Chapter 81:
She had a dream.
A terrifying dream.
In a frozen ocean with a white fjord, a large group of seals swam happily. In the icy water, the seals cried so loudly that her ears hurt. When she finally opened her eyes, she could still hear their cries.
In her dream in the white winter ocean, the hunters shot their guns at the seals and suddenly, the water started to turn red.
A beautiful clear ocean quickly turned into a bloodbath.
No matter where she looked, all she could see was red. Suddenly, she heard a desperate cry.
A mother crying after losing her young.
A father crying after losing his mate and his young.
The surviving seals fought the hunters viciously to survive and protect the remaining young.
The bloody red ocean called out to her.
“...!”
When Silje woke up, her body was wet with her own sweat.
It was dark in the room and she was panting. It was dark outside, which ant it was still very early in the morning.
Tick tock tick tock.
Listening to the clock ticking, Silje sighed.
A white cloud ford in front of her and the room was freezing cold.
Silje wondered, ‘Where am I?’
And who was she? What was she doing here?
She looked around, and of course, she knew where she was. It wasn’t so unfamiliar anymore. There was the old wallpaper, the ugly clock on the wall, and a dusty flower vase.
Silje still wondered, ‘Where is this?’
Sitting up in her bed, she remained immobile and quiet.
She stayed like this until the sun started to rise. The golden light seeped into the room through the window, and soone yelled out her na from outside her bedroom door.
“... Silje! Silje!”
She flinched as she realized what ti it was. The sharp voice of an older woman continued, “Silje! Where are you?”
Whenever she was alone in the dark room, Silje could forget everything just for a second.
Oh, Aunt Skina was calling for her.
Silje opened the door and walked out. She found Aunt Skina in the hallway looking frustrated and unhappy.
“Did you go to bed late last night? We are already late! Why aren’t you up and ready yet?”
When Silje remained unmoving, Aunt Skina looked disapprovingly as she hurried her.
“The vegetable truck will be here soon. We need to be ready to accept the shipnts. Get going now!”
Silje had to go to the store to arrange the fresh vegetables and get ready for the custors. Aunt Skina’s words didn’t register, but Silje’s body still moved automatically.
“Hurry, Silje!”
Before her aunt could say another word, Silje went downstairs and opened the store door expertly.
Since when was she so familiar with this life? This work?
It was as if she had been doing this forever.
She knew she had a dream, but she couldn’t rember it now.
Honk honk!
The vegetable truck was here. It was ti to get to work.
***
Her days were always the sa.
When the sun rose, she got up in her dingy bedroom.
“Silje! Silje, where are you?”
With Aunt Skina’s yell, she would leave her room to go to work. She didn’t even have to think because her body moved on reflex.
“Silje! The truck is coming. Open the back door and get ready to receive the vegetables. We need to arrange them right now!”
Silje now lived in East Village of New York. It was a neighborhood in New York City where a large Russian, Ukrainian, and Jewish population lived.
Aunt Skina’s store was open every day and Silje’s day started at 5am in the morning. Aunt Skina used to own a at store in the Yorkville Market, but she moved here so ti ago.
Silje’s main job was to constantly stock and arrange the produce in the store. Aunt Skina joked with her custors, but Silje always remained quiet. Silje carried heavy vegetables to the store and arranged them on the shelves. She cleaned the store and helped the custors. She moved like a robot as her work was repetitive.
Aunt Skina was a an boss who nagged Silje everyday. Silje worked fast, and she liked it this way because if she wasn’t moving, she would be lying on the bed all day.
The store opened for the custors at 7 am every day.
It was a busy place and the regulars included average homakers to small retailers. Many tried to haggle, making the place loud.
“What? What are you doing, Silje? Get up on the ladder and bring down those vegetables now! The custors are waiting.”
Nag, nag, nag.
“Celery looks fresh today. Maybe I should make celery soup for dinner tonight. I need to also get so carrots and potatoes.”
The custors chatted among themselves and with Aunt Skina loudly.
White haired Aunt Skina was a very social woman and whenever she saw Silje working quietly, she was annoyed.
“Hey! Did you glue your lips together? Do you not know any words other than yes and no? When the custors talk to you, you need to be nicer and be chatty. Especially when soone older than you talks to you. Who would want to buy sothing from soone like you who looks unhappy and gloomy all the ti? Do I have to teach you about manners too?”
Aunt Skina nagged endlessly at first, but Silje would not and could not act the way she wanted her to. After a few months, Aunt Skina finally gave up.
It was a good thing. All Silje wanted to do was do her work and not think. She didn’t want to feel anything. The hard and mindless labor was exactly what she needed right now.
Get up at 5 am.
Go to the store and receive shipnts.
Arrange the vegetables in the store.
Open the store at 7 am for the custors.
Every day was the sa, and just like that, ti passed by quickly.
Spring, sumr, fall, and winter.
All four seasons felt the sa to her.
Nothing different or special happened.
St. Mark’s Place.
It was a small, quiet neighborhood.
From Aunt Skina’s vegetable store, Silje could see a used antique furniture shop. Nearby, there were other antique stores and a rather large toy store for kids. It wasn’t uncommon to see gang mbers in this neighborhood and the adjacent park was often patrolled by police cars for drug dealers. Silje heard sirens regularly at night, but she never opened the window to look.
There were other stores including a bookshop and record store, but Silje rarely left Aunt Skina’s store. The only other places she frequented were the Chinese dicine store and a few places Aunt Skina sent her to for deliveries.
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