Maybe Someday

I checked my watch and was only displeased by what I saw. There were still two hours to midnight and the next year. Two hours till I could go home and still look socially acceptable. What a useless custom it is, staying up till 12 on New Year's Eve. It's barely a thing to celebrate. A new year means another birthday and another year higher further into being old.
I would tell you my name, but this story is not about me and my name is of no consequence here. For the purpose of visualization, however, let me tell you at least a little about me. I am 35, have no wife and no children and my hair are already greying. One of those things was a lie, but that's not of any significance.
The activity of the party raged on around me giving no indication of stopping any time soon. I wouldn't even have been here if one of my colleagues hadn't got me a ticket. Apparently it was a great dishonor to refuse an invitation or ticket to the largest New Year's party in town.
The work I had to get back to gnawed at my mind and I could feel the time passing slowly around me. The children at the party were in the far corner of the luxurious hall playing charades on one of their parent's phones. Their laughter and joy at being here irritated me immensely. How could they be enjoying this terrible place?
There were hundreds of tables laid out beautifully with cutlery that probably cost more than my apartment rent. Every single table was occupied and chatter and gossip abounded. My table however, was the only one with only one person sitting at it. My colleague had tried to join me, but I think he got the hint that I didn't particularly want conversation.
Everyone was dressed in fancy clothes- magnificent gowns, perfectly stitched suits and silky ties. All this, however, contrasted with my own appearance and made me stand out in my jeans and star wars t-shirt.
The waiters were scrambling around with large plates of exquisite food and trying to serve all tables. The bar to the far end of the hall was filling up very fast and I decided that I might as well get myself a drink for the lack of anything better to do. So I got off my comfortable chair, pushed it in and began walking towards the bizarrely lit bar.
There was a clear distinction between the rest of the hall and the bar. There was jazzy lighting of blue and green and it looked as if the fourth of July had come for the second time that year. The tables were more rickety and almost everything was made of wood. Every table had a dirty vase with a rose in it and a small platter of peanuts.
The noises of drunkenness lifted into the air and joined the chorus of the musicians who were playing gentle tunes on a podium in the center of the place. There was a sign somewhere close to the entrance that said," 18+ only."
I walked up to the counter and ordered a beer, listening to the soft melody of the singers. It was comforting, yet had a tone of sorrow in its verses. I glanced in the direction of the musicians in order to see who was creating this incredible melody. There was a short man playing the flute, another playing a piano that looked big enough to cause an earthquake if it fell. The last member of the group was a tall, grotesque woman who was playing the violin. Despite her looks, however, she was clearly the most gifted among the trio.
I heard the bartender grunt and turned to see that he had served me my beer in a glass that looked too small to fit three coins in it. I looked up at him disdainfully as I took the glass of the counter and walked off looking to find a nice secluded place to sit.
I meandered through the aisles of drunken men and women until I reached a relatively empty area with the two empty tables next to each other. I sat down on one of them wearily and downed my drink in a single gulp. Then I began concentrating on the peaceful music once more. Finally, I had found something of use to do in this party.
For the first time in the evening, I forgot about work, the coming firings and just enjoyed myself. I even got my glass refilled two more times and finally stopped checking my watch every two minutes.
For a time I sat and did nothing but listen and forget about my worries, but alas, the song came to an end about an hour before midnight. The flute and piano players walked off out of the bar after cleaning away their items. The violin player however, picked up her beautiful violin and walked over to the other empty table next to me.
She beckoned to one of the waiters running around with plates of peanuts and whispered something in his ear. Then she put the violin down on the table and put her head into her arms. I was confused by now. Nobody else was looking this way as they were too busy with their drinks and conversations. She seemed to be crying as the waiter she had spoken to returned.
He gave no heed to her position and kept three large bottles of wine on the wooden table. As soon as the man was gone, she lifted her head. I could see clear traces of tears in her eyes as she began screwing the lid of one of the fancy bottles the waiter had left. She lifted it to her mouth and took a deep gulp and only came up for a breath. Then she dived in again and finished the first of the quite large bottles.
She was now panting, but seemed much less distraught than before. In the span of about two minutes, she had recovered completely. My curiosity of this woman was increasing at an incredible pace as she brought out an A4 sheet of paper and began writing something on it with great care.
After a few minutes of writing, she beckoned to the same waiter again and whispered something to him once more as she handed him the sheet. Another tear trickled from her eye as she got up and embraced the man. He hugged back and then walked away without saying a word. Confusion abounded in my mind as I saw the woman sit back down and noticed that there was still no one else who had seen what had just surpassed.
Once the grotesque violin player had calmed down a little more she unsealed the second bottle. This time she got at it slowly. Taking slow and small sips and allowing her attention to waver. She seemed to stare into space as she continues to take small sips and occasional bites of peanuts.
I checked my watch. There were still thirty minutes to the next year. In another few minutes, she finished the second bottle and put her head down again. For another five minutes I watched her intently. Her head remained down for a few minutes and then she finally lifted it. There were fresh tears trickling down her light skin and her eyes seemed red from rubbing them.
At this point, I could hold back no more. I got up and walked over to the table where she was sitting and staring into space. She didn't notice me standing there until I asked," May I join you, Miss?"
Her face turned swiftly and she glared at me with a face that was sharper than a hundred pointed spikes and I almost began to regret my decision of coming over to her table. She finally responded," Yes, why not."
I let out a quiet breath of relief as I sat down on the chair opposite to her as she went back into her pondering.  Neither of us spoke until she beckoned for the waiter again. She said to the waiter," a glass please, john."
The man looked down at her solemnly before he proceeded to fulfil her request. The glass he got her was much bigger than the one the bartender had given me. It was of ornate copper and looked almost antique.
She picked up the glass and the remaining bottle and said," I'll be right back." This confused me for we had just met and were yet to talk to each other at all, but I nodded all the same. My eyes followed her as she walked to the far corner of the place. She began to unscrew the lid of the last bottle. For some reason, I found myself holding my breath as she began to fill her glass.
Everything else around me seemed to fade as my concentration fixed itself on her unwaveringly. Once she had filled her glass, she put it down on the floor and began searching for something in her gown's pocket. It did not take her long to find what it was that she was looking for. I could see that it was a small bottle with a label of some kind.
I was too far away to read the label, but I guessed that it was a medicine of some kind. What I did see clearly, though, was her opening the sealed bottle slowly and taking a deep breath every step of the way. She seemed to shiver once the small bottle was open.
For a minute, she just stood with the bottle in hand staring at the glass she had kept on the closest table. There was still nobody else who had noticed her. She finally lifted the glass and poured the contents of the bottle into it. My heart raced as I continued to stare her way intently.
She looked down at the glass and I'm pretty sure I saw another tear fall from her eye even at such a distance. Then she downed the contents of the glass in a single gulp. She coughed and her face went deathly pale as my own mind filled with confusion and panic about whatever it was that I had just witnessed.
After she had stopped coughing and spluttering, she began walking back to our table. I mentally prepared myself for the coming conversation I was going to initiate.
As soon as she had returned and settled herself in her chair, I asked," What is your name, Miss?" she stared at the floor as she responded absentmindedly," Edward Schenell." Even more confusion clouded my mind.
Suddenly, she looked up straight and said," Forget I just said that. My actual name is... Alice ... Ethiler." I caught the hesitation in her voice and said," how can a lady's name possibly be Edward, Miss?"
She angrily replied," I told you my name is Alice!" tears had begun falling from her eyes again. I tried to remain calm despite my confusion and her outburst and said," I saw what you did in that corner and I'm really getting very curious. It would be really great if you could explain it to me."
Her face turned red and a mixture of anger and embarrassment shrouded her not so pretty face. She struggled to keep her volume normal as she said," It was a medicine." I looked at her suspiciously as tears continued to fall. "Why were you crying then? And what about the piece of paper you gave the waiter? What was that about?"
She looked at me furiously and said," I barely know you man, why on earth should I tell you my entire life story? How does it matter to you what dealings I had with that man?" I was shocked to see that there was still no one who had noticed our argument. People really do get affected by what they drink, don't they?
I was getting quite angry at how she was refusing to quench my curiosity and said," very well then, miss Edward. I suppose you're right. Perhaps I should leave you to wallow in your own sorrow." I began to get up in a spur of the moment decision.
She looked up at me in dismay and said," Wait." I looked at her bemused and then sat down once more. I looked at her tear wrought face and suddenly felt a tinge of regret about the things I had said.
She was beginning to quieten a little. After another few minutes, she looked up at me with a stony face. She said," Why I'm telling you this I do not know. But I might as well, considering things can't really get any worse than what they are." Another spasm of regret passed through me but I let her continue.
She asked," Would you like a drink? I'm warning you this is going to take a while." I was thrown off by the irrelevance of the question, but I politely refused the remaining drink in the last bottle.
And then, to my immense irritation, a bell rang. Cries of happy New Year abounded even among the drunk as they started getting up to go outside and start the fireworks. How is everything in this world timed so horribly, I thought to myself.
As the crowd moved into the actual hall and down the stairs, however, neither of us moved. We stared at each other, looking equally annoyed at the noise and caring equally less about a new year having started.
The bar slowly emptied without either of us having said a word to each other. Finally the time came when he room was emptied and even the bartender had left. The last person to leave the bar was the waiter who was apparently an acquaintance of the woman who sat in front of me. He reached the door and looked at her. Then he turned and walked away without a word.
Then she finally spoke," Happy new year, random man who managed to persuade me to tell him my life story." Irritation boiled in my mind at how she was refusing to get to the point as I replied," And to you as well, miss Edward Schenell."
Her irritation too, flared at the usage of the name which appeared to have some bad memories associated with it. She said," at least be polite if you want to get any information out of me."
After a minute or so of pointless banter, she finally started," It was about two years ago that it all began. I lived with my parents and still did not have a job, or at least not an apparent one. I am an unpublished writer and you can imagine a parent's reaction to such an ambitious career choice. So, after hours of trying to persuade me to rethink what I enjoyed doing most and yet failing, my father decided that there was only one solution. That he would marry me off to the son of one of his old wealthy colleagues so that I wouldn't have to work."
My eyes widened and I was taken aback by how casually she talked about things which had caused her so much distress. She continued," I was against this plan for obvious reasons. Seriously, I thought the custom of arranged marriage had stopped years ago. My conception of getting married, however, changed considerably in a very short period of time. My father wasted no time in arranging a meeting between me and an acquaintance's son. My mind was full of trepidation of the impending meeting for days; however, it was all unnecessary."
Confusion once more, was the overpowering feeling in my head as she continued her monologue," for the man my father intended for me to marry was the most gorgeous man I had seen in my life. So we met and I thought that I had found the man I needed to be with. The man's name was Edward Schenell and it just so happened that he was a literary agent."
"After another two meetings, arrangements were made for our wedding and my happiness knew no bounds. So we were married and bought an apartment of a good size. The time flew by in bounds and life was good. I was writing a book I had had the idea for a while ago and he was going to work and making money to keep us running. Three months into our marriage, I was pregnant, and once more our happiness knew no bounds. But then my entire life took a downhill turn. For slowly, me and Edward started growing further and further apart."
A frown came over my face as I continued to listen to the story intently," he spent long hours at work and started going out with other friends till late. We started having fights for almost no reason and we just didn't click anymore. But our marriage still resisted and things still went on marginally normally. So the days, weeks, months went by, doing little to restore the joy of our relationship. And then finally the day came when the divorce happened and he moved out."
Tears had started trickling from her eyes again and the amount of my confusion was matched by the anger that was brewing at the back of my mind. She continued," and it just so happened that it was on the same evening that I went into labour. A neighbor took me to the hospital and so it was that I was blessed with a boy. So there was at least some happiness left in my life. I was forced to take up a job as a violin player as you have already seen and the money from that was all that supported our family of two."
She was properly crying now but went on despite the streams flowing from her eyes," But yet, I did not give up my ambition of being a writer. I knew that my idea was a good one and I really felt that my writing was getting really good. For another month I worked as a violin player, leaving my son at a preschool when I was out playing the instrument for the pleasure of some rich scoundrels. But I still managed to squeeze in some time of writing every day. After one month of living with the most horrible schedule in the world, my book was finally done. It was a story of a young orphan told entirely through poems."
Wonder filled my eyes at the thought of the book, but I did not say anything as to let her continue," So all my free time was now occupied with either playing with my son or sending out copies of my manuscript to various agents. Just out of good sentiment, I decided to send it to Edward's company first. For ages, I argued with myself about whether to send it under my actual name or a pseudonym. Finally, I reached the conclusion that sending it under my own name would give it slightly higher chance of getting accepted."
"So the manuscript was sent and all I could do was hold my breath till I got a response. So I waited for approximately two months without sending it out to any other publishers or agents. I must say though, annoyance was beginning to creep up on me at how long it was taking to get a reply. So, my wait continued till one day, my neighbor came and knocked on my door. By the way, this neighbor just so happens to be the waiter I was consorting with earlier. So I let him in only to be informed that Edward had been in touch with him."
Once more, I was taken aback by the twist in the tale as I continued to listen giving no heed to the sounds of fireworks," He said that Edward had called him about something which he had described as top secret. He told me of how my ex-husband had told him that he had stumbled across a very good idea. So I sat there and listened to him talk about how Edward had told him of how I had had the idea to write a story in the form of a poem. Apparently, Edward had informed him that he really loved the book, but did not want to get something by his ex-wife published. The anger in me had been insurmountable and I had got up and stamped my feet hard enough for a vase to fall of its table."
My own anger was growing by the second and my sympathy for this woman was growing by the sentence," I knew that this neighbor of mine also had aspirations in the field of writing so I could guess what the purpose of the call was. Edward had offered to print the book under my neighbour's name on one condition. This man's brother just happened to be a lawyer and not a much acclaimed one at that. To put it in easier words, he was the only lawyer that I would have been able to afford to defend myself in a court case."
Understanding was beginning to overcome some of my confusion as she continued to explain what I had already put together in my brain," Edward's only condition was that this man's brother refuse to defend me in a trial if I decided to pursue the matter so far. This man however, was loyal and had reasonably large sense of righteousness and had refused the tempting offer."
I let out at least a small breath of relief as I continued to listen to her intense story," that however, was nowhere close to enough to spoil Edward's plan. For at the potential client's refusal, Edward had decided to publish my book under his own name."
I let out a canine growl and spluttered in disbelief at how desperate this man had been," in another month, my once husband had found a publisher and had published the book. Today you will find it at any bookstore in the bestseller section with his name under the title instead of mine. I request that once this night is done you go to any bookstore or library and read this book, knowing that I wrote it and not that stinking man Edward."
I spoke for the first time since her story had started," So did you take the matter to court?"
She nodded and responded," My neighbour's brother was my representative but my sly once husband had hired one of the best lawyers in town and we really stood no chance at winning. So, we inevitably lost the doomed case. The two months since then have been the most difficult of my life and not even my son has been able to cheer me up."
"It surprises me that it took me this long to make my decision but I finally reached it." I had a sinking feeling that I knew what was coming," I came here with much more in mind than playing the violin. I hope you remember the sheet of paper I handed the waiter. That was my will, leaving all of my belongings to my son and my neighbour caring for them till he crosses the age of eighteen."
I let out a soft curse as she continued to speak," after a long discussion, my neighbour had accepted that he would adopt my son once I took my own life. I had had enough of my sorry life and was finally ready to get it to end. I gave the will to him so that his lawyer brother could legitimize it and then I was ready for the end."
I muttered," It was poison wasn't it, that you mixed in the drink in the glass?" Her face flooded with guilt as she nodded and said silently," eight hours and I'll be done. I'll have finished this life of pain and suffering." She was sobbing hysterically by now, but I knew that it was justified. My own eyes were getting wetter than I would have liked.
Only one thought was in my mind and there was a clear method for its execution. I got up and beckoned for my companion to follow suit. She was surprised, but obeyed for some reason I'm yet incapable of defining.
I held one of her hands and pulled her out of the bar giving no regard to what she may be thinking. Now that I think about it, she was probably worried that I had turned out to be even more psychotic than Edward.
We covered the distance of the long hall remarkably quickly and it was only when we reached the end that she spoke," Where are you taking me?" the rest of what she was saying was muffled by another set of tears.
We walked down the stairs to the ground floor where the firework show was taking place, but neither of us gave the crackers a second glance. I pulled her behind me to the parking ground and walked her all the way to my car. It was an inexpensive sedan and I had been meaning to replace for quite a while. I scrambled for the keys in my pockets and my desperation far surpassed anything of any time before.
The car beeped as I pressed the open button but I barely noticed it. Never in my life had I sympathized with someone so greatly or had such a strong feeling about anything in my mind. I always hated villains in every book or movie I watched, but never had I found anyone who inspired hatred more than Mr. Edward Schenell.
I pulled open the door of the passenger seat and beckoned for her to take a seat. She stared at me, mortified, but did as I instructed. I hurried over to the driver's side and took my own seat. Usually, I was a careful man. But then, buckling my seat belt could not be lower on my list of priorities. I started the car and never have I ever driven so fast.
Once we were on the normal road, she asked once more," Where are you taking me?" This time, I actually answered," To the hospital."
I had prepared myself for a negative reaction- anger, violence or such. What I received, however, was very different. She laughed in my face. I was so surprised that I even slowed the car a little. She said between obviously fake laughs," There's nothing you can do now. Once ingested, there's no way of getting rid of the poison. I didn't spend a month researching different varieties of poison for naught!"
The little glimmer of hope that I had possessed seemed to die with her words, but I continued driving. I couldn't accept the fact without the consultation of a doctor. Suddenly, a thought struck me. I said to her," How come this wondrous poison of yours hasn't taken affect yet. You look perfectly healthy to me."
She answered," Didn't I tell you that it takes eight hours for it to kill. It also happens to be eight hours with no side-effects." I remained silent. How could someone possibly argue with a statement like that? It was still another fifteen minutes to a hospital which stayed open all twenty four hours a day, so I decided to continue to make small talk with her.
I asked," Why didn't you go back to your family once he left?" I could see her face bow as she struggled to find words to respond. It was another two minutes before I finally got my answer," I called my father right after he left. He made it perfectly clear what he thought of women who were useless enough to get their husbands to leave them. He didn't even come to meet the baby."
I could sense that she was crying again so I decided to let the rest of the journey to go by without conversation. So for ten minutes we sat in complete silence until we finally saw the depressing hospital building rise in front of us. She asked as I was parking the car," Are you sure you want to do this?" My only response was a solemn nod.
I hurried her into the hospital much as I had taken her to the car earlier. I swiftly walked her to one of the several empty counters where the man immediately began to wish us a happy new year. I interrupted his well-rehearsed greeting," She's been poisoned for God's sake!"
He immediately pulled out one of the beds on wheels and asked her to lie down on it. He began wheeling her to some kind of operation room as he snapped his fingers at another man so that he could give me the forms that needed to be filled. This second man walked over to me and handed me three double sided pages to be filled with information and gave me a cheap pen to oblige.
I began filling in details as quickly as I could as if it was a race and loosing meant the end of the world. My handwriting was coming out pretty badly and only just legible but I didn't care enough to change it.
After I had managed to fill up the three lengthy forms in a span of five minutes, the man said," This surgery will cost you 90$, sir." I didn't question the largeness of the sum, but asked what I felt was a much more significant question," What if they can't save her?"
"You'll still have to pay for them carrying out the surgery, sir. I'm sorry but it's just the way it is.", he answered. I glared at him disgustedly but got out my wallet and gave him the required amount. He said," You can come back in the morning, sir. The surgery will take a while and its best that you don't stay here to add to the tension of the doctors."
Part of me wanted to snap at him for suggesting that I go home, but a thought struck me. I nodded at him and said," I'll be back at seven next morning." He nodded back at me and then turned back to the files he had been organizing earlier.
I got back to my car and immediately picked up my phone. I scrolled through my long list of contacts and finally reached the name I was looking for- Carl. He was an old friend of mine who ran a book store on the way to my house. I had to read her novel before I met her again.
I pressed call and within the next two minutes, I had made arrangements to pick up her novel on my way back home. Within a duration of ten minutes, I had picked up the novel and was back in my car. In another fifteen minutes, I was home on my comfortable sofa unpacking the novel from its brown paper wrapping.
The first thing I saw once I opened the package, was the name Edward Schenell written in big block letters. Once more, the anger overcame my senses and I had to wait for my brain to clear a little before I could actually start reading.
For the next three hours, I sat reading what very possibly is my favourite book at the moment. Tears fell and my heart was shattered repeatedly as I flew through the pages of the long poem. As soon as I was done reading it, I flipped right back to page one and read the whole thin gall over again. By the time it was done, it was six and I had shed more tears than I ever had before in my life. I changed and made for the car again. The journey to the hospital seemed much longer now, in daylight.
Once I reached, I got out of
the car with my trepidation increasing with every step. I walked to the same counter I had gone to the previous night and saw the same man there again. My heart was thudding louder than ever as the man looked at me. Then he smiled. "We saved her.", he said. My heart leaped and my happiness knew no bounds as he continued," We had to filter her blood six times but we managed to save her."
"Where is she now?", I asked. The man responded," She left right after the surgery was finished, sir." My heart sank and drowned in the maze of my emotions as the man continued," She did, however, leave you a note." My heart leaped as he handed me a sheet of paper. I unfolded it slowly and took a long time to read through the words.

To the man who so kindly saved my life,
So you managed it after all. I'm sorry I couldn't wait for your return, but I've decided not to abandon my life after all. So I have a six month old to put to sleep. I must thank you for what you did. So here it is- I'm sincerely in your debt forever. Maybe someday we'll meet again. But then again, maybe someday I'll actually publish a book.
Agatha Schenell

I smiled as I finished reading it. It was at the same time that the tears fell.
Maybe someday indeed.