The Discovery

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Literary Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
When a girl goes second hand shopping with her father, she finds an unexpected portal to her future.

Submitted: August 02, 2017

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Submitted: August 02, 2017

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The Discovery

 

I remember the greeting cards the most. An inner part of an outer person’s life. They set there among the many articles, clippings and press coverage, announcing the everydayness of this, not so everyday life. Reminding me that this person this flightless songbird was tethered in a way to this earth just like everyone else.  I guess you could call this the beginnings of my career, the birth of my interest in the glitz of Hollywood. Not Hollywood as we know it, but as it was back in the starlet days of the 1930s and 40s.

It was at an old antique shop, probably one of my father was bargaining for a lot for his own little hideaway second hand shop. I often traveled with him when school was out in the summer. I don’t remember much else except the scrapbook, the names of the card signers I would not recognize until later. Until I tuned into the conversation and realized that scrapbook, was only one piece of the Joan Wetherby package. I didn’t even know who this Joan Weatherby actress was. Yet that didn’t matter. Her boxes were my boxes now. In some ways maybe her life, her  glitz and glamour shone into the dullness of my life in the secondhand part of the city where we lived.

  It felt like a long way home even though the drive itself could have not been more than an hour. I held my scrapbook, my treasure, tightly in my lap, wondering about the rest of my treasure now tucked snugly in the back of the station wagon with everything else.

Once back to our little apartment my father and I dragged my treasure to my room.My father was the ultimate collector, always encouraged my collecting ways with a smile of acknowledgement.  As ifdf he was seeing a part of himself in me.I stared at the box and the trunk, like two pieces a birthday cake that had come along with the cards and scrapbook, trying to decide which to open first.

I creaked the trunk lid open and faded, creased, silk and taffeta peeked out. I gasped with wonder at the beauty and feel of a bygone era. The came along with them. Hurrying to my closet for coat hangers, dresses of beauty soon hung next to my summer jeans and beat up T-shirts. I thought of the places these gowns had been as I took out the last one. 

It was then that I heard the solid thud. A golden beacon announced its presence at the bottom of the trunk.  Uncovered after years of being hidden, an Oscar still shining bright, after generations of time machine like conveyance.

It was then, at that time, at that moment, that the statues past, beckoned me into my future. It was then as I put the statue carefully on my bookshelf in that one moment that I became an actress.


© Copyright 2017 Carla Charter. All rights reserved.

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