The Market

I returned to the market, it didn’t matter if the flow of the crowd had brought me there or if I was compelled to return because I felt apologetic. Attempts at boarding up the windows had now been made because the shattered windows lay on the grimy sidewalk, twinkling like a thousand diamonds. There was a thick layer of grit in the atmosphere as the placed had clearly been torched the night before. It was still smoldering now, though the firefighters had left, as it was going to remain in this state for at least a couple more hours. It also tainted the crisp winter morning air. The coverage by the media and police officers faded. Though remnants of yellow caution tape still remained on the scene.

                Had this been the same supermarket I walked into earlier this week? It didn’t resemble what I remember. Last time I was here anxiety had taken over, I felt nervous, I couldn’t possibly stand still. I heard the faint ticking of the old grandfather clock, it was the only thing I could home in on to keep myself together. My suit wasn’t the fanciest, though the quickly forming sweat stains wouldn’t help my appearance either. I am of medium build, brown eyes and have a tan skin tone.

 A series of unfortunate events had led me to the place I am now. As a recent high school graduate, I had to start looking for a job. One would think it would be typical for a student to look for a job and that it won’t be a big deal, but for me it was difficult. I fell out with my parents not a month before. We disagreed over whether I was going to get to go to college. The afternoon I had brought up going to college, my father was sitting out on the patio of our suburban townhouse. We didn’t live in the fancy part of town, rather closer to the sewage treatment plant. He was out there drinking some Johnny Walker, shorting his life in my opinion. My father never really had a proper job, he was a freelance contractor, and not a great one either. He would spend his time scamming people into believing he would build them houses or renovate their kitchens and what not, though he always took the money and vanished, like a puddle on a scorching summer afternoon. Not unlike how he disappeared from his responsibilities.  My mother was a nostalgic, always daydreaming, never here for my brother nor I. I don’t know what she saw in my father, though whatever it was, it was now long gone. The only glimmer of light left in my life is Lucas, my younger brother. My parents don’t truly care for him, I felt as if they were keeping him more for the tax benefits rather than out of love.

So there I was at the age of 18, packing what few belongings I had, moving out onto the street. My first instinct was to try to get a job, though I lacked experience and qualifications. Without a fixed address, it was difficult to try to land a job. I spent a month on the street, scourging through trash bins to find unfinished meals or items of value. I was even forced to pan handle in attempts to get a meal. It would get cold at night, thus I would try to stay indoors as long as possible. Most businesses didn’t take too kindly to a homeless person loitering. The local library was my only sanctuary, though the librarian would occasionally give me stern glances, she never asked me to leave unless I was being disruptive. I would take in the heat, perhaps even get in an hour or two of shut eye, wishing that there would be more hours before the library would eventually close for the night. I would be jarred the moment I stepped outside, as the frigid and merciless winds took their turn at demolishing my already crumbling life. The most dangerous times of my life was the time in between the library closing and dawn. While the city slept, there were fewer cops outside, and more precarious characters roamed or even hunted in the dark.

I knew this lifestyle would lead nowhere, I certainly didn’t have the stamina to continue living like this, and for the sake of my brother I had to persevere. While I was panhandling outside a market, an employee came outside and put up a “Help Wanted” sign. This would probably be the best shot I had at getting my life together, I figured if with a job, I could provide for myself as well as my younger brother. I knew that I would have to be presentable in order to get a job. I saved up what I could, skipping out on the already few and poor quality meals I had each day. Within a week I was able to save up $25, though that would not even be enough to get the cheapest formal attire from the thrift store. Luckily the cashier that day was kind enough to lend me a blazer, as I had gone to the same high school as her. That was probably the most thoughtful act that someone had done for me in a long time. I bought a pair of dark pants and a plain full sleeved shirt. With the little change that remained I went to the nearby internet café bought some coffee and sat down at one of their public computers, there I was able to hastily type up a resume from a template that I had found on the web. That evening, when I returned to the library, the librarian had to do a double take in order to take in what I was wearing. I could see my resemblance against the shiny plaque which displayed their logo. I looked like James bond whose suit’s colour changed from blue to red and finally to yellow as it moved from left to right. I remember telling myself, “I am now prepared to tackle the real world, this is my time to finally prove myself”. I went to the washroom to freshen up, I rubbed soap into skin until my face was flaming, I knew I had to look my best for tomorrow. I dewed up my hair with water, as if it was a makeshift gel, it wasn’t going to last till the morning, but with my new found confidence, it couldn’t hurt.

As the hours ticked by, a familiar feeling came across me, the same feeling of when you have an important test to take the next day, you’re anxious to take it, wondering if you’ve prepared enough though at the same time you want to get it over with, then forget about it. Tomorrow would be judgment day, or so I thought, I would either get the job or…, I quickly surpassed any other thoughts. As the clock chimed 10, I was already on my way out the frost stricken sliding doors. The howling of the relentless winter gusts didn’t detour me that night. I kept pacing, wondering what I would say to the interviewer.

A dreadful downpour began later in later that night, the only place that remained dry were the stairs leading up the grand cathedral. Against the gray bulging cathedral stones in the dimly lit and hazy streets it was strenuous to make out any other figure, though another man was waiting out the rain. He was dressed in a two part track suit, with three white stripes running down throughout, his spotless white sneakers suggested that he was doing better than me. As I approached he held out his cigarette, a gesture of good faith I suppose, though I politely declined. I’d seen my fair share of poor decision making. I must have come across as a victim of unrequited love, I was dressed formally but had a long expression across my face, what else could lead a young man onto the streets at night? Though I did share one characteristic with a broken hearted lover, desperation. He introduced himself as Gally, he was curious what I was doing on the street, I told him that my ungrateful parents had left me in this situation. He began to discuss his own past, I was able to relate to most of his issues, irresponsible parents, not having an easy start in life, and at that point it didn’t matter to me if it was the truth or if it was fabricated, I absorbed all he said. It wasn’t till the end when he became bitter and furious I woke up to the truth. He wanted revenge, he wanted to make his family suffer for what they did to him as well as society for not helping him afterwards. He claimed that dark days for the city were coming and that many others shared similar views. He waited expectantly for me to accept his invitation into committing burglary or vandalism. Though I believed I was better than that, so I just took off, without looking back.  For my younger brother’s sake I couldn’t stoop so low, I needed to be a positive figure in his life, though I would first need to get him back.

The bright reflection of the rising sun on the puddles signaled the start of a new day, one that could be filled with hope. I was waiting at the door of the market, as if I had anything better to do. I entered promptly as the doors were unlocked. The aroma of the freshly baked pastries was lingering in the air. How I could imagine working here, perhaps even sneaking a pastry or two for my brother. I couldn’t be this naïve, I had to focus on the task at hand. I then immediately sought out an employee and began to discuss how I would apply for a job. He referred me to the store manager. I waited patiently outside his office, it was taking him longer than I thought, over 30 minutes had passed. I began to doubt why I had come here in the first place, though I suppressed those feelings, as they would not be what a hiring manager would be looking for. Finally the door creaked open, he quietly invited me in. He was dressed as one would expect. His shirt had the green company logo and it was accompanied by a matching tie along with a blazer overtop. His expression was stern though his body language suggested that he was uneasy with my presence. Was my suit not up to par? Had last night’s downpour left my appearance jagged? He began by asking some typical questions, what are my aspirations? How would those relate to working as a cashier at this supermarket? Those were possible to answer, though when he gave me an application form to fill out, I hesitated. I filled out as much as I could, leaving the spaces where it asked for my parent’s names and my home address blank. I thanked him for his time and let myself out of the room, avoiding the menacing stare he must have been giving me at that time. Though it was worse than I thought, walking down the aisle, I could imagine him thinking “Get out you worthless hobo, this establishment has no place for you!” I was not going to get the job.

I barged out of the shop. No one deserves to be judged like this, I was victim of circumstance, it was not my choice to fend for myself on the streets. There was nothing different I could have done. I quickly walked down the sidewalk. I dumped my blazer into the side alley, it was no longer useful, nor did I have a care in the world. There was no place in particular I was trying to get to, but all that I could think of was that I needed to get out of here. I continued walking until I arrived upon the same cathedral, Gally was conveniently waiting there underneath. As if he knew that I would return. There we discussed his plans. He wanted to attack society where it hurt most, at the centre of our city, where most of the shops, offices and services were located in our city. He  had already gathered up a crowd of people who supported his idea. We were all of a similar age. “Recruits form the street”, I thought to myself. They seemed like a rag tag bunch of volunteers though I didn’t doubt their loyalty as they gobbled up all Gally had to say.

Gally was keen on getting me on board, thus our first target was the supermarket. Or had that always been the plan. We regrouped outside the parking lot across from the market close to 3 a.m., I choose the time, it was designed to minimize any possible causalities. The chilly night time air cut deep through my cheap make-shift jacket. Small clouds of condensed water formed in front of me each time I took a breath. Our goal was to vandalize the market, we knew their insurance was going to cover it, though personally, I couldn’t imagine what the manager’s expression would be once he saw the carnage. We were not a special “black ops” team, so when the time came, we just barged at the windows with jagged which had fallen off from the cathedral’s deteriorating walls. I expected the glass to crack and shatter with ease due to the icy cold air making it brittle, though I was not prepared for the sound of all the windows shattering.

It reminded me of the time when my family and I were trying to teach Lucas to drink out of a glass. He had been used to plastic bottles which were “baby-proof”, though he was a toddler now, so we gave him a glass one anyway. By mistake we forgot to heat up his milk, we were too fixated in trying to teach him how to hold the cup. That would come back to haunt us. Once he took his first sip, his tiny little face cringed up, mine too, as I knew what would be coming next! Out of surprise he spit out the cold milk and pushed the glass off the table, it shattered on our tiled dining room moments later.

I felt the firm grasp of Gally’s hand on my shoulder. “Come on, it’s time we head on inside”, he said. I was about to walk in when I noticed a figure outlined by the yellowish glow of the street lamp, she was holding out something that appeared to resemble a phone. The sound of the glass shattering could have been heard around a 5 block radius. In her other arm she was holding up a bag, it had the colours of our library’s logo on it, blue, red and yellow. Who goes to the library this early in the morning I thought to myself? Then it struck me, she wasn’t going to the library to borrow books, she was the librarian. Could it be the same librarian who provided me warmth during these bitter dark nights? ”Now what have I done” I thought to myself, I am no different than my father, and certainly have no right to take care of my younger brother. So I did the only thing I knew how to do, what I had done countless times before that week, I ran.

Though not for long, my malnourished body didn’t leave me with the fit body. Had I outrun Gally? Did he even run? Or had he carried on with vandalizing and looting the market? I am a failure, I failed myself as well as Lucas. I even threw away borrowed gifts from friends, that night I had rejected any possible hope I had of forming a better life. I couldn’t return to the library now neither go to the cathedral. There was no place in this city left for me. Here I stand, in front of the carnage of the market, it is similar to how my life has turned out. I reach into my pocket and reassuringly grasp the bus ticket I had bought this morning. I do not deserve any more than this.

               

The Tenant of Wildfell Hall

       My creative writing class was fortunate enough to be able to view The Tenant of Wildfell Hall which was based on Anne Brontë's novel, directed by Sarah Rodgers and the venue was the Fredric Wood Theatre in UBC. The play discuses the difficulties and gossip Helen Graham faces as she tries to escape her past by moving to Wildfell Hall.

       I found the play to be appropriate in length, it entertained us for a bit over 2 hours with the curtain being lifted around 7:30 pm. Also a short break mid play was given to the audience to freshen up or visit the concession stand. The play was brilliantly performed by UBC Bachelor of Fine Arts students. There was plenty of seating available for the audience, though it was a bit constricting in terms of space. They play employed a simplistic set which consisted of a mash up of windows in the background and a ramp in the centre to allow the audience to see all the characters at once. While changing the locations, the actors would add or reuse a minimal amount of props such as a  few canvases to represent Wildfell Hall or put together chairs to create a makeshift bed in which Arthur Huntingdon, Mrs. Graham's laid. This minimalist concept allowed for seamless transitions in between scenes, without there ever being a need to pull down the curtain. An audience orientated vibe was given off because the production clearly did not disrupt the audience's concentration. The play relied on the actors being able to hold the focus of the audience and enveloping them in their dialogue versus letting their set be the centre of attraction. Which to the actor's credit, they did an astonishing job at keeping me interested steadfast throughout the play. The costumer designer, Jacqueline Firkins was able to well encompass the time period of the play, 19th century England, as all the actors wore authentic and stunning clothing. I didn't notice any problems with how the play was lit, the sequences and transitions in between scenes where the lights would be dimmed were clearly well rehearsed. Overall, the production quality was clearly professional and had been thought out.

       The actors remained in character throughout, without ever breaking the 4th wall, as one would expect from the majority of actors being 4th and final year acting students. I didn't notice the actors using mics, or if they did they did, they must have hid them well, in either case they articulated clearly and loudly enough for me to clearly hear and understand their lines. They also used British accents, which for the most part were well integrated into the production and reflected the vocabulary and speaking style of their characters. The accents were not overdone, therefore they added another layer to the intricacy of the characters. The actors never appeared to be nervous nor did I ever feel as if they had forgotten their lines or were deviating from their script. They all had great stamina and were lively, and the fed off of the audience's enthusiasm. While an actor was engaged in an conversation with another, I noticed that the background characters remained dynamic, they reacted to topics brought up in the conversation as well as they were preoccupied with their own gossip. This resulted in the play feeling more realistic because in day to day life, events and discussions are always occurring in the background. They also had exceptional blocking, as their staggered stances in conversations made them more open and inviting to the audience. The attitudes and energy of the actors contributed to the finished production.
   
       The dialogue of the play was well adapted from the novel which created a fulfilling plot because it was inclusive of how the characters felt and acted. The plot engaged the audience with quarreling occurring in between characters, comedy and heart felt and everlasting love. It depicted the struggles of how women without their husbands were quickly judged as being extremely weak or even witches. Mrs. Graham became the town's gossip extremely quickly because she never told anyone about her past ties, which opened up space for people to create fictitious tales. The play's soliloquy was well executed by Gilbert Markham in which he finally learned about Mrs. Graham's past. Themes of alcoholism and how women were viewed during that time period, or even today are explored. Arthur Huntingdon is depicted as an abusive alcoholic husband who is not at all responsible for his wife nor his money and later dies because of his bad habits. Also the play clearly shows that women were required to stay with their husband, no matter how cruel or how many affairs their husband was having. This forced Mrs. Graham to conceal her past and hid in the countryside. Stereotypical or "stock" characters are also used in the play, for example Mrs. Wilson is clearly the gossip queen of the town, as she always is curious about everyone's private matters and continually gets asks and/or gets involved in other peoples personal problems. This along with the wit of the dialogue brings comedy to the play. The play had a dramatic storyline and explored interesting and relevant themes to truly engage the audience.

       In conclusion, The Tenant of Wildfell Hall is a simplistic yet professional production. It is must see in my opinion due to how the actors bring the story line alive through the use of authentic clothing, British accents and their own energy and charisma. It's dialogue and drama continually has the audience wondering what will happen next. It is a perfect and light-hearted way to spend an evening, I rate this play 5 out of 5 stars.