My Shattered Soul

Chapter 2

Central Harlem, NYC; May 11th, 2006, Midmorning

It was Alexs sixth birthday. She was sitting, curled up on the dingy rolled arm sofa by the window. The TV was turned on to a blank station, the static it caused breaking up the otherwise painfully silent environment around her.

There was a knock at the door.

She stood up, walked over, and reached up to unlock the door.

"A...ab...buela." she squeaked at the sight of the petite dark-haired woman in front of her.

Elena Moralez was a strong Boriqua with a gentle heart. She was born on her island and lived on her island for most of her youth before being moved to New York City with her divorced father when she was a teenager.

"Hola Alejandra, why did you open the door?" She asked, her cheery smile collapsing. "Where are your parents?"

"I don't know," the little girl said, nonchalant, already used to spending long periods of time alone in the apartment.

"Oh." gasped, shocked. "Well...do you know when they'll be home?" she asked.

"Sometime next week," was the reply.

"Sweetheart...how long ago did they leave?" she asked, growing more concerned.

"A few days ago. They said...there was...they...said...they had business." the little girl said, struggling to recall why they'd said they were leaving this time.

"Oh~" Abuela exclaimed, seeming to come to some sort of realization. "Of course they did," she said, bitterly. "Well, that means I can take you out to do something special then. What do you think about taking a trip to Manhattan with your Abuela and me?"

"That sounds like it could be fun," she said.

"Great! Let me make us some tea and then we can head down to the car to meet up with Jaddi and his nurse," she said, lifting her granddaughter into her arms and carrying her to the kitchen.

She set the child down on the counter, grabbed a saucepan from the cabinet above the sink, and filled it with water. "Is there any particular type of tea you like?" she asked, setting the pot on the stove to boil.

"I don't think so," Alex said.

"Here, I brought something for you." the woman smiled, turning to open her shiny orange shoulder bag. She pulled out two boxes, setting the smaller one beside the stove and returning her attention to the birthday girl.

When Abuela turned around she had a small package, wrapped in lilac paper, in her hands, about the size of a child's shoebox. "Here you go, Dear."

Alex took a breath; reaching out her hands to accept the smoothly wrapped box. Bundled up in shiny tissue paper was an elegant black box with a bright silver key sticking out from the side. She turned the key, triggering the sleek black lid to slowly open and a beautiful porcelain dancer in a black and red gown stood to attention and began to dance.

The melody was sweet and lively; Alex could easily imagine a golden ballroom filled with people performing a lively waltz in time with the soft metallic clicks. As she listened to it her heart ached, a gentle warmth blossoming in her chest.

She carefully examined the gown: it had wide flaring sleeves and a cinched waist; patterns unlike any she had seen before: bold squares of red, with thin strips lined with intricate flowers and geometric patterns. She could imagine the hours of time that would have had to be put into such a dynamic piece of art. Thank you," she breathed, running her hand along the velvet lining. "it's lovely," she added.