Before Yesterday

The air was refreshingly cool, and Sophie decided this was the best time to rest under the fig tree, which stood proudly at the center of the park. 

Families and couples arrived some minutes after the sunset, and they sprayed mats on the grass or lounged on the benches that the park provided.

Sophie watched the kids squeal and giggle as they ran around each other. The parents were engrossed in their discussions, and once or twice she heard them laugh at something someone was saying.

The park was a quiet place during the day, and it was here that Sophie spent most of her time, and the rest of it she spent behind the oven doing what she loved most.

She turned her face up to the sky, allowing the cool breeze to romance her face and play with her long hair. She felt at ease with life; it was like the world paused and all her worries were gone.

Her notebook, her only companion, rested on her lap, together with her notepad. She had gotten the notebook about twelve years ago, immediately after the incident with her uncle, which she dared not think about. The notebook was more of a journal and diary since she carried the book around,using it as a channel to pour out her thoughts, frustrations, anxiety, and pains.

Although life had not been a bed of roses for her, Sophie tried to survive in it. She knew firsthand the cruelty of life and men, but she was not willing to give up. That was why she had saved up and opened the shop; with the little earnings she made, she was able to rent an apartment for herself and move out of her aunt’s and uncle’s house.

A couple passed by where she sat, murmuring their greetings at her, and Sophie responded with a nod of the head. The sun had finally disappeared from the sky, and she could notice a handful of stars scattered about in the sky.

She stood from where she had been sitting. It was time to go.

The walk from the park to her shop was quite short, and it did not take long before she arrived at the front door.

The shop was sandwiched between a restaurant and a laundromat, and opposite them was a small jewelry and pawn store whose owner looked more shady than the business that went on inside.

Sophie stood for a minute, gazing at the shop and running through the memories that had brought her here. She could clearly remember her aunt’s words to her as she wrote that she had gotten a shop with her savings.

“A shop?” her aunt had asked incredulously. Her eyes had appraised Sophie, and her lips curled into something that might have been a smile, save for the look on her face.

“Yes.” Sophie had written in her notepad and cleaned it once she saw that her aunt had seen it.

Sophie was speech impaired, which means she could not communicate properly, but she had never bothered to learn the basic sign language for communication, and with valid reasons; her aunt and uncle, whom she had the most communication with, would never go through the stress of learning the language for her, and she could not afford it. Not when she was saving for the shop.

“I have been taking catering classes. I think I’m ready to try it out; it’s what I like to do.” Sophie wrote.

Her aunt took one quick glance at it and burst out laughing. Her head flew back, and her hand held her stomach. She laughed as much as she liked. Once she had laughed to her satisfaction, she looked Sophie in the eyes and told her how ridiculous the idea sounded.

“You’re mute, Sophie. Say you are going to start this business now. How do you intend to communicate with your customers? Mhmm? Go on, tell me. because no one can hear a mute girl speak. Not to deter you, my darling, but you can try something different.”

But Sophie would not easily be deterred; she had straightened her back, squared her shoulders, looked her aunt in the eyes, and wrote that she was doing this, with or without her permission.

Three months later, Sophie had rented her own apartment and moved out. Her aunt had not believed it and still finds it hard to believe to this day.

A loud horn from a passing car woke Sophie from her reverie, and she sighed. She had come a long way since that day. She had faced the storm, met with a lot of hurdles, and thought about giving up so many times, but still, she always found herself back here. Somehow, she had been able to convince herself that this was all she had and that it was all she worked for.

She made her way into the shop and was immediately greeted by Rhys, her assistant and receptionist.

“Welcome, Sophie.” He said it without looking up. “How did your walk go?”

She gave him a thumbs up, and a smile crept to his face. Sophie always wondered how he did it and how he knew her response when he could not hear her voice, and he was obviously concentrating on something else.

Rhys always said he could hear her in his head, and that was why he could tell what she was signing or writing even when he was not looking. Sophie always called his bluff.

Sophie began to walk away; she had a few things to bake before they finally retired home for the day.

“Uhhh, before you go,” Rhys called. His head was underneath his desk, and Sophie could hear the clangs and bangs of pans as he searched for something. His head came back up shortly after, and he shook his head once more in an effort to move his long bangs from his eyes. It was futile.  

She sighed, stretching her hand. She moved the bangs from his face to behind his ear.

Rhys handed her a letter. “It came from the agency while you were away. You might want to go through it.”