“Now that you are staying with me,” Troy tells me the next morning, “I shan’t have you holed up in the house all day long, doing whatever you please. There are a great many things to be required of a girl your age.”
“Like what?”
“Well, you must attend school, and learn how to read and write.”
“I already know how to read and write,” I explain, “Mom taught me.”
“Well, that is good, then.”
“What else do I have to do?”
“You shall still have to attend school, as is proper for a girl of your age. And to even do that, you have quite a bit of learning to do.”
I frown, “What do you mean?”
“I shall not insist on you learning to be normal, because that would be awfully dreadful. Rather, you must simply learn to temper your problems, as to call as little attention to yourself as possible. Once we’ve gotten you in school, it will be important to start on other things.”
“Such as?”
“Well, a girl of your rank will have certain responsibilities to society.”
“Of my rank? I have a rank? I thought I was just kind-of like the pond scum of society?”
Troy shakes his head slowly, “I am a very important man,” he explains, “And as such, and you now being under my care, you’ll have to become quite proper and refined. I am impressed with your gracefulness in movement, and your manner of speech, both are much more refined than one would expect from your upbringing. However, there are other things that will be important., such as learning manners and customs, and“ he frowns at me, “how one should dress.”
“Oh,” I glance down at myself, “What’s wrong with my clothes?”
“How long have you had those clothes?” He asks.
I shrug, “I’m not sure. A long time, I suppose.”
“Do you own anything else?”
“Just more things that look like this,” I glance down at my simple gray dress. It’s nearly to my knees now, I’ve grown so tall. I suppose in common society, that would be unacceptable - immodest - which must be why I need new clothes.
“I see,” he says, “Well I can’t very well take you out in public looking as such, so I suppose I shall just have to guess at sizes, then once you have something presentable to wear, I can take you out and we’ll get you measured for a wardrobe.”
“Alright,” I agree.
“Well, I believe I’ll take off to get you something now - don’t put off til tomarrow what you can accomplish today, aye?” He pulls on a dark, heavy coat then turns to look at me, “Now while I’m gone, you need to make the most of the time - here is what I want you to do: Stare. Pick anything, and fall in love with it. Your goal is to not make it noticeable that you’re entirely infatuated. You should try your best not to say anything about it, and not to touch it, or do anything that might show your affection. Am I understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
And with that, he leaves.
I close my eyes and spin around in circles until I feel as though I’ll fall over, then I open my eyes, spinning more slowly.
Sometimes this is what I do if I just want to escape, because when one is dizzy, one cannot focus on anything, and if I cannot focus on anything, I cannot fall in love with anything.
Troy’s words spin through my head.
“…. We’ll have to have a funeral arranged…”
“…We all believed that she had killed you…”
“…Perhaps, Abbey, it isn’t all that important to be normal…”
“…Mela.”
I crash to the ground, more lost and confused than I’ve ever felt in my life.
“Why did you have to die?” I whisper, “Why couldn’t things have kept being the way they were? What happened.”
I slam my fist into the floor, and a dull ache crawls up my arm.
Am I being selfish or unfair? Should I just feel sorry that mom’s gone, and not feel sorry for myself? Should I be happy that she is gone, and that finally I will be allowed to see the world?
Perhaps that is a good thing, but mostly I just feel afraid. It’s like I just closed my eyes for one second, and when I opened them an entirely new world lay before me. A world filled with beautiful things of all sorts, and terrifying things, and mostly just strange things.
I lean back and lay flat on the floor, staring up at the electric lamp on the ceiling, “Do you know why I am here?” I ask it.
Of course, the lamp does not respond, it being a lamp, but if it did, I imagine it would say something lovely, and perhaps a bit arrogant.
It would have a right to be arrogant of course, it being such a truly fascinating and wonderful lamp. And arrogance, in moderation, is not necessarily unattractive.
In fact, I believe the arrogance of said lamp to be intensely attractive.
I wish there were a way I could climb up to the lamp, just to touch it, and to know it.
I close my eyes and shake my head, “He said no touching, Abbey… er… Mela. And he would not like you closing your eyes like this, either. He thinks you need to learn to cope. And I must certainly be crazy, I never used to talk to myself like this. I suppose that is because I always talked to Percy,” I jump to my feet, “Percy!”
I must have forgotten him in all the chaos. He’ll be at the house, all alone, and likely very afraid, and very lonely, and quite hungry, too, I imagine. Unless he somehow managed to trap one of the mice that run through the house at night. But I’m afraid Percy is terribly fat, and not all that good at chasing mice, so he is likely quite hungry.
I dash out the door, set on retrieving Percy.
Unfortuanately, in my haste, I forgot a very important fact - I cannot go dashing around without thinking.
The second I swing open the door, my attention latches on the first thing I see - a carriage, pulled by two strong, chestnut horses.
Inside the carriage are three small children, and a young woman of about my age, with long, golden hair. She urges the horse to move more quickly with a flick of her reins, and with her other hand holds back one of the children from falling out of the carriage.
She is, by far, the most beautiful girl I have ever seen. I wonder what she is like? I wonder if she is pleasant?
She turns towards me and smiles at me, and I find myself smiling back. Then the carriage turns the corner and they are out of my sight.
I close my eyes and try to re-gain my senses, “This was a bad idea,” I whisper to myself.
“You are right, it was,” Troy grabs my arm and drags me back in the house, “When I told you that you needed to adjust to society, I did not mean for you to go gallivanting outside on your own on only the first day you are learning to adjust,” he slams the door shut behind him, “What were you thinking?”
“Percy.”
“Who?”
“My cat. He’s at my house all by himself, and he’s terribly fat, and I’m afraid he will not be able to catch any mice to eat. He might starve. And he’s awfully spoiled, and won’t know what to do with no one around. I was just going to get him.”
Troy laughs delightedly, “You ventured outside to get your cat?”
“Yes.”
“Well, that was terribly stupid, albeit interesting,” he smiles, “It’s alright, child, I shall go fetch Percy. You stay here. Go to your room and try this on,” he hands me a package wrapped in brown paper.
I wander back to the room Troy has given me to stay in while I live with him - he said that it used to belong to mother - and unwrap the brown paper package. I pull out a long, white, undergarment shift, and begin to unfold it.
And then am interrupted by a knock on my window.
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