A Quarter Life

The Manuscript

The book had a variant smell. The smell was potent. The odor, the ancient fragrance was hard to describe. Old rotten book had some unmistakable smell, he knew. But this one, the smell was nothing of his knowledge.

She said, looking at the box, 'Grandpa told me, when I was young, to hand over the box to anyone related to Reeve. This was Reeve's belongings.'

He took a sip of Bourbon, 'And, the book?'

She laughed, 'Oh no, that was written by grandpa. But he said to give it also. I once told him to publish it. He then made me promise two things.'

He was curious, 'What were the promises?'

She sighed, 'To never tell anyone that this book existed, and to never read it.'

He was surprised, 'So, you took an oath to hide a book from the world without even reading it?'

She grinned, 'Mr. Reeve, we 'McCourt's are very serious with promises. It’s in our bloodline. You can call it funny, but to keep a promise, dying is a petty thing for us.'

He said, 'I am respectful to your bloodline, and grateful too. Thank you, thank you very much for keeping these safe.'

She nodded, 'You're welcome. I always consider it as a debt. Grandpa was indebted to grandpa Reeve, for his life. Handing over these to you will be my side of repaying debt.'

She came to the gate, to bid goodbye. They shook hands, he said, 'Thank you again, I can't express how grateful I am.'

She laughed, 'Don’t be. Feel free to visit anytime. The foamy Bourbon was too good.'

She leaned towards him, and kissed him on the cheek.

They got on the car, he drove for like half an hour, then he stopped the car in the sideways.

He asked, 'Hey Janet, do you mind driving for the rest?'

She was quite angry, and upset, 'Why? You feeling kinky just after a kiss on the cheek?'

He laughed, 'Are you serious? I just wanna read the book, that's all.'

She was fuming, 'Yeah, right, whatever. Who am I to say anything? Just a secretary.'

He got on the back seat. He looked at her. This girl, she deserved to get everything he owned. She was the one, for him. He wished, he could have jumped at the front seat, kissed her on the lips, express his feelings to her. But, he couldn’t bring her more sadness, more pain in her life. She suffered a lot in her own life. She didn’t deserve to suffer on behalf of him.

He leaned his head on the seat, and opened the book.

It wasn’t a book exactly, it was a manuscript. The handwriting of Charles was worth praising.

The total manuscript wasn't divided into any chapters or verses, it was one total story.

It started like a disclaimer:

“I know, when you will get the this manuscript, me or Reeve, no one will be in this world. But yeah, basically he was a war hero. His ideas were very much optimistic. But they couldn’t give him proper respect. Instead, they called him a traitor. So, this manuscript was just for you, to know that your ancestor wasn't any traitor. He was a true patriot.'

'I met Reeve, in mid 1939. I was working as a laborer, in the Morrison industrial factory. They gave me 15 cents a day. I was quite happy. I was married, but without any child. I was an energetic young guy, with a lousy brain, but with a clean intention, to feed my wife.

The problem started in July, maybe. That Morrison bastard, he thought only about the wealthy people, like him. We, the laborers, worked for him. And what did he do for us? Reduced our wages to 10 cents a day.

We weren't happy about that. We never wanted more wages, we just wanted the same wages, but the physical pain was far more. For example, my job was to carry some delivery boxes to the delivery cars. But the drivers were too nasty. They would intentionally park the cars far away to make us their donkeys.

So, when the authority cut off from our wages, some of us couldn’t take this. We had a family to feed, legacy to rebuild.

We revolted, against them. We locked the main gate from outside. We had a clear sayings, 'If our family can't eat because of you, your family shouldn’t eat because of us'. I don’t know who made that slogan, but we were serious about it. But you know, one can't win a war with empty stomach. So, they had power, they had money. They hired cops. And these New York cops, I tell you, are barbaric. They came to move us, you know, with pistols, firing decoy bullets.

We, the laborers, couldn’t risk our health for these things. Our health, our strength was the source of income for our family.

So, we started running indiscriminately. I also, without caring about the slogan, ran to the full of my breath. We all were desperate, desperate to save our lives.

A desperate laborer, like me, suddenly stepped on my foot while running. I couldn’t balance my weight, and fell on the ground.

I couldn’t see anything. I was covered by thousands of desperate feet.

But amidst those desperate feet, I saw a hand, a not so desperate hand, a hand reaching to me, to pull me.

I didn’t think much more, I grabbed that hand, and pulled myself up.

That is when I saw him, he was a bold guy. I could say by the looks. The eyes, they were fearless, for his own.

He pulled me up and said, 'Aye mate, it would be such a disgrace to die by the innocent kicks of your fellas. Gear up and run.'

Saying, he started running away. I followed him. Following him, I asked, 'Hey there, I am Charles McCourt, can I know your name?'

Running, he said, 'My fella Charles, now isn’t the happiest time to introduce and rejoice, save it up for later.'

I didn’t get that, of course I was not nearly smart.

I ran with them, with him. Suddenly we all stopped. I stopped by seeing everybody still. I couldn’t guess what is happening.

I asked him, 'Hey, what's happened?'

He said quietly, 'They need a distraction.'

I didn’t get that either, 'A what?'

He didn’t listen. He started going out of the group, in the front. I followed him to the front.

He went to the front and said, 'Hey motherfuckers, whassup?'

The York cops didn’t take that lightly. One cop loaded up his pistol and said, 'Who said that?'

He went up to that cop, held the barrel, aimed it to his own nose, 'Oh, you wanna play bad? Fire up. Fire up the decoys, bitches.'

The cop didn’t like it. He fired the pistol. The decoy bullet pierced the side of his nose, leaving a heinous scar beneath his eyes. The bleeding cared, but he didn’t. He started laughing, still holding the barrel. Other cops didn’t find it funny. They all grabbed him, he kept laughing and moving.

Every single laborer ran away seeing this opportunity. I stood there, I saw him, standing there alone, making a distraction for everyone, still laughing from heart. I saw him, I kept seeing him, they captured me, handcuffed me, took me to jail with him, still I felt nothing. I saw him, laughing.

I tried to laugh like him, couldn’t find the laughter in my mind, in my heart. I was in jail, but my pleasure, I was in jail, with him to accompany me.”