Kera's Thoughts

The red one leaned to the right a little which made it perpetually
harder to manouver. There wasn't really anything wrong with it, not
hardware malfuctions or computer bugs. Mark checked it over twice in
the past month but still nothing changed the obvious: the red car was
never going to sell, not ever. Kera's frustration stemmed from having
to drive the wreck from the display lot to the garage every night. Mark
explained they had to give it the spotlight or it would reside forever
in the back corner of his business, Avondale's SouthShore Garage.
Kera laid on the horn, trying to nudge the drowsy midnight drivers a
little faster. The tiny road that led from the SouthShore's display lot
made its way back from the high coastal cliffs through the pine forest
that grew thick almost to the water's edge. She hauled down the
rearview and checked herself over, blended a few smudges and tied back
her hair. She bleached it herself a few nights ago, trying to save a
buck. Kera laughed at herself, looking at the yellow lines on the road,
her hair looked so bad she would have to pay a salon to fix it anyways,
probably cost her more now. The radio was the key. The radio would get
her mind on something else.
Kera cranked up the volume and rolled the windows. The narrow mountain
road was winding closer to Avondale; every few moments she cruised past
driveways with iron gates, leading to large houses that clung to the
rocky cliffs and peeked out over the trees. She'd never been to a city
where the wealthy lived downtown, always they set up camp about 5 or 10
minutes outside. Kera wondered if they even left their house. She'd
never met anyone from the wealthy families; the Bowrings, the Irvings,
the Tobins and Dantzics; they always seemed to keep pretty much to
themselves. She did see Eve Bowring once, at one of Darren's parties,
only a week or two ago. She showed up with moonbeams in her eyes but
Darren took her aside, God only knows what he said, then she left the
place in tears. All Kera could remember about her now was that she was
really pretty but dressed like it was 1942.
The voice on the radio started giving the daily news and Kera reached
to change the station but something along the roadside, seeming to
reach from the dark woods, caught the corner of her eye and she slammed
on the brakes before she could turn it off. Everything was quiet,
except for the gentle purr of a brand new engine. She sat for a moment,
not breathing, her heart not beating. Her hands were locked in a death
grip on the steering wheel and the tips of her fingers were as white as
her face. She slowly turned around as if hopeing whatever it was would
be gone before she did. There was nothing, just the familiar road she
knew. She wondered what the fuck it was that could scare her like that;
it looked just like a...she didn't know...just a thing on the side of
the road. In any event, whatever it was, she imagined it. She did the
rear-view checkup again and kicked her into drive. The voice on the
radio was relentless.
"The two girls were treated at Queen Beatrix Hospital in Lourdes while
the young man was airlifted to the Health Sciences Complex in St.
John's..."
Another car accident. They were the only excitement to be had in
Avondale. Sometimes she imagined the young people did it on purpose,
trying to put an end to a boring existance in a mountain village that
was two seniors away from being declared a retirement home.
Now there were sidewalks. She was getting closer to downtown. She
laughed at the idea of a 'downtown Avondale'. It was just a few
crowded, swerving streets lined with buildings as old and drab as the
village itself. She never did understand tourists; they flocked to
'scenic' Avondale every year. If she had the money she sure as hell
wouldn't spend it in Avondale. Kera had fallen in love with Stockholm
during a class trip in highschool. That was her dream. Somewhere along
the line someone in her family had come from Sweden, there was no other
explanation for 'Kera Lambersson' and she felt like she belonged there.
Darren said it was only because she was a blonde with big tits but what
did he know? He was one of those people who would live his entire life
in Avondale, never leaving and never seeing the world, and die at the
ripe old age of 100...a happy man. She couldn't decide whether it was
pity or jeliousy she felt when she watched him smile and go about his
day.
Most of the people in Avondale were happy. There were those people who
chose to stay, who loved the mountains and the sunsets and couldn't
imagine a life anywhere else. There were those that left, whether it be
St. John's or New York, for the city; the bright lights, the
excitement, the feeling of living in a place that makes the map. And
then there were people like Kera, people that wanted to leave but
couldn't. These were the unhappy ones, people no one else seemed to
understand.
There was always, however, something about downtown that, despite
herself, she couldn't resist falling in love with. Discovery Avenue was
crowded which, even for an Avondale Tuesday, was usual. The little
boutiques and pubs looked to be full and the teenage lovers walked
misty eyed in the moonlight. It was never enough for them, she thought,
no path was ever long enough for young lovers. She could remember her
first relationships and found a kind of morbid satisfaction in knowing
these kids, so happy now, would end up bitter and dried like herself in
a few years. Kera slowed almost to a stop as she passed the Silver
Diner and peeked through the windows into the bustling inside. The
Silver, as it was called, was the hotspot for Avondale's youth. It was
in that diner, on those very stools, where people grew. Inside were the
first cautious glances, the first nervous heartbeats, the first
whispers and conversations and the beginning of loves, friendships and
lives. She smiled and watched them. Kera was only 5 years their senior
at most but it was more than enough to secure a strong distance between
them. She was past her 'at the Silver' years.
The Southshore garage wasn't far from the Silver Diner, turn left onto
Adelaide and then take your second right to Berman. 15 Berman street,
Avondale, Newfoundland. Kera laughed a little and turned into the
driveway. Why Mark didn't have a remote-door opener for the garage she
could never understand. It was a waste of time having to park, get out,
open the door, get back in, drive the car in, park and go home but she
did it anyways. She opened the door and lifted her long legs from the
car one by one. Kera was a beautiful girl, head to toe, but she dressed
and acted more maturely than her peers, sometimes too much so. A black
skirt, grey button-down and a tight ponytail gave an impression of
intelligence, power and hunger. Not only did she feel out of place in
Avondale, she looked it. Someday, no matter what, she would leave but
it wasn't something that depressed or scared her. She didn't feel
unhappy in the least. Although she did not want to live in Avondale,
she was certain that she wouldn't forever and this knowledge enabled
her to enjoy the time she was forced to spend in the village. Life goes
on, she thought. She closed, locked, double checked the door and
started to walk home. Her home was a modest duplex she shared with two
cousins from her Father's side up on Havre road. She couldn't wait to
get a warm bath and curl up for the night and wondered as she walked if
it was too late to call the hair salon before she did.

"Can you open it, please? I'm too nervous," stammered the girl. It
seemed that her entire life had been lived for this moment, that
second. The contents of that letter would decide her entire future and
the stress of the situation made it impossible for her to open it
herself, "Mother, please."
The old woman frowned and took the envelope from her daughter. She was
very refined, very well dressed; she looked as though she had spent
hours trying to make herself look like she hadn't. The woman seemed the
kind to shower and dress just to answer the phone. You could almost see
the money in her face, old money, "Eve Bowring, you're behaving like an
infant. Seriously ... well let me read what it says."
Eve's mother opened the envelope carefully, took out the papers and
looked them over with the same cynicism and impatience that she had
used against every boy Eve had ever brought home. She scanned the words
and phrases with a well-groomed finger and stopped. A wide smile spread
across her face and she read aloud, "It would be an honor and privilage
to offer a student of such discipline and experience a place in our
humble institution...you're in, Eve darling, you're in."
Eve's heart sank. She found it difficult to mask her dissapointment
but managed a smile and a hug for her Mother's sake. She took the
envelope and walked away from her, down a lavishly furnished hallway,
into an empty room whose purpose only rich people can justify and shut
the door. Her faulty mask was gone; the same mask she'd worn to every
banquet, every party, every family gathering since she'd been old
enough to know how ridiculess they were. Now she had been dealt the
final blow. Being accepted into Manchester hurt more than she could
bear. Now she would have to go to England, live in some ritzy estate.
She'd probably have to spend her days and nights with too many
relatives she'd never heard of but always had to pretend to be
overjoyed to see. She wasn't a real person; she was a stageshow, a
circus freak. She felt more like an extention of her Mother than a
person and, for the most part, she was right. She came from a long line
of unhappy young women.
The Bowring family had ruled Newfoundland with their wealth and
prestigue since the foundations were laid in North America's first
city, St. John's. Their empire was strong and many considered them to
be the closest to Royalty that Newfoundland and indeed all of North
America had. It was even said that all of North America's great cities
and wealthy families had been helped somewhere along the line by a
Bowring, they were after all the first. She had been told it was
historically proven that a member of the Bowring family had built the
first manor in New York and it was rumored amongst the clan that even
the Kennedy's, their American equivalent, were all descendants of the
great Evelyn Bowring, who married into the then insignificant Irish
family and after whom Eve was named. She couldn't help but to remind
herself that this famous Evelyn Bowring was found hanging by her neck
in the belltower of a New York City church. None of this impressed or
amused Eve, all she wanted in the world was to rid herself of the
obligations and ridiculess responsibilities of her life; to rid herself
of history.
The desperation she felt was physically overwhelming her. Tears fell
from her eyes and her hands began to shake nervously as a cold sweat
stained the envelope. She hadn't felt such a strong sense of doom, of
hopelessness, since the party, the last time she saw Darren. Eve, to
that day, still did not understand why Darren said the things he said,
why he ended a relationship they had kept private at his insistence.
All she could remember now was the shame and embarrasement of having
cried in public. Her mother had said once years before that you can
live the life of a superhero and if but once you should make some
stupid mistake, this is what would be remembered of you. Eve, quite
frankly, didn't give a shit what her family thought of her. She had
grown so disconnected and disgusted with them through her adolescent
years that they were almost strangers to her now. That isn't to say she
didn't care about her reputation, quite the opposite. She cared a great
deal what people like Darren thought of her. She wanted only to be one
of them. In her daydreams she would serve coffee at a cafe, sit with a
lover at the Silver Diner and go home at night to a simple home a few
streets up the mountains from downtown. Most of all she wanted to be
happy.
A song on the radio had been the start of it. Some ballad about being
content with life and wanting for nothing. It hit Eve so deeply that
she had to ask the chauffeur to pull to the shoulder of the road. She
was shaking then, as now, and even began to retch. That was the day
that started all this tension and discontent. Each morning Eve opened
her eyes without cheer, without enthusiasm. She would laugh when people
talked of fate and destiny, contemplating their existance. Of course
they existed; she called them Mother. There were no surprises in her
life, no coincidences. Her Mother had planned her existance by the
hour, each day so secure and certain. Much like that red-head in the
movie she and Darren had watched together, she looked at her life as
though she'd already lived it. She wondered if there could be anything
as depressing.
She began to think about this, about her Mother, and became angry. The
envelope, which now rested in shreds around her, continued to be the
focus of her aggrevation and she stomped and kicked the pieces until
there was a soft knock at the door behind her, "Miss Eve, something the
matter?"
Eve looked at the plump face, the uniform, the genuine concern in
Rosemary's eyes and collapsed. Her legs fell out from under her and she
hit the floor hard. Holding up a sobbing torso with her hands, she
reached with tearfilled eyes for compassion, compromise, anything that
would rid her of these terrible and deep-rooted feelings. Rosemary
tried to help her up and fussed over her but to Eve there was just
motion, no specifics, she was lost to the world. She could see her
Mother, Darren, Manchester, the Silver Diner and that blonde girl who
worked at the car place. All these unimportant images somehow consumed
her and made her feel dizzy, made her head spin, and this was the last
she remembered.

The Gonzaga Eagles were winning and there was nothing under the sun
that could irritate Darren as much. Avondale's beloved 'Mountain Lion'
football team proved, again, easy prey for a well-funded team visiting
from the St. John's highschool. What irritated him more was the look in
their eyes, those boys, as they walked around town, making fun of their
home and whistling at their women. They were so childish and he
wondered if everyone in the city was like that or if Avondale was just
lucky enough to have these few. Of course, now they were winning. The
icing on the cake.
Darren jumped from his seat along with the thousands of other
spectators in a brief moment of excitement and uncertainty. No goal and
now the time was up. The Gonzaga Eagles had, in one game, destroyed a
season of confidence and pride in Avondale and it was certain now they
would head downtown and begin rubbing it in. Darren cursed and punched
the bench before grabbing his jacket and taking his place in the
slow-moving line to leave, "Good game eh Darren?"
Darren turned around and smiled when he recognized one of the guys
from Lourdes, just outside Avondale. They would take the 15 minute
drive with about 20 people per car everytime there was a big game.
Darren had a respect for the hard-working men and women; his Father
always said there was nothing quite as beautiful as a woman from
Lourdes and as far as Darren could tell it was true. All the girls that
came up with the guys were beautiful, especially inside. Just because
they were gorgeous didn't mean they were too good to talk to you. They
seemed to make friends easily and weren't picky or choosy about who
with. It made him think of his ex-girlfriend, Eve Bowring; she was rich
and beautiful and the envy of everyone in town but she still had time
for a boy as simple as Darren himself. It was too bad she was so
unhappy with him. Eve never mentioned it but Darren could sense that
she was upset and thought maybe it was him. He didn't have low self
esteem but he did believe that a man like himself probably wouldn't be
enough to make a lady like Eve Bowring happy and so he ended it. It was
hard for him but on a day like today, surrounded with the girls of
Lourdes, it was hard to frown.
Their conversation changed topics from the game to the effects of
geography on the local economy and culture, a believe-it-or-not common
topic in the area. When Darren spoke he could almost hear his Father
saying the words for him, "Well, its because of the mountains see.
Avondale is just pretty so we have the whole tourism aspect to fall
back on. But you guys, out in Lourdes, you dont have that. You guys
have to make it on your own and that takes work. Avondale might be
bigger but just the fact that Lourdes still exists speaks for itself, I
mean, you guys have a lot to be proud of over there. To fall back on a
ship metaphor, you know, Avondale would be a pretty little cruise ship
and Lourdes would be a...no, a whole fleet of little tugboats,
see?"
The guys from Lourdes all laughed and nodded in agreement. The girls
smiled and wrapped their arms around whatever guy they'd rode up with,
all except one. A cute young girl, no older than 20, with long brown
hair and funky glasses. She didn't seem to be with any guy and this
made Darren anxious. He asked around a little at first to see if she
was single and when they had one and all confirmed that she was, he
approached her, "What's your name?" he asked, flashing a childish,
careless grin.
"Elsa," she said, smiling and leaning her delicate face towards her
shoulder; flirting, "You know, we're going to have a good time tonight.
Just smile, forget your problems, and enjoy it. These moments are what
living is all about."