Knock, knock, knock.
I race over to my window and push back the curtains, to be greeted by the grinning face of the girl from the carriage.
I close my eyes, then open them again, unsure whether I am hallucinating or not, then carefully avoid focusing on her.
She knocks again, and as I glace at her, she motions for me to open the window. So, against all common sense and better judgment, I do.
“Hi,” she says happily, “I’m Sophie.”
“Hi, Sophie,” I say uncertainly.
She sticks out her hand, and I stare at it blankly, so she pulls it back, “Don’t be all freaked out. I suppose it is awfully strange for you to have someone come to your window like this, but Mr. Thramas never has any visitors, so I did not think anyone would answer if I went to the front door,” she takes a breath, “Anyways, I have never seen you before. Are you new here? What is your name? How do you know Mr. Thramas?”
“I am new… kind of,” I say.
“Great. Where are you from?” She climbs the rest of the way through my window.
“I used to live in the yellow house.”
“Really? I did not think that anyone lived there. It looks so eerie, with that one giant, looming window. Sort of terrifying, really.”
I laugh, “I suppose.”
“So why did I never see you before?”
“My mom… she never let me out of the house, not since I was very young.”
“That’s awful!” Sophie exclaims.
“I guess so.”
“So what happened?” She asks, sitting on the edge of the bed, “What are you doing here?”
“My mom died.”
“Oh my goodness! I am so sorry! That is horrible.”
I shrug, “I keep thinking it is… but then again, maybe it is not.”
“Why do you say that?”“Well, now I finally get to see things and do things and live. My mom and I were never terribly close, anyways. I mean, she was the only person I ever remember knowing up until yesterday, aside from Percy, my cat, but it is not as though we talked all that much, or anything.”
“Oh. Well, what is your name?”
“Abbey - wait - no, it’s not. My name is Mela.”
Sophie’s brow wrinkles up in confusion.
“Well, I always thought my name was Abbey, but Troy - my grandfather - says that my name is really Mela, and that Abbey is just my middle name.”
“Oh. Why did you not know your first name?”
“It’s complicated.”
“I imagine so. It sounds like everything is complicated with you right now, Mela,” the clock in the parlor begins to chime, and Sophie jumps to her feet, “Oh! I’m late! I had forgotten!” she climbs back out the window, “I’ll come back again,” she promises, “soon!”
And with that, she is gone, so I close the fabulous window.
“Mela,” Troy’s voice echoes down the hallway, “Mela Abbey, have you tried it on yet?”
“Not yet!” I call back, “did you fetch Percy?”
“Well, I presume this is Percy. He’s looking rather unhappy and rather fat. I suppose that he could have survived a few more days without food.”
Percy’s familiar meow of protest meets my ears.
“Although,” Troy continues, “Percy does not seem to agree with me.”
I laugh, “he rarely agrees with anyone. He’s just the sort of personality that finds the most enjoyment in being entirely disagreeable.”
“Well, get that tried on, and perhaps we’ll even be so daring as to venture into town today.”
“Sounds terrifying,” and I’m only half joking.
“Well. Yes. I imagine it will be. But we’ve all got to overcome our fears, so hurry along, now.”
I slip the white undergarment over my head, “Yes, sir.”
“Very good. Be ready in exactly fifteen minutes. I’ll have the carriage arranged.”
“Carriage?” I squeal, “We get to ride in a carriage? I’ve never ridden in a carriage before!”
“Indeed, no, you have not. Well, there’s a first for everything. Get ready. Wear the hat. It just is not proper for a young lady to be in society without a head covering.”
“It isn’t?”
“No. Indeed it is not. Leastways not for one of your standing.”
“Remind me again what my standing is, exactly,” I pull a dark blue dress over my head.
“I am very important, which makes you, as my granddaughter, also very important.”
I stick my head out of the door and look at him, “What are you, exactly?”
“Important,” he replies, touching a finger to my nose, “now finish getting ready.”
I sigh, “You’re not going to tell me, are you?”
“I will. Just not yet.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t know that you’re ready for that sort of responsibility yet.”
“What?” I poke my head back out the door, “what are you, the king or something?”
“Put on a hat, Mela.”
“Fine. I’ll put on a hat. But then you have to tell me what you are.”
“Alright. Deal.”
“Fantastic,” I close the door to my room and put on a large, lovely, be-flowered, straw hat.
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