20 — Looking Onward
The last day in my apartment had come sooner than I had expected. I had forgotten that it was rented under the name Daelus, a person who technically no longer existed.
Legally
, he was dead.
Much like Daelus' estate and the museum, the delegation had my old place torn asunder by police entourage. Were they even looking for something, or did they just enjoy destroying things? Anything that may have been of use to them had been hidden safely away. There would be nothing out of the ordinary.
At the same time, Johnathan had worked quickly to invent and plant an identity for myself so that no suspicions would be raised.
I opted not to invent a full name for the paperwork. I was simply Sheam. I became an orphan, parents unknown, cast about between orphanage to foster home, and occasionally a homeless runaway. Records would be muddled with inconsistencies and misspellings, convincing enough to look legitimate, but always leading to dead ends in the off chance a delegation detective did take an interest in me.
The fiction continued. Before I had worked for Daelus I was employed at a bar. Johnathan was close friends with a pair who owned and operated a cantina. They were happy to go along with the story. I had worked there for ten years according to my paperwork — it became a job I had held ever since I was fifteen. I even did a few shifts there so I'd be able to act familiar with the place and the work if I was ever asked about it.
We even briefly discussed my staying there. It wasn't an
un
pleasant job, but I had trouble keeping up the pace and found it difficult to remember customers' orders in the loud, chaotic environment. They weren’t understaffed so it would be fine if I was a bit slow and clumsy,
and
they were open to doing us a favor, but ultimately I wasn’t a good fit.
And so, we went with Johnathan's first inspiration for my employment; assisting a clothing merchant.
The interview had been brief — the employer turned out to be crass and self-obsessed. During the talk he referred to my time at the cantina as
wenching
, and seemed relieved when I told him I could read.
A good education can put you in the right place for the right man to find you
, seemed to be the prevailing sentiment. He considered himself quite ahead of his time in that regard.
He then became skeptical when he learned that I didn't know how to sew, or make clothing alterations.
It was women's work
, he reasoned. Hadn't my mother taught me better? The story of the orphanage quieted him for a moment.
In the end I did get the job, and was offered training. He has stated that I was
pretty enough
and that the customers
would like that.
He then clarified, emphatically after seeing the look on my face, that the clientele would
mostly
be women, and that they simply would be more at ease with a
comely girl
attending to them. He promised to chase off any lecherous men, insisting that he was old fashioned, and protective.
A happy employee is a productive employee
, was a phase he repeated several times.
It took all of my power to simply smile and not get into an argument with him. I needed the job.
I would greet customers, make them tea or coffee, take measurements, do the alterations, file paperwork into cabinets, and tidy up for the night. It wasn't enjoyable work, but I found that I was good enough at all of it to keep the merchant from protesting too loudly about my often glum attitude and lack of enthusiasm. There was even talk of me running the shop entirely on his days off.
Weeks turned into months, with this new normal ossifying. I began to wonder, as my time as Daelus faded into the past, would this be
it
? Was this simply my life now?
In time I could no longer deny it. I wasn't content with the future I felt was ahead of me. I had made a huge change, but now found myself sleepwalking through life.
I realized I was desperate for something else, something
new
.
end part 1