The Decameron 2.0

Day 9.4 Coincidence - UNTIL WE MEET AGAIN RaeKitano

The odd chain of events Emma found herself in was laughable. Had it not been for the turn in the weather she'd have not found herself stuck where she was enduring the stories of those who shared the bar with her. She had grown weary in her old age and found being surrounded by strangers did not have the same appeal as it did when she was younger. Emma felt she had earned the right to be disagreeable and had not wished to participate in telling of stories.

The smell of rain in the air, dust on the concrete floor and stale beer filled their lungs. The humidity in the air was stifling as fans whirled above bringing little relief. After the previous story the jovial banter grew louder and Emma felt the time was right to tell her story.

"Hark," Emma pronounced over the banter around her. When it drew noone's attention but the bartender, who shrugged, Emma barked louder."Hark. For I too have a story to tell."

The room went silent with stares from absurdity to bewilderment directed toward Emma.

The tales thus far had been amusing. Now Emma wanted to set the scene for her story and to achieve that she needed their undivided attention. Which had until that point been difficult to achieve. With their attention now on her, Emma sat herself tall upon the rickety bar stool, cleared her throat and dropped the forced smile from her face. She averted her eyes before glancing past those gathered, lost in the past, as her sombre voice rang out around the silent listeners.

It began in 1986 on a warm sunny summer's afternoon in Adelaide. I was a fine young woman of twenty; very dapper dressed in cream linen pants and white crisp shirt. I wore my father's workman's boots. He had recently passed and to help me through my grief I had come to realise these boots weren't that difficult to fill. They were the kind that could take any treatment. My father loved those boots and when they were on my feet I was remind of the strong determined character of my father and I knew I wanted to shape my life in much the same way. I wore my pants tucked into the boots, to display their presence on my feet. Alone and ready to experience the world; I was on my way to achieve my dream of being a travel writer.

I walked with airs and grace. My brown hair cut short, my shoulders back proudly – I owned the world and the world did stare in wonder. Some disapproved of my manner of dress but I didn't care for their opinion. I had dreams and plans and no one was going to stand in my way.

This particular afternoon I was walking down a street known for its popular cafés and restaurants. I attended a meeting with a magazine editor who was keen to have me on board. The work was a small step in the right direction and after an agreement had been made – I found myself gainfully employed. The swagger in my step and the smile on my face spoke volumes. I never thought I could be as happy as I was at that moment.

As I made my way across the road a rather interesting turn of events occurred. When I reached the other side and went to step onto the footpath my boot caught the lip of the curb and I stumbled and almost fell. If not for theolder woman, dining at the café right in front of me, who knew at that moment I would trip. She was at my side before I hit the ground, pulling me up with care.

"Lucky I caught you." Her voice was mature and the kind that spoke volumes of character. She helped me to stand, and smiling,she continued, "I see it all time. This curb here is one inch higher in front of the café. I don't know why but I always try to catch those who misjudge it when I'm here."

"It happens often then?" I enquired, straightening my clothes before looking at her face. Bronze through years of seeing the sun, laughter lines around her eyes, she had an appearance of mischief and wisdom.

"Often, yes. Guaranteed there will be someone who needs assistance."

"Perhaps a sign should be put up or the curb painted to warn people."