Piper Square - Chapter 3 - Mary Ann Franklin
If there was a time when Mary Ann Franklin embodied the innocence of youth, it had long since been stripped from her. Somehow over the course of her young life she had become an object of derision and abuse, particularly by the boys who had despoiled her confidence, self-respect and virginity. Through it all she aimed to please, suffering their disdain as a form of acceptance.
But there were always those quiet tears at night alone in her room, the faint feeling of emptiness that ached in her chest, that miserable realization that she was undeserving of love.
College proved to be much the same, with fellow students taking advantage of her awkwardness and need to impress. They stole her work, her money, her time, and even her things, taking them as payment for suffering her presence. Boys moved her from room to room, like a cigarette passed around then eventually discarded, nonchalantly put out under foot, crushed against asphalt, disregarded and forgotten.
And so it was that during the time when children become individuals, Mary Ann Franklin had instead become a reputation.
Subsequent years continued her youthful traditions, deepening the well of despair she had fallen into. Eventually the frustration and pain was too much to carry, and in a decision very much foreign to her being, left herself behind on to begin anew in Piper Square, a quaint urban park, surrounded by boutiques, cafes, restaurants, organic markets and more; an apartment in one of the buildings that surrounded the park her new home.
Mary Ann Franklin kept mostly to herself, using her free time was used for personal development through writing, working at the nearby Maroon Cafe to subsist. Maintaining a friendly facade during work hours, she managed to slip by unnoticed for a time. Eventually though her coworkers noticed the aversion to socializing, the melancholic way she moved through the day, how she never really present in the moment and began to wonder why.
When questioned Mary Ann Franklin acquiesced to their invitation rather than reveal the secrets of her past; and as that first drink passed through her lips, she felt herself slip into familiarity.
Not too long into the night Babak Bardia, an olive skinned foreigner with a fluctuating accent and skin tight jeans, immediately recognized within her those qualities which had served him so well in the past. Alternating compliment with insult, casual touching with intense flirting, presence and absence, he had within a few hours effectively unraveled the months of self repair Mary Ann Franklin had accomplished.
A week had passed since they had met; a week’s time was all it took for Babak Bardia to take over her her apartment.
Over the next three months he would manipulate Mary Ann Franklin, using her bank account, access to her meager savings, making her perform depraved acts for his pleasure, and all the time claiming he loved her; that if she loves him, this was how to prove it. The end came soon after he had convinced her to marry him, a failed attempt to avoid returning to Iran. Their separation coming only after she discovered the video on his phone; Babak Bardia bent over her kitchen counter being taken by another man.
The truth is that even as she forced him to leave, Mary Anne Franklin had second guessed her decision, wondering if perhaps she was only deserving of that fake sort of love that she had become so overwhelmingly familiar. Broke, broken and alone, she was sprawled naked on her bed.
Wishing that she could shut her eyes just once and sleep forever.
After two days she had barely moved or eaten. As she contemplated her life she came to the decision to clean herself and return to her rut; making her way to the bathroom with the hope that a warm shower could somehow reinvigorate her.
She even forced a smile as the droplets dropped rhythmically from her hair.
Refreshed and clean, Mary Ann Franklin found herself in a somewhat better mood. She opened a window and took a seat at her dining table, letting the cool breeze dry her slowly, watching goose bumps pop up along her skin. Outside the life of the square, could be heard, the melody of life, of people in motion, a part of the tapestry of which she had been a loose thread.
More than anything she wished to be woven back in.
As that thought crossed Mary Ann Franklin’s mind a small voice calling attention to itself called to her. She looked around for a moment, eventually spotting a cockroach on its hind legs gesturing for her to come closer.
She leaned in, coming face to face with the insect.
Opening its arms wide the cockroach proclaimed “I love you!”
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| Mary Ann Franklin - Art by Jacob Hair |
College proved to be much the same, with fellow students taking advantage of her awkwardness and need to impress. They stole her work, her money, her time, and even her things, taking them as payment for suffering her presence. Boys moved her from room to room, like a cigarette passed around then eventually discarded, nonchalantly put out under foot, crushed against asphalt, disregarded and forgotten.
And so it was that during the time when children become individuals, Mary Ann Franklin had instead become a reputation.
Subsequent years continued her youthful traditions, deepening the well of despair she had fallen into. Eventually the frustration and pain was too much to carry, and in a decision very much foreign to her being, left herself behind on to begin anew in Piper Square, a quaint urban park, surrounded by boutiques, cafes, restaurants, organic markets and more; an apartment in one of the buildings that surrounded the park her new home.
Mary Ann Franklin kept mostly to herself, using her free time was used for personal development through writing, working at the nearby Maroon Cafe to subsist. Maintaining a friendly facade during work hours, she managed to slip by unnoticed for a time. Eventually though her coworkers noticed the aversion to socializing, the melancholic way she moved through the day, how she never really present in the moment and began to wonder why.
When questioned Mary Ann Franklin acquiesced to their invitation rather than reveal the secrets of her past; and as that first drink passed through her lips, she felt herself slip into familiarity.
Not too long into the night Babak Bardia, an olive skinned foreigner with a fluctuating accent and skin tight jeans, immediately recognized within her those qualities which had served him so well in the past. Alternating compliment with insult, casual touching with intense flirting, presence and absence, he had within a few hours effectively unraveled the months of self repair Mary Ann Franklin had accomplished.
A week had passed since they had met; a week’s time was all it took for Babak Bardia to take over her her apartment.
Over the next three months he would manipulate Mary Ann Franklin, using her bank account, access to her meager savings, making her perform depraved acts for his pleasure, and all the time claiming he loved her; that if she loves him, this was how to prove it. The end came soon after he had convinced her to marry him, a failed attempt to avoid returning to Iran. Their separation coming only after she discovered the video on his phone; Babak Bardia bent over her kitchen counter being taken by another man.
The truth is that even as she forced him to leave, Mary Anne Franklin had second guessed her decision, wondering if perhaps she was only deserving of that fake sort of love that she had become so overwhelmingly familiar. Broke, broken and alone, she was sprawled naked on her bed.
Wishing that she could shut her eyes just once and sleep forever.
After two days she had barely moved or eaten. As she contemplated her life she came to the decision to clean herself and return to her rut; making her way to the bathroom with the hope that a warm shower could somehow reinvigorate her.
She even forced a smile as the droplets dropped rhythmically from her hair.
Refreshed and clean, Mary Ann Franklin found herself in a somewhat better mood. She opened a window and took a seat at her dining table, letting the cool breeze dry her slowly, watching goose bumps pop up along her skin. Outside the life of the square, could be heard, the melody of life, of people in motion, a part of the tapestry of which she had been a loose thread.
More than anything she wished to be woven back in.
As that thought crossed Mary Ann Franklin’s mind a small voice calling attention to itself called to her. She looked around for a moment, eventually spotting a cockroach on its hind legs gesturing for her to come closer.
She leaned in, coming face to face with the insect.
Opening its arms wide the cockroach proclaimed “I love you!”
To which she responded by swiftly crushing it with the palm of her hand.
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