Chicago for over 3 years the sights have become common landmarks to how close i am from home and more importantly my bed and sunlight blocking curtains. The first stop was the multiple museums by the coast of the Great Lakes, an indication that my work life was temporarily on hold. The second was the Dusable Bridge that was a sign it was time for me to get ready to get up. Finally there was the Sears Tower which was my personal notification to head to the nearest exit so i can be the first one out the train in 30 minutes.  Getting up from my temporary rest was difficult as i had gotten accustomed to my seat but i still managed to awkwardly step my way to the nearest door and hold onto the cold silver rail and after what seemed like a roller coaster line worth’s of time the train stopped and the doors slid open to my stop. With an almost childlike glee i stepped out and speed walked out the station and onto my block.

The neighborhood was one of the few around the parts to not be gentrified. Fire hydrants were opened on the daily and block parties were always frequent during hot summer months. A lot like most neighborhoods on the poorer side of cities the people on the outside saw danger while those who actually resided here saw the best thing about the neighborhood, Community.  I knew everyone on the streets and in my apartment and they knew me. Here i was rarely called by my given name of Denise marie Lowell but i was known as “ sunshine  “ to everyone. I walked past the elders sitting on their porches and waved and made friendly conversation while simultaneously giving high fives to the army of kids walking to school. This was the routine for finishing up my night shift and I wouldn't have it any other way. 5 minutes later  i found myself  entering my old apartment complex and checking the mailbox that held only dust. I passed the rustic looking elevator and made my way up the long L shaped staircase to my apartment on the 6th floor. I never really liked elevators. It’s much less fear than it is the anxiety of being in one that truly shakes me. It could fall, it could get stuck, You could be trapped in there with several sinners and the devil himself. The possibilities of what could happen in that tiny steel box are endless and horrifying.  Besides the stairs are a great workout for my legs.

Reaching the 6th floor I was met with a blast of heat. I had forgotten to turn the air on before I left. After taking and savoring the few minutes it takes to kick off my shoes i had made my way to the AC and flipped the switch that filled the apartment with the refreshing cold air. Walking to my pink tiled bathroom i turned on the walk in shower and took my time washing myself. I finished the heavenly process of washing away the night's hard work and changed into a black t shirt with no bra and pink hello kitty pajamas.  I nearly ran into my bedroom and flew into the queen sized bed and under the blankets. Sleep was about to take me when a knock at the front door shook me from my slow teleportation to the land of sleep. In an almost rage-filled stupor I put an old baby blue T shirt on and opened the door.

Standing there was my neighbor's Six year old kid Angie.  She looked up at me with an enthusiasm that only a young kid would have. Her sun dress was a saccharine color palette of sun yellows and checkered blue and whites.  The dress looked great with her dark skin tone. I would know seeing as how that dress used to belong to me when I was six. "Hi Denise, my momma told me to give you this, it ended up in our mailbox " looking down into her hands I saw a envelope with a wax stamp of a cat  sealing it closed .  Not a common occurrence in the age of email.  I gave a quick thank you and grabbed it lightly from her hands. In return I gave her a 5 dollar bill to use on the corner store's candy and closed the door.

I nearly tore the envelope open and my eyes read through the letter at a lightning pace. It read

" To denise Lowell 

I am writing you in a sorry position to announce that your distant uncle Randolph has passed away from old age.  Seeing as how you are the sole benefactor in his will I am also writing this letter to inform you that your are now in possession of Maxim's seaside estate located in canticle bay Maine, his vast fortune, and his pet cat named desire

Please call this number as soon as possible to discuss what you would like to do with these assets

Best wishes, his lawyer Deacon Lestrade"

Part of me wanted to scream in surprise and part of me wanted to question the whole thing.  This was confusing.  I had only met Uncle Randolph once when I was 15 at a family reunion.  So why me? I suppose the only way to find out is to call the number.

An/ that was the first part of the story. Please give feedback or comments in the comments section.  Part 2 will be up hopefully by friday.

Thanks for reading.