On Bated Breath We Wait

Chapter 1

Once again, it is spring—the time of year when life is breathed back into the world. It is the time of renewal, and the one time of the year when every waking hour is filled with chores. "Clean this, clean that, did you remember to sweep that hallway?" These are the only conversations that I have, but I'm not the only one cleaning; everyone here at the Temple is. Cleaning isn’t a very exciting job, but it was the one I was born into. For several generations now my family and many others have worked these halls.

Only recently had change begun to reshape the culture and life within the Temple. It was only last year that an incident occurred where an older gentleman slipped and passed away. It was because of his own cleaning chores that the families in charge declare the changes. The youth shall clean, the elderly shall manage, and everyone in between will take care of the rest. That was their decision though many did not like it; for it took away the power that some families once held. Other families like mine were glad. As it meant that on someone’s twenty-first birthday they would no longer have to clean but could find another job. For myself that would be within a year and I no longer would have to clean. But doing the same job as everyone else your age starts to begins on your mind like you are missing something, like you could be doing something more in life.

Who am I? Is there more to life? What will my future hold? It is those depressing thoughts that fill my mind as I cycle through these hallways cleaning week after week. Occasionally I get the chance to clean by my friend Duran—a very fun guy to be around and, much like his father, a jokester to his core. Most people ask how he got such an unusual name, only to be dumbfounded when he explains that his father only called him that because he was such a smelly baby. It became a tradition that whenever I ran into Duran whiling cleaning, I would joke that whatever location we were in at the Temple I would say, "Good thing both of us are here, cause this place stinks." He and I would both laugh and start talking about how were we going to clean...with except for one time.

That day had started like any other wake up, eat breakfast and start cleaning. Nothing seemed off until I noticed people were avoiding where I was cleaning. Those who did come nearby me didn't say a word, nor glance in my direction. Had I done something wrong, did I forget something? It was about noon that a few of my friends all found me, they told me that they were given the day off by the elders and that they should find me. I told them I had no clue what was going on and that I wasn't told anything about having today off. Confused my friends followed me around as I cleaned, after a while they started chipping in helping me clean, and soon we had finished all the cleaning I had to do.

It was then as we started to walk to the food hall that we ran into Meryl, she had been like an older sister to most of us. The moment she made eye contact with me, she erupted in tears and crumpled to the ground. We tried to help her up, we tried to understand what happened; it was only after a few minutes that she was able to say, "I'm sorry." while pointing to me. My friends now even more confused started yelling at me, asking what I did and how could I have hurt her. She screamed so loud then that the whole Temple heard her say the words, "You idiots." Stunned my friends looked at her and then back to me, and I only heard Duran ask, "Then what the hell happened?" It was only in the rage at my friends and I did she overcome her sadness and explained. She had been doing odd jobs in the Temple for years it's how all of us knew her, but lately she had been helping a few researchers clean out some older rooms that were not in use. It was while cleaning one of these rooms that she discovered my father hidden under books by a bookshelf that had fallen. My heart sunk, I understood why people were avoiding me, why my friends were given the day off and told to come find me. The elders in charge were letting me grieve, but how could I.

Rage filled every fiber of my being, my friends had only seen me like this only a few times. I was known as a calm kid, the child that never caused any problems. Only Meryl was brave enough to ask what kind of stupid thing I was going to do, and my response was, "Summon the elders, I want a word with them." For someone to call for a summoning of the elders was rare, and for someone deemed in the youth group unheard-of yet within a few hours did a meet with the elders.

The only room that was available was the room the Temple used for legal disputes. Across the room sat the elders behind a tall mahogany, wing-shaped table, the room was silent until one of the older male elders spoke up saying, "Well I think we all know why you summoned us. As it pertains to your father’s sudden death. Effective immediately you are relieved of all chores duties for mourning. We will not be reassigning these to you, you have until your twenty-first birthday to discover yourself. We are sorry for your loss." Without missing a beat he followed up with, any questions.

Their arrogance only made me angrier, "Any questions?" I shouted back at them. "Bold of you all to assume what I called this meeting for!" their eyes widened in confusion and shock. "I called this meeting to ask why I was not told of father's death and that I only learned of it second hand." I continued to explain the events that transpired today and as I came full circle to the meeting at hand each elder had a face of nothing but sorrow.

The same man who had first addressed the meeting stood up and stated, "I'm sorry for how this day transpired, we will look into what happened to the messenger we sent to deliver the message. As for our earlier statement about your grieving remains. We will summon you for another meeting in the future when it comes to informing you about the messenger, as well as helping you figure out your future. Given the timing of everything today, we think we can assume no one told you about tonight." He continued to explain about a banquet that had been scheduled for tonight in my father's honor. Each of the elders spoke to me how he had changed their lives for the better and that in the event that any of them of passed away he was to be named the next elder even if he was named the youngest ever. Each story about my father slowly began to show my father in a new light, he wasn't the man that I knew. He was considerate, intelligent, thorough, all things I knew about him but hearing about him from others just was different. The elders slowly lead me out of the room walking me through the halls to the mess hall. Occasionally, one would stop point to either a fixture, scrape, or something I would barely notice and start a story about how my father either caused something to happen to it or had been the one to fix it. The walk should have taken only a few minutes, but it seemed like this was their time not mine; telling all of these stories about my father was them grieving.

By the time we had arrived to the mess hall the day had worn all of us out. The mess hall was filled with everyone from every part of the Temple, each table packed to the brim with both people and food. As the elders and I stepped in the crowd of people slowly quieted down waiting for either I or the elders to say something. The elders said quiet and stepped away from me and started to take their seats at the front of the mess hall. All eyes fell on me, and I froze. Never had I talked to most of these people, nor had I every spoken this publicly to everyone. All the elders stood in unison, raised their glass and said with tears in their eyes, "A Toast to Donahugh Laury. He was the best of us and no one shall ever forget him. Tonight, we feast in his honor. Be sure to fill these halls with stories of him, so all can witness the joy he brought." As the elders sat back down a few of them started to sob.

Each table was seemed made up of people that all had a connection, most connections were the job the people did, while others with a similar hobby or talent. Various tables around the room stood randomly throughout the night, each toasting my father differently. The masons commended him for the idea of adding lime and ash to their mortar to strengthen it. From the farmers told of the various ways he had saved their animals. One shouted, "If you like eggs, Donahugh is the reason we still have chickens alive." Apparently after a snake got into the chicken coop all the hens feared for their eggs leading them to be egg bound; normally a death sentence for chickens my father devised as simple treatment to save all of them. The librarians praised him as if a book went missing it was my father who tracked it down. Amongst the scientists and researcher each told a different story but each the same; they had a problem, and he either knew the answer or within a few days found the solution. The night was long and by time I was ready to leave I had a strong understanding of my father, who he was and what he meant to people.

As I walked to my room and fell asleep thoughts of my meeting with the elders replayed in my head. It was then that I realized what I wanted to do with my future. I want to be like my father, reliable, respected, and dependable. What will it take..... to become like him.

The next morning felt strange as I was able to sleep in, a rarity as my cleaning tasks took up most of my morning hours. It was nice, but the thoughts of last night came back to me; but where to start how to become like him. I dwelled on those thoughts for most of the morning, even as I walked to the mess hall to eat. A man I only knew in passing from last night sat down by me and watch me as I ate, as time went on I finally had the nerve to ask if I could help him. He apologized and said I reminded him of my father he went on to explain that for a time he and my father had shared a research space and wanted to let me know if I ever had any questions about what my father did he could probably help. It seemed too good to be true, it was as if everything was falling into my lap. I had asked him how and why he knew I was here, but he brushed it off joking that one of the cooks whom I had ordered my food from had informed him. I didn’t believe it, in my time here no one had left the mess hall nor had anyone else had come in after me. I outright called him a liar; he shrugged, admitted he was lying, and he would like to reintroduce himself.

He stood up and placed his arm across his chest while giving a light bow, he raised himself back up and said, "My name is Henry and for a while I thought of myself as your fathers closest friend, but we had a falling out. Oddly enough you are the result of the falling out, as we both had fallen in love with your mother, may she rest in peace." He went on to explain the story of how he and my father met, worked together for years and met my mother. Partway through I had to stop him and ask if he knew my mother so well how did she die and that my father explained very little about her to me. He smiled and chuckled, “Oh course, your father was also a fool in the love department, and also the sharing department. Just between you and me some of his research nearly got us killed a few times.” He reached for his back pocket while mentioning he expected as much showing me a sketch of what I only assumed to be my father, mother, him, as well as three other people. He explained that was a sketch done by another research colleague and the people in the sketch were what my father called, “Loud and Right”. Now he was the only member alive, sorrow filled the air with that statement. He rambled on for another hour or so, by the time he had just about finished people were starting to come to the mess hall for lunch. He apologized for taking up so much of my time; placed the sketch on the table before walking out of the mess hall saying that he didn’t need that sketch anymore and if I had any more questions to find him.

As the pace of people coming in for lunch started to increase familiar faces started to appear, various people I had met over the night; before long a second party had formed around me. Cheerful as it was it was not my intention to spend all day in the mess hall. As more people became aware of my presence people soon began coming into the mess hall with various gifts, more were things my father had given them years before. Things like books, manuals and various odds and ends, the room fell quiet as one of the elders walked in. At they approached my table the tension grew, they stop to pull out a wrapped gifted out of their robe pocket. The room erupted into cheers and curiosity to what the gift was; as I unwrapped the gift the mess hall grew quiet again. It was a key with a tag attached which read, floor 5 hallway 6 third door from the southern staircase. Most people were confused at the key as a gift, only those close enough to read the tag understood. A few researchers that were in the group had to explain that the door that the key belongs to is in the old housing area for researchers.

As lunch ended people begin to return to work, I was finally about to escape. Carrying all of the gifts I had just received and attempted to find what I’m guessing was once my father’s room. Searching through what myself and my friends called the back hallways I found the room with a simple wooden sign labeled, LAURY.