Expenses

We had to write a short story last year... this short story got slightly out of hand, it developed a mind of its own. I still need to expand it. But this is the original story I handed in.

Expenses

 

They never listened. Why I let my subconscious let me down each time I spoke to them, hoping for them to listen to a word I said, I don’t think I’ll ever understand. I picked up my skirts as I walked away from the drawing room, the room I despised, and the parents that wouldn’t even listen to what I wanted. I held my head high as any young woman of my class would after she was humiliated in front of the servants. I couldn’t believe that my parents would stoop to that. They were usually so careful to keep the family’s private affairs from the nosy servants’ ears. As I walked past one of our maids, she blushed from the embarrassment of what she knew, and retreated back to the safety of the kitchen.                                          

Tears threatened to make themselves known at the corners of my eyes. I hastily brushed the foul deceivers of my pain away before more dared to release themselves. I sighed in relief as I reached the safety of my boudoir and closed the door behind me with nothing more than a dull thud. I walked to my vanity and sat down on the chair and looked at my reflection. I briefly wondered if Joan still had a vanity at all. The Crash had taken everything from her family. Her father was drowning in debt and couldn’t even afford to accommodate his wife and Joan and her sister Margaret, with the extravagant lifestyle that they were accustomed to. At last I allowed myself to weep for the loss of my friend’s life. For what life could she now lead that was worth living? She couldn’t very well afford to purchase the dresses and jewels that society young women could anymore. I wondered what that was like for Joan…to one day be one of the richest young women in Manhattan, and the next on the verge of declaring bankruptcy.   I was grateful that my father had stubbornly refused to put any of our money in the Stock Market. “It’s not reliable.” He had told me when I had asked him why, a mere five months ago. Because of my father not investing, he hadn’t lost any money in the Crash itself. Though unfortunately, that didn’t stop the Crash from affecting us. We had lost some money. But not a significant amount that we would’ve actually noticed very much. It was only a few wardrobes worth, which meant that my mother and I had to go without new Spring formal wear for this year, but we would survive. Neither my mother nor I ever really saw the sense of wearing a dress only once, and then deeming it un-wearable, from then on after.    

I still didn’t understand why my parents wouldn’t let me pay out of my allowance for some of Joan’s own personal expenses that she couldn’t pay at the moment. It didn’t seem fair to me. It was my money, oh sure my parents gave it to me, but that was it! They gave it to me to spend it how I wanted. And I wanted to help my friend with her unpaid expenses! I wanted to buy back some of her belongings at the very least. Oh how Joan missed her sapphire necklaces! “Oh Ashley,” she confided in me last month. “What am I to do without my sapphires? My grandmother gave them to me, and here I go and pawn them off for Father! Oh how she must be turning in her grave at this moment!”                                

It was terrible to see once wealthy families having to sell their estates for a fraction of what they were worth, just to stay alive. My mother’s own cousin Henry had to do that very thing, and he and his family were now living with us in our manor. I didn’t mind much, Henry and his children Patricia and Richard were my kin and very much like me. But it was his awful wife Lily that I hated.                       

As the anger steadily grew in my stomach at the unfairness of the situation that Joan faced, a plan was being born in my head. What right did my mother and father have to deny me this one request? All I wanted was to help my friend in her time of need. It was really no different than my mother taking in her cousin! Where did they get off saying that it was “Improper and common” to aid one who’s social reputation was crumbling? I frowned to myself as my plan was becoming clearer and clearer in my head. I feared that I didn’t have an inkling of an idea about the risk of what I now proposed to myself.                       “There’s no other way.” I reassured myself aloud. I rubbed my temples and sighed. Is this what I really wanted? Did I want to actually buy Joan’s sapphires back, from the Lord Himself only knew who? I didn’t even know where to start looking. The jewels could be in London by now, depending on who Joan sold them to!                                     

“That’s it!” I whispered to myself. I would have to ask Joan herself to whom she had sold her sapphires to. Though I would have to ask discreetly, for if Joan guessed at what I was going to do, she would never allow it. Joan’s pride of not accepting help from anyone would make her unwilling to tell me to whom she sold her beloved sapphires.                 

I quickly wrapped myself in my best mink coat, and left the sanctity of my boudoir. As I made my way through the manor, nine-year-old Patricia took it into her head to follow me. I was inwardly amused that she was matching my footsteps exactly, and she was attempting to imitate my perfect posture, and elevated chin. Eventually she grew tired of the sport and ran off with nothing more than a hasty “Good bye, Cousin Ashley, I hope your outing is pleasant!”            When I finally reached the door, I made a small cough in order to attract the attention of the dozing doorman.                                                             “Wh-Wha?” he grumbled as he awoke. “Ah, yes Miss Ashley! So sorry, I was merely resting my eyes! Oh yes of course, the door! Of course you would want me to open it for you! That is my job of course!”                                                         

“Yes. It is indeed.” I coldly replied. I was annoyed at the fact that this doorman always took it upon himself to bore me to death with his chatter. “If my parents inquire about my whereabouts,” I said with a yawn threatening to escape me, “kindly inform them that I have gone to call on Miss Joan Somers. And if they also inquire about when I expect to return, tell them that I will be back at promptly eight O’ clock.”                                    

With that, I pushed past the irritating doorman and made my way into the concrete jungle that was none other than Manhattan.

 

When I entered the residence of the formerly most esteemed family of Somers, I was shocked that it was not a doorman who opened the door, but it was none other than Joan’s own personal maid herself. As Joan’s maid escorted me to the sitting room for tea, I was appalled at how bare Joan’s house was. It seemed as if every time I came to call on her, more of her family’s possessions were gone.   

Arriving at the sitting room, I was pleased that Joan was already seated there in her favorite chair by the fire. I was also pleased that my tea was already served beside my own chair. Joan dismissed her maid with a simple wave of her hand, and invited me to sit.      

 “To what do I owe the pleasure of your presence?” Joan asked lightly, sipping from her cup.                                                           

“Does an old friend need a reason?” I joked.                                       

“Indeed,” she assented, “an old friend does not. But knowing you my dear Ashley, the grace of your hastily announced company always contains a reason.”                         

I was slightly hurt by the undercurrent of insult beneath her honeyed words. I feared that there was a chasm growing between us, as my social status increased while Joan’s was falling at a steady rate. Tactfully not acknowledging the insult, I cheeringly teased Joan when I said, “Ah, yes of course, as always you see right through my façade! I do have a reason for calling on you at this untimely hour of six O clock.”                                       

Joan smirked at me with what she did not know was false triumph.

“And what might you be hiding, Miss Michaels?”                     “Oh,” I sighed, playing the part of a distraught friend. “I am only hiding a tactic at which I might use to purchase some pearls…Though honorable I fear it is not.”                                   

“Hmm. I wonder what you’re playing at Ashley.” Joan muttered, leaning towards me. Her green eyes were bright with anticipation of good gossip. “Is one of the most eligible young women in the country going to make a purchase from an unbecoming person?”                                 

“You are right of course. Yet again! I am going to buy myself some pearls from a ‘street merchant’ for lack of a better word, and I need your help. I don’t know how to go about buying pearls at half the price they should be, on account of them being stolen. I was wondering if you would tell me to whom you sold your sapphires to, and where I could meet this um, gentleman.”                                I was momentarily frightened at the ferocity that shadowed Joan’s normally jubilant face. But she regained her composure and spoke. “Now then Ashley, you know you could’ve just sent a message asking me that! I would’ve written back at once with an answer! But of course you couldn’t know that I wouldn’t be able to let his name pass my lips. Oh don’t even dare ask why Ashley! I can only give you his name and where you can contact him. But listen to me; you must dress in the attire of a servant girl if you want to save any money at all. This man will not sell any pearls to you for a small price if he knows of your wealth and stature.”                                  As I listened to Joan’s speech she had wrung for her maid, for what I did not know. But the answer to that mystery was soon given when Joan asked for a pen, paper, wax, ink, and an envelope.

 

When I finally returned to my boudoir, I looked at the letter that Joan gave me. I was puzzled when she sealed the letter with wax. She would only say that I must open the letter when I was alone, should anyone see it and go there. She also told me that I must burn it after I memorized it. Curiously, I broke the seal as I settled myself on my bed. I was disappointed to see that it only had a name and address. The name of the man that I had to meet to buy back Joan’s sapphire necklaces, was Mr. Skinner. I wondered who this Mr. Skinner was for a moment before I memorized the address. I was annoyed that it was in the meat packing district, and that I would be surrounded by immense filth. I was also terrified because the location of Mr. Skinner’s ‘business’ confirmed that he was indeed a criminal, perhaps a gangster. I feared what I would face the following morning. The letter memorized, I threw it into the blazing hearth and went to sleep. I knowing that I would need my rest.                                      

The following morning, after I had stolen one of the maid’s dresses shawls, I was at the address where I would soon meet Mr. Skinner. I shivered in the thin shawl; I made a mental note to myself to buy a better one on my way back home for this particular maid, Brenda I thought.

I gasped as a tall figure made himself known. He was an ugly man with a dreadful scar on the side of his face. He didn’t waste time on small talk and went right to the point.

“You’re here to see Mr. Skinner I expect? Aye? Well then follow me. Mr. Skinner will be expecting you to give your name and what you wish to buy as soon as he asks you. There will be no bartering, and you will pay what he tells you to. Right then here he is.”                                           I had been hastily ushered into a semi dark room that smelled of decaying flesh, and rotting wood. I scrunched my nose as my ‘escort’ motioned to me that I was to sit across from the man in the shadows. As I made my way to my seat I noticed that Mr. Skinner was wearing an expensive suit, and had a gold watch, along with several gold rings on his emaciated fingers.                               “Name and state of business.” Mr. Skinner demanded.                                                      

“Elizabeth Selden. I wish to buy two sapphire necklaces that I heard that you recently purchased from a young woman.” I had decided to use an alias so there would be no chance that the purchase could be traced back to me.                         

“Well Miss Selden, you are in luck. I have not sold those necklaces yet. Here is my price.” Mr. Skinner passed me a piece of paper with a ridiculously high price on it. However I was prepared for it and had twice that sum in my pocket. I counted out the money and passed it to Mr. Skinner. He did not bother counting it. He smirked as he explained that his clients would not dare to swindle him of his money.                               

I was relieved to see that the necklaces were indeed Joan’s and I greedily took them from their package and stuffed them into the safety of my bag. I rose from my chair, thanked Mr. Skinner, and raced away from that awful place faster than my legs could carry me.                                                           As I walked away keeping a pace that wouldn’t shame my dignity, I rubbed the sapphire necklaces as if they were a worry stone. I nervously bit my lip as I came out of criminal territory that even the police hesitated to enter. The illegal sell of alcohol made gangsters rich and powerful. I was happy to be leaving the place where organized crime thrived. But mostly I was glad that I achieved what I had set out to do, and I smiled at myself as I hailed a cabbie driver. I was going to go buy a shawl for Brenda before I went to pay another unannounced visit to Joan.

 

 

 

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

You are a amazing writer. The story was powerful and well written. You led me into the story with excellent description of the characters. Discussed the Depression and told how each person did the right or wrong things. I believe hard times affect the rich more then the poor. Poor have less distance to fall. Story is outstanding. I look forward to reading more.
Coyote