The Bread Maker

It was 11 at night. Everyone in the village was fast asleep. Little Rachel was dreaming about all the good things on the other side of the sea. Ice cream, trains and football among other things. Mama had already prepped her for the journey tomorrow. They were to sneak out to the bay where a boat would be waiting for them. The boat would take them across the sea. The family had put all of its wealth into the journey. They were starting over after all. Rachel’s dream was interrupted by loud thuds on the door. She opened her eyes slowly and climbed out of bed. Papa opened the door and four bulky men barged in. Men with guns! One of the men, who looked like the group’s leader, sat in a chair and relaxed a bit. Papa told the man something, and they argued over it for a while. The leader eventually caved. He pointed to his watch, and Papa called out Mama. She came into the hallway with a trunk and placed it on the floor. She took Papa into a huge embrace. Tears rolled down her eyes and she wouldn’t let go of him. The leader signaled his men, and they separated the two. They dragged Mama out of the house and into their van. The leader shook Papa’s hands and walked out. Rachel approached the window and looked at Mama inside the van crying to herself. The group soon got in, the leader in the front, and the van drove away into what looked like an abyss. Rachel looked at Papa, who was standing like a rock in the hallway. He looked at her with a dejected face. She slammed the door shut and went back to sleep.

Rachel woke up from the nightmare, sweating like a pig and gasping for breath. She had been having the same one for the last 20 years. The fact that the incident happened when she was only 6 made it more traumatizing for her. She had always felt anxious and often cried after snapping out of the nightmare. The first time she had one, Papa brought her water and tried to soothe her. She threw the glass away and yelled at him to leave her alone. She did not care for what Papa had to say. She never did. Papa never bothered her again.

Rachel slipped her cold feet into her slippers and walked to the cooler. The clock struck 3. She took a few sips of water from a bottle and went up to the window. A Mediterranean breeze came at her like it had some score to settle. She shivered but wanted more. The open sea reminded her of the exhausting ordeal she underwent to cross it.

On the morning after the incident happened, in the dim light of the rising sun, Papa hurried her through their backdoor onto the streets with a satchel full of bread, water and some money; in his hands. They raced themselves through narrow, steeping alleys into the bay. There were several other families trying to flee too. Papa found their small, draped boat and uncovered it. Just when he was about to push it into the water, a boy came to him and pleaded for a ride. He even offered to row. Being the soft man he is, Papa let him come along. Papa believed in everyone’s freedom. Papa rowed during the day, in the simmering heat, and the boy rowed at night although he was strong and healthy. The boy would fall asleep, and they never got much further when he rowed. In the later stage of their campaign, they ran out of bread and water. When they set foot on land after 10 days of an exhausting odyssey, the boy ran away with Papa’s satchel. His pursuit seemed inane in the strange world.

Rachel closed the window shut. She returned to the cooler to find something to eat. All she could find inside was a half-eaten sandwich from days ago. She reluctantly pulled it out and took a bite. Her mouth turned blue and cold in a few moments. This was not the first time she had eaten cold, stale bread. But, it was, in a long time.

The promised land was not jaw-dropping. It was in fact, very similar to what they had run from. Minus the bad guys. At the least, that counted as a win for Rachel. With all the money gone, it meant that Papa had to find a new job soon, or they would be starving. They lived on scraps from an inn for the first few days. The inn’s manager was a kind man and offered Papa a job as a baker. They were given an old shack by the inn to sleep, which was previously a storage room. She found a termite-infested bookshelf in one corner of the shack. There were some books stacked up in the bookshelf. While Papa worked in the inn all day, she sat cross-legged with a book in her hand. When she was out of books, she borrowed some from the nearby library. It was during these times that she had the privilege of eating cold bread for the first time. Papa didn’t earn much at the inn and he often brought home leftover bread. The first time was bad, but she got accustomed to it. She never complained as that would require her talking to Papa. Now, that was something she hated doing. Whenever she wanted something, she would write it down on a piece of paper and hang the paper with a string from the clothes-hanger. She always found that in the following day, the thing she wanted was provided for. Papa understood that Rachel wanted time to cope, but he never told her why she needed to. She never comprehensively did.

As years went by, Papa perfected the art of bread-making. The inn was always crowded, and people came in numbers to eat his bread. Papa was made the head-baker and was given a raise. Even when the job brought in good money, he rarely ate well. He bought her better food and books. When she was 15, the inn’s manager died, and as he had no family, he left the inn to Papa. Since then, Papa never looked back. He built a pool, grew some trees and transformed the once rusty inn into a mini hotel. He employed other refugees and even took care of their families. He expanded the hotel into a franchise by opening a new branch in the far side of town. Papa never took more than his salary and gave all the profits away as alms.

When Rachel turned 18, she moved away. She never conveyed her decision in person to Papa. A piece of paper came to the rescue, as always. She rented a small house with an even smaller porch in the front. She became a librarian by day, and at night, she attended tables in a small local cafe. Papa would often write to her, asking her to come back, but she never wrote back. She found it rather odd that he never tried to visit. The letters stopped coming, eventually. It had been 6 years since Papa wrote to her. She did not miss him. She missed her Mama.

Rachel’s eyes were half-closed when it rang 4. She jumped back into her bed and drifted to sleep as the clock made symmetric ticking noises. In the morning, she made eggs and toast, and coffee to go with it. At the library, she rearranged some books and made entries for the new ones. She was happy that the cafe was closed for the day. In the evening, she took the long walk back home immersed in her thoughts. She opened her house gate and walked a few steps until she reached the front door. When she opened the front door, to her surprise, she saw an envelope lying on the carpet. She picked it up, and on it were written the words ‘Read in Order’. She tore the seal apart and found two folded letters and a document inside. She unfolded the letter numbered 1. It read:

“Madam Rachel,

I hope you are doing well. I find it extremely disappointing that your father chose me to bring you the news of his death. He ended his 6 year battle with a gastrointestinal cancer and breathed his last at 3 this morning. He wanted to be cremated in your absence, and we will be honoring his request.

He was a great man and full of life. He always made others around him happy, even when it came at his expense. He found me on the street in rags, destitute and defeated, and made me the man I am today. He gave me food, shelter and a job. He told me to work honest and hard, and help others in need. He even made me the manager of one of his hotels. I looked after him all through his struggle with this treacherous disease. After the cancer hit, I suggested that he write to you. He said that he didn’t want to annoy you. It is my honor to have served this great man in his time of need. I pray to God that he rest your father’s soul.

The second letter was narrated by your father to you. I hope that you find solace in his last words.

The document contains the only material wealth your father has left you.

Abdul.

P.S : I’m sorry that we had to share bread and water on the boat, and for stealing your father’s satchel.”

She dropped the letter and fell back into a chair. She was blank and pale when she flipped the fold of the second letter.

“Honey,

I write this letter out of pure joy. I’m really proud of your self-reliance. I may not have always been there for you, but you were with me in every deed I’ve done. I know things things were rough between us, but they shouldn’t have been. I know you’ve never been one for wealth, so I’ve written off the franchise to all my employees. However, as a father, it is my duty to not leave you empty-handed. I’ve asked Abdul to put all my earnings in the bank so that they can be delivered to you whenever you want. I hope you use it for your future endeavors.

Remember those times I had no appetite? I had attributed it to the guilt that got built up over the years. It was the cancer all along. How deceptive life can be?

I also wanted to clear up one more thing before I go. Remember the men who came by our house that dreadful night all those years ago? I paid them well so that they can turn a blind eye on our escape. They had one demand; that one of us stay back. They wanted one member of the family so that the General doesn’t get angry that his soldiers failed. I knew that whoever stayed back was either going to be thrown into slavery or shot to death. Mama and I agreed that I should be the one to stay back, and we also told the men about our decision. On the night before our escapade, Mama was sobbing violently. She told me that she can’t raise a child all on her own, especially in a whole new world. We deliberated for a long time, and with a heavy heart, I agreed with her.

I don’t know what happened to Mama after that, and I never wanted to. I thought that if I am stuck with her, I couldn’t tend to you. Even though it was done out of fear, I respect your Mama’s choice.

I know you’ve not talked to me all these years, because you thought I was the bad guy. The truth is, Honey, Mama and I made choices which were hard but required. I am proud that we had the foresight to do so. I am sorry if I bothered you again with this letter; I won’t(can’t) anymore.

Papa.”

Rachel’s face was red with anger. She hated Papa now more than ever. She hated him for telling the truth so late. She hated him for not looking after himself. She hated him for leaving her alone in this cruel world. She kicked furniture, tossed things around and yelled until she was tired.

She cried all night.