Anne with an E The Next Chapter

Shattered Glass

Jerry watched at the carriage rounded the corner, drifting away slowly from the house he'd worked so hard to prepare for today's meeting. He felt the warm spring breeze on his face but felt a chill through his body as winter had not entirely left Avonlea. He walked back into the house, shutting the door behind him calmly. From the small entrance, he could see the sun shining through the kitchen window, the glint of it hitting the glass vase his sister had filled with flowers. It flashed in his eyes, seemingly mocking and taunting him.

You'll never be shiny enough for them he heard it say. He walked in and sat at the table, surveying the space and wondering what had gone wrong. This house was more than he'd ever dreamed of in his whole life. He could quite literally fit 5 of the large French families in that house and here the Barry's were looking at it like it was shack. Mr. Barry had seemed open enough when visiting the house, and Diana and Minnie Mae appeared to be smitten with everything he was saying. Jerry felt as though he was making headway until Mrs. Barry appruptly came into the parlour and told him to put his "peasant plans" aside. She's rudely interrupted Mr. Barry and insisted that they needed to get home for lunch that their housekeeper Rose had prepared. She said that it would be rude to keep her waiting and that she'd had quite enough of this foolishness.

She had all but pushed Diana out the door when she'd resisted leaving and as she prepared to go, she'd turned to him and said that James Andrews was on his way and that they had to do him the honor of a discussion. Mr. Barry had tentatively apologized for "the inconvenience" but did nothing to stop his wife who seemed to be running her entire family.

Jerry remembered the way she'd looked at him... with what appeared to be disgust. He'd watched Mrs. Barry push Diana, a grown woman of 19, into the carriage and saw her face looking back at him with sorrow through the little window.

He looked at the pretty table. He saw the glinting glass vase and felt an anger and a hurt he'd never felt before shoot right through him. His eyes burned with what felt like tears and before he knew it, the glass vase was flying across the room. It smashed into the wall with loud clatter, sending a million tiny shards of glass through the air with the water and gentle flowers being propelled along with them. The hurt burned deeper as he pictured his 10 year old sister placing them, just so, in the vase and showing them proudly to her brother  saying "elle va les adorers la maman de Diana!!" .  Though her mother hadn't adored them... she'd actually tutted at the little vase when she noticed a small insect crawling on the tulip leaf. Jerry put his head down on the small table, shielding his eyes from the mess of his kitchen and the mess of his life. He'd lost and Diana was gone. James Andrews, this hideous man with more clout and power than him,  was coming to see his girl and he couldn't stop it. He knew that the hope he'd had of convincing the Barry's letting him marry Diana, let alone court her, was hopeless. He'd tried to be strong and confident for Diana. He'd put his best foot forward and used the resources he knew might resonate with them, but still they saw him as no more than a pauper. He felt himself welling up with despair and sadness because he knew there was no one in all of Avonlea who could convince the Barry's otherwise. He'd wished then that he and Diana had run away all those months ago and been married secretly, this way no one could tear them apart, but they'd tried to do things the right way and now it was backfiring.

Instead of crying about it, Jerry sat back abruptly in his chair and rubbed his face and head as he did so often when he was overwhelmed. He stood up with force, sending the little wooden chair screeching behind.. all the gentleness he'd applied that morning to making the house look right was gone. As Jerry leaned forward, he placed both his fist on the table, his tall frame leaning forward letting the entire weight of his body press on his knuckles. He lifted his hands and punched the table with all his might... bruising his knuckles. The pain somehow brought him satisfaction and he did it again. He paced the floor wondering what he could do next and stopped to survey the mess of glass and flowers on the ground. He didn't care any more... he left it there and walked over to the little corner armoire he'd cleaned that morning. Inside he'd found a 25 year old bottle of whiskey and had left it in it's place, thinking it might come to good use for a celebration some day soon. As he reached in, the heavy glass bottle felt good in his hands and he wondered what it smelled and tasted like.