The Empty Room
The dark of the evening envelops the dimly lit room, which casts a melancholic spell around its The darkening dusk streams into the empty room, a room empty of the fullness of life, and of a happiness of deep friendship. It is a chamber seeped in lonliness and in the decay of the ending of years. The room is one that had been rented from strangers who offered the hand of comfort in their home but not of emotional security. It is a sittingroom within a dwelling that at one time was required for a maid but now let for its needed financial gain. The room is quite large in space and nearby, hidden by a paneled door and printed curtains, are the needed facilities of toliet and kitchen. Within the confines are the neccessary furnishings of lodging rented for those in need of shelter. A bay window, overlooking a pleasant garden, offers the light of the day and a view to a comfortable middle-class neighborhood. . An oaken desk backed by niches, serves as a stage for both the past and the present of the occupant. Along the back are framed photos, some grained and faded, which relate the history of the occupant. Tasteful ornaments and trinkets are also set in niche openings tell of visits, travel and pleasant happening in the better years, now displayed for remembrance. A small shaded lamp at the side of the table spreads its meager rays of light which softens the threatening shadows of the coming evening hours. Birdsongs gave way to the chirping of the crickets in the garden and the flutter of tiny insects around the light. Yet, the spell of lonliness is dispersed throughout the room, casting a mood of emotional nostalgia. It casts its spell of isolation in the deep recesses of the mind, a dungeon filled with a prisoner in the thought of the passing years. Therefore within the mind of its occupant is lonliness. An elder woman is there in the chamber as she sits comfortably in a leather-backed chair. Her grey eyes set in a proud, yet aged face, stares in the gloom of the evening as her thoughts reverberates to the past. Memories pass through the depth of her mind, which stabs into the very soul of her being; Memories told of the events that changed the course of her life. The soft light of the lamp illuminates the elder woman; her once beautiful features are now chiselled in the wrinkles and fleshiness of aged years. Her once brown hair had turned to shining white, which is well brushed, pinned and circled with an ornamental diadem. Her slim body is covered with clothing of the taste of her choice, simple yet proper in dress. The adorning jewelery is equally simple. A tiny locket on a slim gold chain around the whiteness of her neck and a small cameo brooch on her long-sleeved dress compliment her appearance. A delicate teacup is daintily held in her slim right hand; the left supports the partnered saucer. Both limbs are dotted with brown spots and wrinkled skin that spell out the passing years. The slim finger of her left hand has the mark of a circling band that told of bonds of a past unity, now just a memory in her lonliness. The passing of years held the memory of that period of time when there were screams of revolt and terror in the air. As the sands of time trickled in the glass, each falling grain had relived that era in the mind to the woman who was a witness. Blood had flowed as angry men stabbed into flesh and hacked at limbs with the cry of the new ideological stigma. There in that land of chaos and revolt death was sudden. The smell of fire still smouldered and its stink trapped in the breath; the cries of the trapped victims of the holocaust were never stilled and could be heard in remembrance. It was in a land where the cry of 'death to the foreign devils' was called throughout by the angry voices of the poplace. Many of the sufferers were the foreign workers who had come to heal and develop; officials of Western Lands were also humiliated though they had come in treaty. The loyal staff of the consulates and their families were also cursed and damned by the revolutionaries. All, in time, were forced to take refuge in the legations from the growing peril. Plans for their escape were made and executed. The survivors, some with families, sought shelter in their lands of haven, still suffering unhealed wounds of scarred memory. Many accepted their losses and returned to a semblance of normal life. Yet, there were a few that were enclosed in the memory of that fearful period and preferred their lonliness without the comfort of family and friends. The woman sips her tea with the dignity of social manners of a one-time graceful life. As she tastes the flavored liquid, she continues to look into the closing dark of the evening; her thoughts continue to clear the cobwebs of the past. She reopens the pack of misery and drums her mind in flagelate torture of the years past recalling the years of tradegy. The evidence of that period is in the framed faded photos, lined on the shelf of the desk, which rivets her attention. She looks to a framed faded photo of uniformed man, handsome and upright, and a young girl dressed in the fashion of the early years. "Bertie," she utters in her mind and repeated twice again. Her thoughts revolve around the happy years she had lived comfortably in married bliss. "Only there were children!" But, she knew that the wounds of his past military service in conflict rendered them childless. Still, they were contented in their ways. Her thoughts revolve to the thought of the consul posting of her husband to that country. It was after that war which had embroiled the entire world that saw the emergence of the states from imperial rule. Colonel Bertram ...., by his military experience, was sent to train the police force. Other consul staff members later joined him who came to forge ties between two countries. Others came and by treaty helped develop modern methods in industry, communications, and agriculture for the new emerging state. Well-meaning missionaries offered their assistance in the maintaining of health and educational instutions. Business entrepeneurs came and within time understood the possibilities of investment. Oil was discovered beneath the soil and the Texan twang was heard. At first, the posting was pleasant and Colonel Bertram.... was able to have his wife by his side. He saw the land becoming properous and that its people were seemingly content. For three years or more there existed the intertwining of two cultures in social, official and cultural events. Friendships amoung the many foreigner workers and their famillies as well as with those of local populace were marked in grace and in social norms. Fond memories of pleasant times still linger in the webs of memory. The dimming thoughts told of the times where foreigners to the land joined the local people in native dances, the formal official events both of the country and Western Lands, evening strolls in the cool of night where lovers met, and the pleasant moments enjoyed with friends and families. It was a pleasant interlude in the early years, but in time it covered a growing discontentment amoungst the majority of the country's citizens. The leaders had become corrupt with power and anger stirred in the breasts of the populace. The officers of the state paraded about in bemedalled Western dress and their spouses strutted about in the finery of fashion and jewels. They filled their pockets with monies destined for the development of the country and their family members were given lucrative governmental positions. The leaders commanded troops and silenced the protests of the opposition with the power of the gun. At first the streets of the country's capital was filled with angry students and workers shouting for reform. When the bullying tactics of the corrupt police turned to bloody confrontations, the protesters left the streets and formed armed pockets of resistance to the government. A leader emerged and united them in their struggle. He spouted age-old communistic slogans, which bubbled the cauldron of revolt. The poplace took up the call and within time their victory over corrupt leaders was near at hand. Their coming liberation, unknown to them, would be replaced by an even greater tyranny. Their rallying cry of hate turned to a scapegoat, the foreigner from the Western lands. "Why, why?" she voices an inward scream as her eyes stares in the dusk, "We came with friendship and understanding. For what reason were we defiled and hated, why, why?" But no answer is forthcoming, as she could not understand the reasoning for the need of a scapegoat to suffer the blame of others. The consulate staff and their families felt their solid ground turn to quicksand and plans of flight were in order. Together with other dependants of the consulate, the woman was forced in orderly evacuation under the protection of their security force and driven by loyal drivers of the embassy. Luggage was limited to one small suitcase and a side carrier where her needed clothes were packed. Her clothing secreted a bag of jewelled ornaments, a roll of western currency and a few mementos of the past. A few of the consulate officials remained behind in attention to their duty, but they were not offered protection by international treaties by the unruly mob. Colonel Bertram.... was counted amoungst them. Despite their plight, they were in the knowledge that there was a chance for safety for their families and comrades. Rocks and mud were thrown at the small convoy and there was a moment she felt the stink of cow dung on her once clean clothing. Only at rare times were they were able to stop and refresh themselves, always under the protection of gun. The native people at these rest stops were not hostile as they seemingly pretended their friendship in the offer of food and drink. Only when a driver felt a knife in his ribs did caution prevail. Heavy military presence of a Western government at the port saw them safely abroad a naval vessel. But, her Bertie was lost to her. Rumours drifted from a scene of conflict told of the storming of the embassy by students armed with rhetoric and a few weapons. Gruesome details told of how the bodies of the remaining consulate workers were dragged through the streets, spat on by mob and later strung by their legs to tree branches. Survivors were spared the news of how the populace tore off the clothes of the strung consul staff, and with sharp machetes hacked off pieces of flesh. The widow lifts a grained photo from its display and stares at four middle-aged women attired in bathing costumes. She remembers the names of her three friends that encircled her - Kathy, Leslie and Ann. A slim smile emerges on her thin lips as she thinks of them and of their past friendship. Tears flow from her grey eyes as the thought of the report from a consul at a neighboring state, which told of their violation and death by a frenzy mob as they were dragged naked and bleeding from the hospital were they had nursed and healed. Photos of families, of familiar faces are searched out with her eyes. Some are known features, which relate stories of tragedies of death, crippling wounds during that period in time, but the majority of the faded mementos told of survivors scattered in havens in faraway lands. All had given service to that country that only repaid them with the branded hand of revolution. Their crime was simply the white of their skins, which marked them as innocent victims to a warped ideology. True, she admits to herself, that those of a different skin had also suffered as being compatriots and loyal workers of the devil foreigners. The woman's slim fingers rub tenderly a silver teaspoon marked with an etch of a naval vessel and the name of a known seaport, the first stop to her land of birth. The captain of her rescue vessel became more than a comforter in her time of her need. While waiting for the refitting of his vessel he became her constant companion, listening to her trials of misery in quiet cafes and wiping away her tears in evening strolls. Their lips had met when they had embraced in a darkened corner of a pleasant park, which, in time, turned to the pangs of craving desire. She touches longlingly the slim gold necklace hanging delicately around her white throat reaching out to the small locket. It was a parting gift from her naval captain, presented to her upon the night before her embarkation from that maritime port. It was an evening of tender love where they had embraced and coupled without any care to future. It was a momentary affair and they knew in their hearts that the following day would be one of parting. She looks once again at the photo of her husband, and silently expresses her love for him. Then again she touches the locket and she feels no regrets. Letters she received in the past were few, which only spoke of a new life, the welfare of growing children, and of plans to the future. At first the gracious woman had answered with simple pleasantries, and of her quiet life, but through the ensuing years letters remained unopened and unanswered. True, through worded correspondence, both her family and her husband's kinfolk had offered her the hospitality of their homes, but she declined. She had lost her only companions in life and she prefers to live in her lonliness with the gem of remembrance. The elder woman lifts up the teacup and she sips graciously the flavoured contents, and a few tears gently flow from her grey eyes.
Copyright © 2001 Norman A Rubin |