Excerpt: The Red Floor

Her hands trembled as they held the age old paper. Ethel Jackson had never known of the letters her mother had written all those years ago. She sighed as she placed the page on top of the pile that she'd already looked at, pausing for a moment before lifting the next letter to read. Tears welled in her daughter's eyes as she sat beside her aging mother, walking down memory lane with her. But this institution had helped Ethel build the wall that still stood firm around her and she wasn't about to let it crumble. Not here, not now. Her tears should have fallen with her daughter's, dropping onto her own paper thin skin, blending with the age spots that marked that wrinkled surface, but they wouldn't. Ethel Jackson would digest the contents of this file like she did with everything else in life - privately.
"Look at that-" Ethel commented incredulously- "my school reports!" She flipped the pages over one by one as she read. "Ethel will have to work harder if she hopes to pass at the end of the year... Ethel's chances don't look good - she's going to have to work much harder... Better than last term, but History and Accounting are going to demand far more time if Ethel wants to pass.... Hmmph-" she grunted- "how the heck was I supposed to know that? In eight years I never once saw a report. We were just moved up a standard at the end of the year, or you stayed behind if you'd failed."
Lydia touched her mother's hand. "Oh, Mom..." She wished she could erase the pain this place had caused, but she couldn't. She wished she could erase her own heartaches that life had thrown in her path, but Lydia knew the difficulties that they'd overcome in life were what had made them both the women of strength they were today. She stood and made her way over to the woman who had kindly allowed them to look at Ethel Jackson's file. Ethel and Lydia couldn't believe they still had it after sixty-six years.
"Excuse me."
The administrator behind the scratched wooden desk looked up and smiled.
"Is there any way that we could get copies of these documents?" Lydia leaned in closer to the woman and whispered. "It's my Mom and Dad's 60th wedding anniversary in December and I'm doing a scrapbook of their lives as a gift and I'd love to use some of this in there."
The woman looked around nervously. "I'm not really sure...." Seeing the disappointment on Lydia's face, she quickly added, "Give me thirty minutes, I'll make copies for you ... but please, don't tell anyone that I did this for you. I could get into a lot of trouble."
"Of course," Lydia replied, smiling. "Thank you. Thank you so much."
She returned to her mother who was still pouring over the pile of paper, reading the letters over and over. Lydia gently tapped her mother's shoulder. "Mom... they're going to make copies for us," she said as she gathered the contents and returned them to their tattered file.
Ethel looked up at her daughter, and for the first time since they'd arrived, a smile broke across her stolid face. "Really?"
"Yes, Mom." Lydia smiled as she took the file and turned back to the crude office area.
While waiting for Lydia to return, Ethel spotted a young girl seated at the far end of the room. She was no older than she had been when she finally put this place behind her. That was such a long time ago. Her hands gripped the table and with much effort she finally managed to pull herself up. It took a while for her knees to get going again as she hobbled through the room. She had just found her momentum by the time she stood in front of the teen.
"I used to live here, you know. We called this place the jail."
The teen slowly raised her eyes to look at the gray haired lady standing before her. As their eyes met and mirrored their souls, an understanding passed between them that only those who'd experienced this place could know. She grinned. "We still do, Auntie."
A faint smile formed on Ethel's lips. At least some things hadn't changed over the years.