Mafia way

About that we had to survive and in a cafe there was food. I knew that for certain. Because the smells from the kebabs from from such places.

I had been then with time to watch the man on the moon. When we moved. I had no time even to go to school. I worked full time fully like any other Turkish child. But then I found out in Cyprus children do not work they are students.

It does not tally does it when on a holiday that children in Cyprus do not work? The population looked well fed. They were well done families who had got on because of their children being so attractive.

"And she is so clever we are delighted we had so many of them."

"Yes our bread and butter."

"Without our children we would have been nowhere."

"Mother what do they mean?"

"That their children do housework and do their homework."

"Ah."

The girl snarled somewhat and said, " come with me."

She tried to speak when she could not she sent me over to the rubble to collect stuff which had been left from the Greeks. They had the same photographers as the Nazi's.

"This is somewhat it means?"

"Well what does it mean?"

"You are so stupid."

And she closed the door.

I did not know what they meant. The locals were not kind to us all. Spent their time in making child abuse a necessity and worthy work.

They said they were going to show me and to illustrate points if necessary. I locked them all indoors and tried not to throw away the key.

"See we do nothing all day."

Dad was agog I had left school at fifteen and been thrown out into the lap of my parents. I ran away from school that was why we were in Cyprus.

I just got bullied and abused it was a tragic mistake. Out of the frying pan into the fire.

Look it is not true. They do work but in silence they do the work of their parent and one of that is the truth. It is silent suffering which then creates monsters havoc and God only knows what else.

"We deserve to eat the world because the world has eaten us."

Sorry this is so confusing what letter from the war? Well when I moved in with my family to the place I found a letter from a little boy who had been abused. It made him like a star in my mind as if he has come across time and leapt to me.

I spent the time indoors making lines to him then tore the letter. I just had to it had become oppressive as if eating at my mind why did the boy write letters to himself could not he post them? Who had abused him?

He was so beastly dull.

Well he said he had nothing to do but eat and think about cake. He must have been a fat boy. I thought imagine spending ones time thinking that.

My teachers were not amused I had lost history and was condemn as ignoramus. In the war they had no other amusements. They had bombs. But the cafe was not bombed. I sighed to myself dared not speak it. I dared not speak of anything after that as if my lips were sealed.

That when I went in and found that letter. the letter which came from the second world war from a child who once lived there. He said he asked for cake and got it and there was nothing but self satisfaction in that letter. Why did it then haunt me?

For a number of years the yearning to know came and then someone fitting the description said as he sat down. I ate a lot of cake here during the war.

"I eat a lot too. "

He reddened and nearly got up from his seat. Someone wolf whistled and he sat down again. I had no idea. Why he had been so uncomfortable usually people got on. They liked a teen serving them tea and coffee it made them feel at home.

"You shouldn't be here." He sat down angrily. There was his tie ruffled. I did not know why but dad looked at him with interest.

I felt like a invisible ghost walking inside something I had no idea of. Sometimes I knew so much that the very thoughts and feelings hurt. I did not want to know I was too young.

"I am going to school if you are done with me?"

"Yes."

The man seemed to be now frightened and as he had been planning on staying he said he was leaving.

"He has come from the war he used to be a customer here." I re told mum.

She said it was unusual to have war customers and wanted to look at him. When she did she went huff and left the cafe amid laughter. And then there was this silence. I remember as if awed quiet. Something waiting to happening.

He looked like a money leaner or something dour and incomplete someone who was asking to find out where everyone was. The letter did not occur to me as I had thrown it with the rest of the rubbish and that made me feel something I wished I knew what it meant.

He sat down while everyone laughed nervously. He seemed to be saying that the cliental had gone down, Only lorry drivers and muck and there did not speak volumes.

"During the war it was much nicer here."

"How?"

"She was a master cook when he got down to it he was even better."

"Her husband?"

"You can call him that."

I went in and around doing the best of the best. I was playing the part of being a waitress. I did not know I would get that role forever.

It was then in the early 70's in London and there appeared to be no one who was honest about what had got into them.

The brew was as if startled and that made it seem like something else had brewed besides the tea.

"It was so jolly the music astounding." He said, "We had to yell in order to dull the sounds."

"Now it is almost sobering."

"Do you want to pay now?" I asked.

"Yes of course. Money important."

His memories was obscure to me.

I was in my teenage years did not want dirt and all that muck coming from them who are men.

I was not upset he did not upset me. But felt all my insides were shaken. I had no right to be in that shop as it might belong to him.

"The former occupiers where would they be now?"

"Well the widow is next door." I said to him not taking in his total stillness. That he did not have a expressive face sort of reassured me.

He ate his bread pudding seem to think not like it used to be and left. I saw no more of him.

The next door then had the ban put in no more open for whoring we are polluted. Closed by the council.

What had happened ? I did not know she was open for business. She had taught mother how to cook and worked for us a few years. What had gone wrong what had got into them all?

When I got back from school.

"It is your fault." He snarled at me. "War hero indeed."

"Why what has happened?"

"We had a narrow scare."

"We could have been shut down."

"Well it is okay isn't?"

"No now we must behave."

I was saddened to see he was not behaving. I waived my right to silence a long time ago. I am now talking.

"That is what he said?"

"Well it's not what he meant."

"We did."

My sister though had the last word.