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A·nom·a·ly

Something Peculiar

By Samia AfraPublished 3 years ago Updated 3 years ago 10 min read
2
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels

Charles rouses at 3 am to use the bathroom and discovers white feathers on his bathroom floor. “Bizarre, I must be dreaming.” Bewildered, he walks over them, does his business, and then returns to bed.

At 7 am, he switches on the news.

“This morning, the people of San Francisco woke to find the City strewn with feathers. It remains unclear if this was a freak accident or a meteorological anomaly. More to follow. – James Gardeenie, KPAC News.”

He stretches his achy legs; he rises, determined not to lean on his bad ankle, only to spot feathers on the rug. He surveys the bathroom and peeks into the darkness – now he’s mystified to see feathers there too.

“Guess it wasn’t a dream.”

He crosses the rug and gazes outside his penthouse window, 52 floors above, to see an ocean of feathers piled high on the streets. People step over them, and children pick up piles and blow feathers everywhere. They make the roads look soft and downy. He’s unclear if he’s delusional, but now – he’s elated, watching people looking happy and laughing aloud. He’s astounded at a smile creeping up on his face, unrecognizable even to his staff.

Photo by Evie S. on Unsplash

“Colton? Bring me coffee and the morning newspapers. Colton?” There’s only an echo.

He locates his monogrammed slippers and shuffles to the kitchen. After he turns on the light, he pulls open the drapes. “Funny, Bethany must be late. Bethany? Where are my cuff links? I need my navy jacket, the wool one, the market is up today,” Silence is his friend. “She must be running late; I will talk to her about her punctuality,” he grouches.

Charles’s driver drops him in front of his building at 555 California Street. It contains the financial powerhouse company he started thirty years ago: mergers, acquisitions, worldwide renowned real estate, stocks, bonds, funds, securities, brokerage accounts. His building, before purchase, once housed the headquarters of a nationwide bank that eventually relocated. He passes the Banker’s Heart, a sculpture made of black Swedish granite created by artist Masayuki Agare in 1969. He always smirks when he describes the sculpture’s history – especially to new employees,

“It’s called a Banker’s Heart ‘cause those of us in finance don’t make money by playing nice,” he snickers.

Charles recollects his first year as a junior broker in finance. He’d pass the Bull of Wall Street sculpture on Broadway Street north of Bowling Green Park in NYC. Artist Arturo Di Modica created it as an homage to the 1987 Crash of Wall Street. Charles – like all the world’s investors – relishes when the market turns profits.

Suppose the prices on stocks (and other assets) rise, then the value of the asset increases depending on the market that day. This occurrence is known as a Bull Market. A Bear Market occurs when there are significant losses of profit, sometimes as much as twenty percent. This occurrence happens when the prices of stocks (and other assets) decrease and, subsequently, their value decreases. Investing during a Bear Market poses a significant risk to all investors. The company he worked with made money during Bull Markets. Every morning he looked at how many points his company’s fund rose on the S&P500. He was a racehorse, and they were grooming him to be a champion.

***

“Daddy and I traveled to India, and we stayed in Bangalore. We took the train to an orphanage, and upon entering a small hut, I saw the most beautiful girl. Surely, I saw many boys and girls that day, but there was something special about her. Her eyes were violet; it was the most unusual thing. I asked about her backstory, but Kulpa, the coordinator, knew only that the little girl was from Zanzibar – off the coast of Tanzania – nothing more. So, I told George that we must adopt her. He handled all the paperwork for the adoption. She left with us, and Kulpa handed me this picture of her. We named her Marigold – she was the little flower we plucked from the orphanage.”

“We relocated to Connecticut, and she was the sweetest girl, I tell you. I outfitted her in beautiful dresses and placed ribbons in her hair. Her eyes glistened when we spoke, and I saw specks of color swimming around in them. Hers were like a snow globe – always mesmerizing me. She wanted me to tell her about the day I found her at the orphanage again and again. I told her she was from Zanzibar; she would always be ours and be loved. She asked me why she didn’t have sisters or brothers, and I told her because Mommy couldn’t have babies in her belly. She was confused – “in here” touching my belly. “Yes, in here,” her eyes shimmered when I smiled back at her.”

Photo by Michael C on Unsplash

“The next morning I went to wake her, but I couldn’t find her. All her belongings had vanished. It was most bizarre – the weatherman announced it was raining petals. I went outside our house, and different-colored flower petals laid everywhere: on the sidewalks, in the streets, on the heads of people, on their shoulders. Everyone was so happy. All I could think of was Marigold’s violet eyes, and the petals reminded me of specks of colors that floated inside them. We tried to find her, but the police never located her. The agency said that they had no record of us adopting a child, ever. I was despondent, but days later, I learned I was pregnant – pregnant with you, Charlie!” Charles remembered the day his mother told him about it all.

Photo by Jill Burrow from Pexels

Charles sits at his desk decorated with all the trappings of prominence: a gold pen, a few paperweights, a lamp with a green shade, a collection of first edition Classics, a small bronzed statue of a bull from his summer in Barcelona, an autographed Hemingway photo from Madrid. Those were the pleasurable life experiences he had before his life became demanding before he started his finance company worth 3.2B dollars. Reconciling it all, those times in his past were when his life was colorful. Now, his life is altogether different – today, he’s Mr. Moneybag$.

***

Photo by NOAA on Unsplash

Looking outside, Charles flashbacked to fifty years ago when the weather last went awry.

After football practice, Charlie missed the bus because he twisted his ankle – he fumbled the ball and landed wrong. He limped downtown with his heavy backpack to grab food at a nearby deli. Sitting by the doorway, a homeless man saw him stumble inside and asked him for a sandwich.

“Yeah, I’ll buy you one, man.” Charlie exited the deli and gave him a sandwich, but the man kept probing.

“I’m Jay, whaaaa, whaaaa happened to you?” the homeless man inquired.

“I was injured at practice today.” While explaining, Charlie slid on the gravel while crossing the street, landing on his side. Jay helped Charlie; he placed his arms under Charlie’s shoulders and pulled him upwards. Just then, a car ran the light and slammed into the intersection.

Jay shoved Charlie out of the street to shield him from the oncoming car. Charlie saw the vehicle hit Jay, and while witnessing the collision, he screamed. Jay’s eyes watered from the impact, and he tumbled over the hood, onto the roof, and landed behind the car. The driver stopped at once. He opened his door to help, but Jay wasn’t there. He vanished. Both the driver and Charlie saw Jay before their eyes. Charlie was in shock, and they couldn’t find Jay – anywhere. The driver checked his windshield and bumper, but there was nothing to see, so he drove off – confused. Charlie sat on the curb and cried, in shock over what he experienced.

Photo by Krystal Ng on Unsplash

That night he saw lightning and heard thunder and rain. Charlie cried in his bed, grateful to be alive. He awoke to the weatherman describing the most unusual thing – there were thousands of crystals outside. They were everywhere, glistening like diamonds covering the entire City.

Photo by Mirushe Xhaferi on Unsplash

***

“Sweetheart, would you like some tea?” Mara inquires.

“Yes, Dear,” Charles replies.

“I’ll be at the Peninsula Humane Society today, Charles, and then at the Food Bank. I can’t make it to the opera tomorrow because I made a promise to Planned Parenthood. I’m volunteering for their Campaign Awareness booth at the street fair.”

“I can’t understand why you’re canceling on me, on Puccini’s La Bohème, for the booth at the street fair! Can another person do it?”

“No, Charles. It’s my job; it’s important to me.”

“Yes, but I’m important to you. Why do you spend your time on these silly nonprofits?”

“Charles, behave! My work matters. I don’t need to explain.”

“But you can’t save the world, Mara.”

“Every person makes a difference, Charles.”

“I make money, Mara, and you spend it on these charities.”

“Charles, every person makes their mark on this world. It’s up to you to figure out how to make yours.”

Mara left him to go to the powder room. Behind closed doors, she disrobed and stretched out her wings. Her white feathers had grown ratty from being inside her blouse for so long. She’d turn on the steam and look at her beautiful wingspan measuring thirteen feet. She glanced in the mirror, catching her reflection, proud of her silhouette, private about her secret.

Charles leaves for work; Mara enters the kitchen. “Colton, thank you for twenty-five years of service. Here is your last check; we’ve appreciated you,” she smiles then hugs Colton. “There’s thirty thousand in there for a well-earned vacation.”

Charles comes home later to find Mara gone. He dresses for the opera. Bethany made him dinner. Today he haggled over an acquisition making his company’s net worth 59B dollars. Somedays, he’s a shark; other days, he’s a bull ready to ram his horns into a weak company – gore them and hemorrhage money from their coffers.

Photo by Alec Favale on Unsplash

Mara returns home. She tells Bethany that today will be her last day and that they have enjoyed her services for more than twenty years. She hands her a check totaling $30,000.

Charles returns from the opera to find Mara reading in bed. He changes then slides into bed. They embrace. “Mara, thank you for this beautiful day and for being so wonderful to me.”

“You're welcome, Charles. You’ve always been wonderful.” They kiss and soon fall asleep.

***

Charles wakes at 3 am, and heads towards the bathroom. He looks for Mara, confused as to why she’s not on her side of the bed.

He falls asleep and rises at 7:30 am. The feathers confuse him. “Bethany? You’ll need to do a better job. This mess is inexcusable.”

No answer.

He steps over the feathers. While gazing outside and he sees them everywhere. On the news, he hears about the strange weather. He looks for Mara, but he can’t locate her. His framed photo of her is gone, as is every picture of her. Charles can only find his images and belongings around the penthouse. He asks his doorman about Mara.

“Mara? We’ve never had a Mara living here in the twenty-five years I’ve worked, sir,” Benjamin says.

“William? Where is Mara? I can’t find her.” He asks his driver.

“Mara? I don’t know any Mara, sir.”

Photo by Artem Podrez on Pexels

Charles arrives at his office, and he decides that today with all the strange coincidences – real or imaginary – he will sell his company. It sells it for 2T dollars after being on the market for seven hours. He returns to his penthouse alone and opens his checkbook.

“San Francisco-Marin Food Bank, One hundred thousand dollars.”

“Peninsula Humane Foundation, One hundred thousand dollars.”

“Community School of Music and Arts, One hundred thousand dollars.”

In the “for” section in the left-hand corner of the check, he writes, “Mara.”

Short Story
2

About the Creator

Samia Afra

I'm new to this, so go easy on me.

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