Glory Be

Chapter Twelve

When the week finally ended, Isaiah found himself absolutely exhausted. Learning to balance his Church and Printshop responsibilities was harder than he thought. Every second of his waking day was used for working. Well, except when Sydney would offer to bring him out to visit with Sunny, while she got her lunch. It had almost become a tradition now.

Another newspaper had been published in the past week. While Isaiah didn't directly contribute too much, Sydney showed him how to typeset, and Mr. Kowal let him have a go at using the printing press. Although Isaiah realized his arm strength wasn't quite up to par to use the machine effectively. While he was disappointed, Isaiah was excited to try and become stronger.

So, in the evenings, Isaiah offered to help his brother with his chores when he had time. Since one of his duties included buying and moving supplies into the Church. David was more than surprised, and Isaiah woke up the very next morning with incredibly sore muscles. Subsequently spending the rest of the day hiding his limp. Regardless of all the work and stress, it was worth it.

It was such a stimulating way to live. Never having a moment to worry or rest. While exhausted, Isaiah knew he could ignore it with one of the several tasks on his plate. Pushing his bedtime further and further. How could he not? He loved being an apprentice at the Printshop. Mr. Kowal was laid-back, relaxed, and was kind when Isaiah's quirks spilled out. Sydney was also a great coworker. He was also easy-going and confident, without being arrogant. So, spending more time at the Printshop was absolutely worth it in his mind. Even if that meant staying up to finish his chores, or not finishing them at all.

Isaiah had picked up two newspapers when it was finally released. One to read, and one to save as a keepsake. Isaiah immediately hid himself away in his room when he got home from work. Laying on his bed and flipping through the pages of the newspaper. Stopping on the articles where he could see the finished work of the paragraphs he helped inked. After grinning at his hard work, Isaiah flipped to the front of the newspaper and started from the beginning.

2 Men Hanged: Hundreds Stolen

The bold text was stamped upon the front page. Isaiah grimaced, quickly skipping that story entirely. Following the front page was the Agricultural Address. The articles described any recent developments in technology or techniques used in farming. Isaiah skimmed over it, moving onto the next.

The Government and Politics section followed. One passage described a new senatorial district developing. Another discussed the lasting effects of France's loss in the Franco-Prussian War. Seemingly ending the French hegemony in Europe as a whole. Isaiah thought about war. It was a ridiculous thing yet certainly justified in some cases. It reminded him of home.

There was a poem next to some ads from shops in town. Their bold demanding words, begging for the reader's attention, nearly drowning out the small text off to the right. The piece was titled, "I'm Nobody! Who are you?" by Emily Dickinson. Isaiah softly gripped the paper.

"I'm nobody! Who are you?

Are you nobody, too?

Then there's a pair of us -- don't tell!

They'd banish -- you know!

How dreary to be somebody!

How public like a frog

To tell one's name the livelong day

To an admiring bog!"

Isaiah stared at the poem a moment longer. It was an impassioned piece. He could feel the author yelling at him from beyond, asking him with fiery eyes if he was just like her: A nobody. A tempting way to think. With no deep bonds of friendship. Hiding away inside the walls of the white church. Isaiah could maybe believe it. Being a nobody with someone though, is that being a nobody at all? If someone knows of you, that cannot be.