Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapters Ten & Eleven
Epilogue
Chapter 2
I rode from the Village Mart to Selma’s Quilt Shop. I was riding a bike, not driving as I usually would. The bike is an old, I mean really old, derailleur type. I found it at a garage sale in the neighborhood I sometimes walk in. The lady selling it told me she couldn’t ride it anymore because a spider living under the seat bit her. She said it was a nasty spider and the bite had left a nasty scar on her derriere. Her husband had found a bunch of spider eggs underneath the seat confirming that that was the spider family abode. She said she was afraid to ride it now but it was a good bike. While I felt sorry for her derriere I was happy to get the bike for cheap.
I go to Selma’s because her store doubles as an art store. I get pencils, markers, watercolors and paper there. Selma is funny and sassy. She wears very thick glasses and very low tops. Imagine a cross between a librarian and a burlesque dancer and you have Selma. She is another who ended up in Sunrise with no idea how she got here. Nobody else has figured out how she got here either.
I needed to check if my little advertisement on her cork board needed replacing. It was one of those simple ones offering art lessons where you take the little tab at the bottom with the person’s name and number on it. I would get a call once in a while but usually not from people in my town but from the larger town a few miles away. The ad in that town I had to replace more often. The ad at Selma’s only had about 3 tabs ripped off, just one more than had been ripped off last time I came by a month ago.
I was also needing some new watercolors and she usually has a set sitting off in a corner waiting just for me to come in every couple months. Today, however, the set wasn’t there. It was instead in the hands of a young girl waiting at the counter. She was perhaps 10 years old, maybe 11. All I could see was her shoulder length red hair, flopping down to pretty much obscure her face. The skin on her shoulders was a mottled mix of brown, red, white and tan, as if she had recently peeled from a sunburn. I got behind her and waited for Selma to return from helping a customer find American flag fabric.
I said to the little girl, “You know, you stole my watercolors”. She turned around with big eyes set in a round freckled face and said “Really? but I really need these today.” I said “Sorry, they are reserved exclusively for me and no one else is allowed to buy them.” The girl looked a bit scared but right then Selma returned and said “Do NOT pay any attention to that man! He thinks he’s the only artist in town but now there is another one and he’ll just have to get used to it!” The girl caught on quick, realized the fun going on and said “That’s right, he will just have to get here before me next time!” I responded “Oh, next time I will be here at sunrise, you can bet on it!” She smiled and paid for the paints. As she skipped towards the door I said “Don’t use too much water with those watercolors”. I wasn’t sure if she heard me as the door closed and she went out of sight.
Selma looked at me sternly and spoke, “You scared the daylights out of her”. “She was ok, I was just about to let her off the hook and tell her I was joking when you came up.” I said. “Yea, well you better be nice to her, Melissa hasn’t had an easy life.” Selma responded. But she didn’t say any more.
I rode my bike back home. As I passed the house of the barking dogs I heard Selma say her name, Melissa. Maybe she is the Melissa of the beautiful sunrise envelope I thought as I speeded up.
© 2011 Marty Coleman
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