In their silhouette

On the 24th of July 1914, to honour her mother's death, Annie sat on her hind legs on her black carpet in her room, dressed in a black dress with a black scarf. Two years passed since and yet she could not get past no longer hearing her bash at her for the most useless of things. Annie almost grinned at this, and as a punishment for this, she slapped her wrist. In the living room, the radio blazed alight and bombarded news of the war. Annie lit the candles in front of her mother’s picture, shut her eyes and smiled. Everything rustled as calmly as the first glance of sunlight, awakening her and letting her know that a new day had risen. Her curtains swayed to give sight to the one thousand women marching down Rivera street. They marched in their long, round orange dresses with cheap hats on their heads and bags tucked underneath their armpits. They looked like people on a mission. The air also smelled of change. Pastors preached it, and because of it, propelled people to repent. However, uncertainty quaked underneath this change. Maybe because no one knew the outcome of the war. How many people would die? But, whatever the outcome, people will end up dying. Annie believed that if they did not end up dying in the war, then it would probably end up happening later in their lives. Her parents’ deaths proved that much to her. This very thought might affect all those women marching for the first time to work. Many had these dark clouds following them. Annie could not quite explain it then and neither could she now. She just watched from her window as they walked past. But in their manner of walking, she noticed their courage and will and she admired them for it. She thought the responsibility that they had assumed from the government would make them tremble, or at least make them flee to some calmer place, but Annie had no clue of any places isolated from war. She guessed they had chosen to answer Preis’s cry and, in doing so, they intended not to fail. Every man who had pride left for war, but they had excluded the rich. Who else would deal with politics, if not them? She had no problems with the wealthy throwing balls, parties and conversing amongst themselves. Some city folks caught a few of them making light of the situation, but nothing too serious. She had gone by the name of Annie. She liked to see herself as Annie, a woman whose past burdened her and who thought she could take on the world. Nowadays, she goes by the name of Anette. It had formed part of her process of moving on in a way. But today, she had every reason to be happy about her parents’ deaths, and she believed they should exclude the rich from the war. The rich worked hard, because how else would they have gotten rich? They deserved a break. They had, anyway, used their hard-earned money enough times to grow the economy. A naïve little Annie, a petty little Annie who bothered too much about her affairs than about others' well-being. Sarah used the latter to describe her. At forty years old, Annie could look back at her life, but not without some heartbreak. Those stringent times hit Preis, the city she inhabited, hard. It hit her hard. Preis changed their perspective on water guns, even though some kids, about fifty, still kept them. The men soon realized that their imagined war differed from the actual war. No kids threw snowballs–bombs at each other. Adults have made war a no-kids-pretence-war game. Even the toy water guns, with which kids played and which acted as models for real guns, paled compared to those used in the war. Annie did not know if kids anywhere else pretended snowballs exploded, but here, in Preis, they did. When Preis, a peaceful city with its rigid religious systems, heard the news of Los Ralos Ferdinando of Oklahoma and his wife’s passing, everyone quietened down for a few minutes. Hours passed before they finally retook economic activities. What did they do during those hours? They watched, waited and prayed despite knowing that everyone had no mind to care anymore; too angry and caught up in their own anger. But Preis had taught them to always wait and pray for a miracle. This time, she guessed they had taken a different approach, these priests and pastors. They did not ask them to wait for a miracle and instead asked husbands, brothers, and sons of the middle class and poor class to pull their weights and prove themselves before the eyes of Jesus, their Lord and savior. Oklahoma had declared war on Montana, so no more prayers; enough of it, they said. They needed action. Many boys left Preis sickly despite having seen them just fine a couple of days ago. Nowadays, Annie sees the mistakes in religion and how it never really advanced Preis. It brought more judgement than love. When the news broke out, the season to grow cucumbers, tomatoes, peppers, squash, sorrels, beans, greens and berries had just greeted Preis, not the right time for war. The young men who took off to war would miss it. Those who remained prayed as the government had commanded. They prayed for those boys’ safe return and prayed that the war ended soon, and that it did not end up destroying the world. The government asked them to never stop praying. They waited for a miracle back here, in Preis. Earlier in the morning, she saw a butterfly flapping in front of her window and, despite the war, while dressing, she whistled to her favourite rock and roll band, Foo fighters. Her stomach hummed with excitement. Her father would not die in the war! How great! This brought her smile back after days of mourning for them. With the morning fresh, she harvested those ripped cucumbers, tomatoes and beans, and with the help of Sarah, her sister. It still shocked her how she convinced it to come and help her. Annie had a unique fondness for beans and patted them happily after putting them on her wagon. The woman in the town square had been gossiping again, and through their gossip she got to know how important beans would become. She appreciated money. However, back then, she appreciated them for many reasons. Now, she finds no purpose for them. The beans, she believed, would bring in the money necessary for Sarah’s wedding dress. After she had set everything in my wagon, she drove Bercy hard to the town square. She saw nothing special about the town square, yet it provided her with a means to survive. It was an open area with many tents and it stood right in front of the factory. The tents had tables underneath them on which the salesman could set up their food. The town square, like God in its own right, had rules and regulations that she needed to follow to ensure that she succeeded. It rewarded tardiness. Because she always arrived early, she picked the best tables. It never ran out of tables, but making profit did not evolve around whether one had a table. As she loaded her things on her table, the other women drifted in. They babbled and fought over tables like maniacs. Some women settled their fights over a game of rock, paper, and scissors. She kept her head down and focused on setting up her stall. She had put the boxes of beans at the centre of the table, the boxes of tomatoes to the right of it, and then the boxes of cucumbers to its left. Tini whistled past her table. She paused for a minute to stare at her. “Why can’t you ever find somewhere else to sell your goods? My gosh, I swear you have brought us bad luck selling here. You know, with that face of yours. “ Tini slammed her box on her table. Annie swiped her gaze from Tini and back to her table. “Good morning to you too, Tini. How is your father? I am sorry to hear about your brother.” Tini croaked. “It’s an honour; in fact, at the start of summer he was already getting bored. The war couldn’t come quick enough.” Tini grinned as she set up at the left side of Annie. “Father said that we would sell the farm. Moving on from here. He said that things are hard wired to fall.” Annie faced Tini. “Hadn’t your father promised your mother to take care of the farm? That’s a family farm there. Why would he just…” “We owe nothing to the dead.” Tini glared at her. Annie’s inside quivered as she fished out another poster from her wagon. “Aren’t you interested in what we will do with the money?” Annie quivered. “If I took an interest, then I don’t think I could keep up this friendly chat with you.” Tini let the tips of her fingers touch Annie’s wrist and afterwards rubbed them against her yellow dress. “I am sorry you are stuck here on this stinking farm, but don’t make it other people’s problem.” Mariah, a dark-skinned female with eyes as sharp as leopards, settled on the table beside her and after a few minutes of silence, she turned to look at Annie. “You’ve heard, haven’t you?” She asked. Annie looked into her eyes, but still never understood how Mariah made them big like cats. She turned back to her stall. “Do you ever feel stuck?” Annie muttered. Tini chatted with Carlos Brown, and her laughter drilled a hole in Annie's heart. “You’ve heard, heh?” Mariah asked again. “What do you mean, stuck? You love this place. Is Tini getting into your head again?” Annie shook her head. “No. I don’t know. Surely there has to be more to this.” She had tears in her eyes, which she batted away. Mariah sighed. “We always have this conversation. What would your father say?” “That I should stay and build the farm. It is what is best.” Annie looked away from her stall. “You are right. Anyway, what is the news?” “The government will provide money to families who have sent their sons or husbands to war. It is to support them.” Annie scoffed. The government did them justice. Money will bring those families a bit of comfort. The government finally noticed them, other than her and her sister, of course. Anyway, Preis had many rich folks who could afford to help. They had not just been praying for the war to end. They also prayed that the economy remained intact and that the rich would continue to invest ever-so generously. The government’s plan did not surprise her. Annie increased the price of tomatoes on the table, making them five polls higher per tomato, and left the beans at 2.50 polls per packet as she wanted to first gauge their reaction. She grabbed a broom from her wagon and cleaned the space around her table. Last time, Sir Lombard refused to purchase her food, and she figured out why that had been the case. She had presented her stall too much to his distaste; so this time, she cleaned the area around her table and hoped Vario did not throw rubbish at her table again. Annie needed a hundred more polls for Sarah’s wedding dress. She noticed how intensely Mariah stared at me. “What the f**k is the matter now?” she asked her. “Do you know how the government will fund this scheme?” Mariah asked after blinking thrice times. “The rich, of course?” Annie crossed her arms. Mariah shook her head. “The farmers.” “What?” Annie gasped. Annie studied Mariah’s face and five minutes later, when she had still not smiled, she realised Mariah spoke the truth. “Why?” Mariah shrugged. “He wants to tax us more.” “Motherfuckers. I would like to see him have a try at me.” Annie punched the air. “I know how to fight. I ain’t afraid. Even if he is my f*****g brother-in-law.” Mariah laughed, covering her mouth as she did so. “Oh, my goodness. You wouldn’t dare. He would kill you like he killed him. He would swat you like a fly. Boom, baa, gone.” Mariah said while wiggling her fingers in front of Annie’s eyes after having slapped the table. Annie crossed her hands and spread her feet apart. “b***h, please. I would like to see him try. It would serve him well to remember that us farmers are already poor. We are at the bottom of the food chain. Instead of giving these families money and so charging us excessive fees, I would be more willing to give them food, but money. No.” With a sigh, Mariah sat down. “You know, I haven’t paid my fees for the last three months.” Annie, after returning her broom to its place in the wagon, found something to busy herself with. She arranged the boxes, swept the tables and adjusted the price tags. While doing all this, she thought she had better say something or else Mariah might find her suspicious. “Better pay them now, my blossom.” She hid her trembling hands behind the boxes she had just fixed, away from Mariah’s eagle eyes, just like she hid all her due fees underneath her bed, out of her sister’s eyes. “Did those assholes send you a warning already?” Mariah flapped her paper fan, her eyes on Eve. “I wish I was also marrying rich.” Annie gave one feisty glare at Eve and scoffed. “You are so much prettier than her. b***h, don’t try me. I have no patience for the devil today.” “But I have been praying and waiting. I don’t understand,” Mariah said, and then frowned. “Then pray harder,” Annie told her. “And maybe put yourself out there, you know?” Mariah raised her eyebrows at her. “What do you mean?” Annie, as accustomed to Preis, knew well of its indoctrinated people. Mariah had asked her indirectly whether anywhere in her statement Annie perhaps thought she defied God. “I mean, like you can’t get anything in life if you don’t ask for it." Mariah scowled. “I asked for it.” “I mean like the Annual year’s dance. I’ve heard many women have snatched, for themselves, a man there.” Annie sat down in front of Mariah, and carefully thought over her next words. “Maybe you could also attend it and then pray to God to show you the man.” Mariah rolled her eyes. “Maybe I just don’t care about stuff like that.” “Then f*****g stop wasting my time with unnecessary talk.” Annie blurted out as she stood up and went to tend to her stall. “You speak of me. What about you, hah?” Mariah asked. Annie shrugged. “What about me? There is nothing to me but me. And anyway, I have given my life to God. I serve him.” She smirked at Mariah. Mariah frowned. “Don’t you dare mock Mister Miller. Poor man, he was in love with you. I hope you regret your decision. You do, don’t you? But then again, there were always those rumors about him and Tiana.” “Tiana.” Annie got goosebumps all over her arms. “It is strange, hey, how he left at the same time as Tiana was burnt. Do you think it’s true that he had impregnated her?” Sugar grunted at them as she passed through. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he had. Mister Miller has strict parents and they are religious at that. Poor Tiana, just a baby, and to have died such a terrible death. It breaks my heart and it should break yours too. If you knew what was good for you, you would stay away from Mister Miller.” Annie rolled her eyes after Sugar went by. What a nosy woman who never liked to not keep her nose out of people’s business. Mariah shrugged. “Better Mister Miller than Mister Caddel. Don’t you think, hey?” She continued. "Mister Miller, still chasing after you, ain't he? Poor man." The past could never stay where it belonged, and Annie realised this, but she could also just change the topic. Annie, however, had been oblivious to Mariah’s need for validation and comfort after the sight of Eve, and now she made sure that Annie too remembered that she too once and still had an admirer whose love Annie’s worthless soul could not have and yet another lover, Annie still longed for. “Get ready, blossoms. Here they come.” Annie opted to tell her instead of answering her question. Mariah instantly stopped flapping her fan and stood up. The men Preis had excluded from the war walked proudly along their tables, with their heads held high. Their women, while flapping their fans and frowning at the food on display, accompanied them. They had soft gloves, not messy ones, tight buns, but not too tight and long, glittery dresses. Annie’s eyes turned into two gold coins when she saw them. As she waited eagerly for one rich person to cast their eyes on her and approve of my food, a sudden dizziness seized her captive. Annie blamed it on the ever-increasing heat and the noise in the market, but God, how wrong she had drawn her conclusion because her f****d-up past and ghost memories had their ways of reaching her. One woman paused in front of her stall, snapped her fan shut, let go of her husband’s arm and tapped at the boxes of tomatoes. “Are these fresh?” “Of course, ma’am. I picked them up just this morning. Would you like some?” Annie tore a plastic bag, ready and already forgetting about the dizziness. “How many?” The woman sighed. “Five.” Annie picked out five good ones, not ugly, even though they had the same purpose as the good ones. She just did not know. “How has your day been, ma’am?” she smiled. The woman flapped her fan again. “My son has gone to war.” The man smiled, tight-lipped. “I think he is doing the right thing. He is doing his duty. He is becoming a man.” Annie saw her opportunity as their potential everlasting supplier and seized it. “Oh, but you must worry about your poor wife’s sanity and health.” Annie made eye contact with the wife. “She isn’t saying that he shouldn’t have gone, but only that she is worried about him.” The woman nodded. “Yes. You see. She understands me. He is still so careless. Now he is out there with guns and what not.” She massaged her forehead. “I don’t even want to think about it.” “I can imagine. Sorry.” Annie bowed her head, then looked at the two with renewed hope. “But if you two are anything my eyes see, then I am certain that your son will come back victorious.” The man smiled from ear to ear. What simple creatures, yet so caring and emotional if they were given the freedom to be so. The woman nodded; wiping away tears, she asked. “How much?” Annie handed her the plastic bag. “Ten polls.” The woman tapped the man’s hands with her fan. The man opened her purse and gave Annie twenty polls. “Have a good day, ma’am. Sir.” she bowed. “Thank you, dear. Be safe.” Blossoms, Mariah grabbed her wrist. “They sent their child to war?” Annie nodded. “But why? They had the option not to.” Annie pulled her hands away from hers. “Not my job to understand them. Maybe we should pray about it, yah?” Mariah nodded. She, unfortunately, looked very serious. “Or maybe they thought it was the good thing to do in the eyes of the Lord. You know, fight for something that is worthy and pure?” Mariah’s eyes brightened. Annie put the money inside her purse, zipped it, and sighed. Eighty polls left until Luis Lopez gave her Sarah’s wedding dress. Vario began calling out to the customers. “Come get your tomatoes, eggs, milk, all at lower prices! Come get them before they run out.” Annie also raised her voice. “Fresh tomatoes. Picked this morning. Come get them. Cucumber and beans! Nutritious! Value for money.” “How much?” one old man asked as he approached her neat table. “Four for the cumbers and two fifty polls for the beans.” “Fair enough.” The man handed over fifty polls. Once he departed, Annie punched the air once the man took his leave. “Sorry, Madame. The beans?” “Oh, yes.” From across the street, Vario stared at Annie, and her eyes blazed, alright. Annie wiggled her fingers at her. Vario rolled her eyes and packed away her boxes. Their time for selling finished. The customers seemed to have loved the beans. The ugly and unwanted tomatoes and cucumbers remained. Two of the former and three of the latter. Annie treasured them for dinner tonight. She never understood how she failed to apply this to her own life. Now, after clearing her table, she tallied up her day’s success just to find out that she fell short of ten polls. From whom could she get ten polls? Mariah had finished packing up. She dusted her hands off and sighed. “Shall we go?” “Mariah?” Mariah shook her head. “Nope. I know that baby voice. You want something, don’t you?” Annie nodded. “Ten more f*****g polls for Sarah’s wedding dress.” Mariah shook her head. “I can’t. I’ll be needing them to pay for my taxes. You don’t have threats of your farm being taken away from you. Nah? Feel pity for me.” Annie frowned. Mariah looked at her and smiled. “You have money, don’t you, yah? Why are you asking me, hah?” Annie closed her bag. “It’s not that.” she put the last things onto her wagon. “It’s just… I didn’t want to draw from my own pockets. Sarah doesn’t even contribute to anything.” Mariah grunted. “Dah. She is getting married to the governor’s brother. She is pretty. The prettiest of the two of you. She’ll clearly bring money for you. You’ll be rich.” Her breath came out too breathy at the rich part. One important thing you must know about adults, about her: they never got out of the illusion they created about life. It hurts when she thinks about it. So when Mariah said this, her heart blazed with hatred as black as coal. Such an unshakable feeling seized her throughout their ride home. Annie got on her horse, Bercy, and galloped away before Mariah got on hers. Mariah eventually caught her. Mariah then said, “ It's true. Also, maybe if you don’t want to dig in ‘em pockets, yah, you can always join the factory workers. Apparently, the cotton industry is booming.” “Maybe.” Mariah continued, moved by the hope of earning Annie’s forgiveness for her inadequacy as a friend. “Times are changing. The war is proving that much, heh.” “Maybe.” The lonesome, silent ride home, caused by Annie’s stubbornness, caused Annie some distress. All the years she had spent with Mariah, she learnt Mariah would continue to pester her until she ended up speaking to her, pleasing her and giving her a sense of control and power. It never occurred to Annie that Mariah, maybe, too, went through really hard things during that time. Mariah, always quiet, spoke of her deepest concerns when the right time presented itself. Annie kept staring at her and wondered why Mariah didn’t bother her and ask for forgiveness? Too concerned with her own affairs, Annie failed to notice Mariah’s wrinkled forehead and bleeding lips from having chewed them too much. Annie wanted to taunt her, but not to ask what bothered her, only to say that she would never forgive her for her words. The fork whereby they departed arrived too early. “Bye.” Mariah waved. She grunted. She became determined not to speak to her until Mariah apologized for her hurtful words, but deep down, Annie believed her. Annie did not look pretty; she failed horribly in that criteria so much that she banished her chance at affection. Her dark soul did not compensate for her looks. Often, in anger, the dark attic contained her, and she proceeded to self-harm to satisfy the deep need for pain that her mother left in her. As she guided Becky down the hill, Vario halted beside her and carried on at Annie’s speed. “Congratulations to Sarah. We knew she would make it big.” Annie grinned at Vario. “How ‘bout you?” Vario huffed and picked up speed. “I have my eyes on Peter. See you in the town square again. Get ready because next time I ain’t letting you take my customers away.” Annie mimicked Vario as she came down off Becky. The woman loved to mount her stress levels for no apparent reason. Their friendship could only breathe through competition. At the sight of her cottage, dizziness seized her, and she leaned against Becky to catch her breath and regain her vision.