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DIFFERENT EXISTENCES
THE OPAL STORIES by Crystal Jones ©
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THE OPAL STORIES
Different Existences

by Crystal Jones
© 2012

“Wonder if I can ask you a favour, Opal?” asked Ross, the ex SAS red-haired friend who had a stall at the market in front of hers.
“Sure, tell me,” said Opal putting down her sketchbook for a moment on a slack day for the market.
“I’ve got to go to the hospital for a check-up at nine," said Ross. “As it’s just a routine thing I’m sure I’ll be away for no longer than a couple of hours - probably only an hour or so. If you could keep an eye on my stall - if not, I’ll pack everything away now and leave it all in the car.”
“No problem at all - but you must give me a rough idea how much you want for your records if someone wants to buy one!” replied Opal.

Nobody was buying much that rather grey and rainy-looking morning and the owners of the stalls were moaning about not even getting their costs back.
“Excuse me, but I believe you’re Josh’s mother?” asked a pleasant-looking woman of thirty something.
“Yes, have we met...?” replied Opal.
“No, we haven’t, but I saw you last Saturday at the football match where your son’s team won. My son Owen meets your boy Josh quite often at these matches.”
“Oh, so your boy goes to St. Anthony’s?” remarked Opal.
“Yes, it’s very near home and seems to be quite a good school, especially the parent/teacher relationship. The only thing is, I don’t have much time to go to the parents and teachers meetings as I work long hours all week. Luckily my sister goes to them for me. By the way, my name’s Irene.”
Opal and Irene continued chatting quite a while when Steve, the food stall owner, came by taking orders from the stall-holders for coffee and tea and bacon and egg rolls and other things.
“I’m dying for some coffee, Irene. Will you have one too?” asked Opal. “Look, I’ll get a chair for you from my friend’s stall here in front. He isn’t here at the moment because he’s gone off for an appointment, so he won’t need it yet. I’ve got some Garibaldi’s with me,” said Opal pulling out a packet of biscuits.


“So you haven’t got much free time...?” prompted Opal.
“You can say that again! I’m a solicitor and spend my time with troubled minors in disfunctional families who are in trouble with the police, and so on. It seems like a losing battle sometimes - but now and again I manage to work something out and good comes of it!”
“That’s marvellous, Irene. You do a job which must be very taxing.”
“Yes, but I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Irene looked thoughtful, “except that I always feel guilty about not being at home for Owen until late. Luckily I’ve got such a wonderful sister who looks after him when I’m not there. She lives near us and has three children of her own.” She sighed, “You see, I’m a single mother.”

That night Opal was having a chat with her husband. “You know, Bren, I met such a nice person today - Irene. She’s a solicitor who, in connection with social workers, helps minors in trouble and she’s the mother of a boy of Josh’s age - she’s brought him up all by herself!”
“All by herself! I bet that was tough. She has to be a completely dedicated and single-minded person at work, and a totally different person at home. Two different and separate existences!”
“Different existences... that’s worth a thought!” Opal commented.

Up in her studio, Opal was working at her new concept. She had painted a room in black, white and silver whose walls were enshrouded with numerous full-length mirrors. A woman was standing in the middle of the room. Her blanched face was reflected in all these mirrors but in each one she had a completely different expression as though she were a different person. Her reflection in each mirror expressed the multiple facets and moments of her life, one intensive and serious to the point of exaggeration, another showing a total submission of herself, and yet another, lost, mysterious and unknown. But something was still missing and Opal couldn’t pinpoint what it was.

“Opal,” it was Irene speaking over the phone. “Owen is twelve on Sunday and having a small party. Would you like to pop over with Josh - around four o’clock? We could have a quiet cup of tea in the kitchen and a chat.”
“Thanks, I’d love to, but it’s a bit awkward. I have a car boot sale until about that time. Look, I could send Josh over first and come round later myself about five o’clock!”

The next Sunday, Opal turned up a bit late to Owen’s birthday party. “Sorry, Irene, but I couldn't manage any earlier. Oh, they seem to be enjoying themselves!” said Opal seeing the children shouting and screaming and grabbing soft drinks and birthday cake. “I recognise your son Owen. Yes, I remember seeing him play football!”
As Opal munched her cake she took a good look at Owen who seemed little like his dark-haired mother. His ginger hair was cut very short and he was already taller than her.
“Of course, it’s tough on Owen that he hasn’t got a father,” murmured Irene, “but my brother-in-law has always made a lot of fuss of him.”
“I always think that if a child has one parent who loves him, he is already lucky!" remarked Opal.
“I suppose so, but I still feel bad about his not having a father. You see, he disappeared from my life before even knowing I was pregnant,” Irene said softly, showing the fact still hurt.
She continued telling her story, “I’ve only got my sister Amy. We were put into care when I was eight and she was fourteen. Later on we lived together until she met her future husband. She got married to him and moved up here as her husband had been promoted - he’s a fireman.”
They were interrupted by Owen rushing into the kitchen to inquire if there was any more chocolate cake.
Once Irene’s son had gone back into the sitting room she continued, “I was studying law and lived in a flat with a couple of young students. One day a young man came into the burger bar where I worked so as to pay my way, and well, to cut a long story short, we fell in love - or so I thought. Suddenly after about a week he said he had to go away for a while but would contact me as soon as he could. Unfortunately I never heard from him again. Soon I found out I was pregnant and Amy persuaded me I should move up and stay with her so she could look after me. Later on I managed to get a council flat which was near where she lived. I got a trainee solicitor’s job and Amy looked after Owen during the day. I’ll never be able to repay her for what she’s done for me!”
That night Opal had a dream about women looking confused and not knowing why. They were searching, searching for something that eluded them.

“Opal, I’ve found a better flat,” announced Ross triumphantly one morning at the market. “All I’ve got to do is to whitewash it and buy a few bits of furniture - I’m quite good at DIY - and I’m all set to move in!"
“That’s wonderful,” praised Opal. “Oh... you’ve had your hair cut. You look much better... and younger!”
“You told me the market brought luck - this one certainly has.”
He then turned to a customer who was looking through a box. “You asked me about some Daniel Good records, didn’t you? I’ve put some by for you.”
“Ross,” interrupted Opal. “Don’t be too busy tomorrow ‘cos we’re having a pizza party at five o’clock to celebrate our wedding anniversary. We’ve been married for seventeen years!”
“Congratulations Opal, I’d love to come. Actually I’ve got a job for Brendan driving someone up to Newston-on-Ewe but I should be coming back by about five.”

At half past four Opal’s parents arrived for the party. “Oh Mum, thanks a million!” she replied as her mother gave her a large covered tin.
“It’s an apple pie - I made it myself!” said Opal’s young-looking mother.
“I helped her too, I watched her make it!” joked Opal’s father with a bottle in his hand waving it at Brendan.
Josh and Jane also welcomed their grandparents with a hug. “Oh gran - a big slice’s got my name on it!“ exclaimed Josh.
”There’s also a gorgeous cake in the kitchen Ross has sent us - you know, the ex-soldier who’s got a stall in front of mine in the market. He’ll be arriving soon, and a new friend of mine is also coming - Irene, and her son Owen. Irene’s a solicitor!”

When Irene and Owen arrived, they soon made friends with Opal’s parents and laughed at Opal’s father’s jokes. Josh took Owen upstairs to see his videogames. Jane was very interested to discover that Irene was a solicitor and told her about her ambition to study law. They were soon discussing the legal system and how it works.
Opal beckoned Brendan into the kitchen looking at her watch. “It’s nearly five-thirty Brendan, the pizzas will be arriving soon. Have you heard from Ross?”
“No, but maybe he can’t get through. Ah yes, he’s calling now!” Brendan sat down to take the call. “Oh no! the traffic has been diverted due to a spill on the motorway... he says not to worry about him as long as we save him a slice of cake!”
The afternoon passed quickly and Irene and Owen went away having enjoyed themselves very much.
“Well, the party’s been a great success - pity Ross couldn’t enjoy it to,” said Opal as she and her mother carried plates and glasses into the kitchen.
Just then Ross arrived looking pretty tired. “Congratulations! I’m so sorry I missed meeting your other guests, but it really wasn’t my fault."
“Poor Ross - don’t worry. Come and sit down and meet my parents. I’ve saved you some pizza and cake. I’ll warm the pizza up. What would you like to drink?"

It had come on to rain suddenly and Opal was trying to salvage the books at the front of her stall.
“Hello Opal,” said Irene trying to manage some plastic bags full of vegetables and fruit and holding up a huge umbrella to protect herself. “I’ve just called by to thank you for the other day. It was so nice meeting all of you.”
“Oh, Irene, it was a pleasure. The boys seemed to get on really well together!”
“It must be wonderful having such jolly parents. Your father is so amusing!”
Opal reflected that Irene wouldn’t know what it was like to have a family reunion as she hadn’t grown up with her parents.
“He has his moments!” replied Opal. “Look, don’t stand there getting drenched. Come and sit inside for a minute while I finish doing this!” Opal pulled at the tarpaulin covering her stall and almost gave herself a shower by mistake.
“You see the tall chap in front trying to rescue his records - he’s the friend who couldn’t get to the party...”
Opal stopped in her tracks. Irene was sitting completely still, looking straight in front of her. She was staring at Ross.
Then in a flash Opal understood. The red hair - Owen was a tall boy with the same red hair!
Ross, who was having difficulty in putting a heavy box away in his car, suddenly turned around as though he could feel someone was watching him. He looked towards Opal’s stall still holding the box in the pouring rain and finally seemed to pronounce the word, “Irene!" which couldn’t be heard through the violent rainfall.
He simply put the box down again and walked ghost-like towards Opal’s stall uncaring that his clothes were becoming sodden. When he reached the stall he stood completely inert just staring at Irene. Opal remained where she was and watched.
He then walked around the stall and knelt silently at Irene’s side. Now Ross seemed to wake up from an age-old sleep and reached for his wallet. From inside he drew out a photograph in a plastic container. It was of them both. A very joyful younger Irene with longer loose hair and a Ross who couldn’t have looked happier. Irene stared at the photograph for a moment and then opened her bag and reached for her purse. She unbuttoned it, withdrew a photo of her red-headed son Owen and held it up for Ross to see. By now both of them had tears in their eyes and reached out to embrace each other.

That evening Opal stayed up with Brendan sitting hand in hand narrating this extraordinary tale. “We’d never seen the terrible scar on the back of Ross’s head because of his long unkempt hair. He’d been injured during his SAS services and was in a coma for some time. Afterwards he was in such a confused state of mind that he couldn’t find Irene’s address any more. When he was finally discharged, he was still a wreck. He went to her old flat where she had stayed with some students, but of course she was no longer living there. Ross was still anything but well and began to think about their relationship and that he could only bring problems to her. So he gave up at this point.”
“Well, are they going to see each other again - is Ross going to meet his son?” asked Brendan.
“I don’t know, but I think there is hope. Irene has understood that Ross didn’t just leave her in the lurch - he was desperately ill and she also realises that Owen should have a relationship with his father. Let’s wait and see!”

Opal stared at her unfinished work. She decided to paint the reflection of the woman in a mirror in the centre of the picture in bright shades of red and orange depicting the burning passion that was within her. “Mm..., I think I’ve got it right now,” said Opal to herself, putting her brush down.

THE END

TRANSLATION TEMPLATE
YOUR LANGUAGE ENGLISH ORIGINAL

Title in in your language

Different Existences

  “Wonder if I can ask you a favour, Opal?” asked Ross, the ex SAS red-haired friend who had a stall at the market in front of hers.
  “Sure, tell me,” said Opal putting down her sketchbook for a moment on a slack day for the market.
“I’ve got to go to the hospital for a check-up at nine," said Ross.
“As it’s just a routine thing I’m sure I’ll be away for no longer than a couple of hours - probably only an hour or so.
If you could keep an eye on my stall - if not, I’ll pack everything away now and leave it all in the car.”
“No problem at all - but you must give me a rough idea how much you want for your records if someone wants to buy one!” replied Opal.
Nobody was buying much that rather grey and rainy-looking morning and the owners of the stalls were moaning about not even getting their costs back.
“Excuse me, but I believe you’re Josh’s mother?” asked a pleasant-looking woman of thirty something.
“Yes, have we met...?” replied Opal.
“No, we haven’t, but I saw you last Saturday at the football match where your son’s team won.
My son Owen meets your boy Josh quite often at these matches.”
“Oh, so your boy goes to St.
Anthony’s?” remarked Opal.
“Yes, it’s very near home and seems to be quite a good school, especially the parent/teacher relationship.
The only thing is, I don’t have much time to go to the parents and teachers meetings as I work long hours all week.
Luckily my sister goes to them for me.
By the way, my name’s Irene.”
Opal and Irene continued chatting quite a while when Steve, the food stall owner, came by taking orders from the stall-holders for coffee and tea and bacon and egg rolls and other things.
“I’m dying for some coffee, Irene.
Will you have one too?” asked Opal.
“Look, I’ll get a chair for you from my friend’s stall here in front.
He isn’t here at the moment because he’s gone off for an appointment, so he won’t need it yet.
I’ve got some Garibaldi’s with me,” said Opal pulling out a packet of biscuits.
“So you haven’t got much free time...?” prompted Opal.
“You can say that again!
I’m a solicitor and spend my time with troubled minors in disfunctional families who are in trouble with the police, and so on.
It seems like a losing battle sometimes - but now and again I manage to work something out and good comes of it!”
“That’s marvellous, Irene.
You do a job which must be very taxing.”
“Yes, but I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Irene looked thoughtful, “except that I always feel guilty about not being at home for Owen until late.
Luckily I’ve got such a wonderful sister who looks after him when I’m not there.
She lives near us and has three children of her own.” She sighed, “You see, I’m a single mother.”
That night Opal was having a chat with her husband.
“You know, Bren, I met such a nice person today - Irene.
She’s a solicitor who, in connection with social workers, helps minors in trouble and she’s the mother of a boy of Josh’s age - she’s brought him up all by herself!”
“All by herself!
I bet that was tough.
She has to be a completely dedicated and single-minded person at work, and a totally different person at home.
Two different and separate existences!”
“Different existences...
that’s worth a thought!” Opal commented.
Up in her studio, Opal was working at her new concept.
She had painted a room in black, white and silver whose walls were enshrouded with numerous full-length mirrors.
A woman was standing in the middle of the room.
Her blanched face was reflected in all these mirrors but in each one she had a completely different expression as though she were a different person.
Her reflection in each mirror expressed the multiple facets and moments of her life, one intensive and serious to the point of exaggeration, another showing a total submission of herself, and yet another, lost, mysterious and unknown.
But something was still missing and Opal couldn’t pinpoint what it was.
“Opal,” it was Irene speaking over the phone.
“Owen is twelve on Sunday and having a small party.
Would you like to pop over with Josh - around four o’clock?
We could have a quiet cup of tea in the kitchen and a chat.”
“Thanks, I’d love to, but it’s a bit awkward.
I have a car boot sale until about that time.
Look, I could send Josh over first and come round later myself about five o’clock!”
The next Sunday, Opal turned up a bit late to Owen’s birthday party.
“Sorry, Irene, but I couldn't manage any earlier.
Oh, they seem to be enjoying themselves!” said Opal seeing the children shouting and screaming and grabbing soft drinks and birthday cake.
“I recognise your son Owen.
Yes, I remember seeing him play football!”
As Opal munched her cake she took a good look at Owen who seemed little like his dark-haired mother.
His ginger hair was cut very short and he was already taller than her.
“Of course, it’s tough on Owen that he hasn’t got a father,” murmured Irene, “but my brother-in-law has always made a lot of fuss of him.”
“I always think that if a child has one parent who loves him, he is already lucky!" remarked Opal.
“I suppose so, but I still feel bad about his not having a father.
You see, he disappeared from my life before even knowing I was pregnant,” Irene said softly, showing the fact still hurt.
She continued telling her story, “I’ve only got my sister Amy.
We were put into care when I was eight and she was fourteen.
Later on we lived together until she met her future husband.
She got married to him and moved up here as her husband had been promoted - he’s a fireman.”
They were interrupted by Owen rushing into the kitchen to inquire if there was any more chocolate cake.
Once Irene’s son had gone back into the sitting room she continued, “I was studying law and lived in a flat with a couple of young students.
One day a young man came into the burger bar where I worked so as to pay my way, and well, to cut a long story short, we fell in love - or so I thought.
Suddenly after about a week he said he had to go away for a while but would contact me as soon as he could.
Unfortunately I never heard from him again.
Soon I found out I was pregnant and Amy persuaded me I should move up and stay with her so she could look after me.
Later on I managed to get a council flat which was near where she lived.
I got a trainee solicitor’s job and Amy looked after Owen during the day.
I’ll never be able to repay her for what she’s done for me!”
That night Opal had a dream about women looking confused and not knowing why.
They were searching, searching for something that eluded them.
“Opal, I’ve found a better flat,” announced Ross triumphantly one morning at the market.
“All I’ve got to do is to whitewash it and buy a few bits of furniture - I’m quite good at DIY - and I’m all set to move in!"
“That’s wonderful,” praised Opal.
“Oh...
you’ve had your hair cut.
You look much better...
and younger!”
“You told me the market brought luck - this one certainly has.”
He then turned to a customer who was looking through a box.
“You asked me about some Daniel Good records, didn’t you?
I’ve put some by for you.”
“Ross,” interrupted Opal.
“Don’t be too busy tomorrow ‘cos we’re having a pizza party at five o’clock to celebrate our wedding anniversary.
We’ve been married for seventeen years!”
“Congratulations Opal, I’d love to come.
Actually I’ve got a job for Brendan driving someone up to Newston-on-Ewe but I should be coming back by about five.”
At half past four Opal’s parents arrived for the party.
“Oh Mum, thanks a million!” she replied as her mother gave her a large covered tin.
“It’s an apple pie - I made it myself!” said Opal’s young-looking mother.
“I helped her too, I watched her make it!” joked Opal’s father with a bottle in his hand waving it at Brendan.
Josh and Jane also welcomed their grandparents with a hug.
“Oh gran - a big slice’s got my name on it!“ exclaimed Josh.
”There’s also a gorgeous cake in the kitchen Ross has sent us - you know, the ex-soldier who’s got a stall in front of mine in the market.
He’ll be arriving soon, and a new friend of mine is also coming - Irene, and her son Owen.
Irene’s a solicitor!”
When Irene and Owen arrived, they soon made friends with Opal’s parents and laughed at Opal’s father’s jokes.
Josh took Owen upstairs to see his videogames.
Jane was very interested to discover that Irene was a solicitor and told her about her ambition to study law.
They were soon discussing the legal system and how it works.
Opal beckoned Brendan into the kitchen looking at her watch.
“It’s nearly five-thirty Brendan, the pizzas will be arriving soon.
Have you heard from Ross?”
“No, but maybe he can’t get through.
Ah yes, he’s calling now!” Brendan sat down to take the call.
“Oh no!
the traffic has been diverted due to a spill on the motorway...
he says not to worry about him as long as we save him a slice of cake!”
The afternoon passed quickly and Irene and Owen went away having enjoyed themselves very much.
“Well, the party’s been a great success - pity Ross couldn’t enjoy it to,” said Opal as she and her mother carried plates and glasses into the kitchen.
Just then Ross arrived looking pretty tired.
“Congratulations!
I’m so sorry I missed meeting your other guests, but it really wasn’t my fault."
“Poor Ross - don’t worry.
Come and sit down and meet my parents.
I’ve saved you some pizza and cake.
I’ll warm the pizza up.
What would you like to drink?"
It had come on to rain suddenly and Opal was trying to salvage the books at the front of her stall.
“Hello Opal,” said Irene trying to manage some plastic bags full of vegetables and fruit and holding up a huge umbrella to protect herself.
“I’ve just called by to thank you for the other day.
It was so nice meeting all of you.”
“Oh, Irene, it was a pleasure.
The boys seemed to get on really well together!”
“It must be wonderful having such jolly parents.
Your father is so amusing!”
Opal reflected that Irene wouldn’t know what it was like to have a family reunion as she hadn’t grown up with her parents.
“He has his moments!” replied Opal.
“Look, don’t stand there getting drenched.
Come and sit inside for a minute while I finish doing this!” Opal pulled at the tarpaulin covering her stall and almost gave herself a shower by mistake.
“You see the tall chap in front trying to rescue his records - he’s the friend who couldn’t get to the party...”
Opal stopped in her tracks.
Irene was sitting completely still, looking straight in front of her.
She was staring at Ross.
Then in a flash Opal understood.
The red hair - Owen was a tall boy with the same red hair!
Ross, who was having difficulty in putting a heavy box away in his car, suddenly turned around as though he could feel someone was watching him.
He looked towards Opal’s stall still holding the box in the pouring rain and finally seemed to pronounce the word, “Irene!" which couldn’t be heard through the violent rainfall.
He simply put the box down again and walked ghost-like towards Opal’s stall uncaring that his clothes were becoming sodden.
When he reached the stall he stood completely inert just staring at Irene.
Opal remained where she was and watched.
He then walked around the stall and knelt silently at Irene’s side.
Now Ross seemed to wake up from an age-old sleep and reached for his wallet.
From inside he drew out a photograph in a plastic container.
It was of them both.
A very joyful younger Irene with longer loose hair and a Ross who couldn’t have looked happier.
Irene stared at the photograph for a moment and then opened her bag and reached for her purse.
She unbuttoned it, withdrew a photo of her red-headed son Owen and held it up for Ross to see.
By now both of them had tears in their eyes and reached out to embrace each other.
That evening Opal stayed up with Brendan sitting hand in hand narrating this extraordinary tale.
“We’d never seen the terrible scar on the back of Ross’s head because of his long unkempt hair.
He’d been injured during his SAS services and was in a coma for some time.
Afterwards he was in such a confused state of mind that he couldn’t find Irene’s address any more.
When he was finally discharged, he was still a wreck.
He went to her old flat where she had stayed with some students, but of course she was no longer living there.
Ross was still anything but well and began to think about their relationship and that he could only bring problems to her.
So he gave up at this point.”
“Well, are they going to see each other again - is Ross going to meet his son?” asked Brendan.
“I don’t know, but I think there is hope.
Irene has understood that Ross didn’t just leave her in the lurch - he was desperately ill and she also realises that Owen should have a relationship with his father.
Let’s wait and see!”
Opal stared at her unfinished work.
She decided to paint the reflection of the woman in a mirror in the centre of the picture in bright shades of red and orange depicting the burning passion that was within her.
“Mm..., I think I’ve got it right now,” said Opal to herself, putting her brush down.

THE END