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Chapter II / Part II / Minerva Mox’s Secret

On Friday night of her first week at the boarding house Emily decided to ask Minerva if it was time that she could tell the young woman her story as promised on her first day.

The two of them were sitting on the open, second floor porch where Emily had her first meal with her great aunt and her old friend. This was actually the pair’s favorite place in the house. It was quiet and set apart from the places in the massive house that could get loud with activity at times. It offered a lovely view of the outlying lands around the place. And there was no better view of the stars overhead at night. Emily approved of the spot. In fact it has also become her favorite place, especially after the sun had set and the lightning bugs took to the surrounding fields.

“So what’s your story Minerva?” Emily asked. She’d waited for Miss Emma to excuse herself to take a bath before asking. Her poor aunt’s bones tended to get to her towards the end of the day. As her bones got to her a little of her patience for her niece’s curiosity grew thin.

Minerva was sitting in her rocking chair gently moving herself back and forth. She didn’t answer at first. She continued to look towards the heavens with a thoughtful expression on her old face.

In the candlelight Emily was able to see the old woman in a somewhat different light. The warm glow of the candle flame had a wonderful effect where it almost made all the old woman’s age lines smooth out. In that light Emily could almost see what a younger version of the woman looked like. Her features were very petite and had a very youthful quality to them; like the face of a teenage girl who had yet to grow into what her womanly face would finally look like. Emily could see Minerva having been a very pretty young woman.

Eventually Minerva pulled her dark shawl around her shoulders and sighed heavily. All of her gruffness was released with that sigh. Without it Minerva almost sounded like a teenage girl playing old woman dress up.

“My story… your aunt would probably kill me for sharing that with you so soon. But it’s a beautiful summer night and there isn’t a cloud in the sky. That’s a good time for a memory tale. There are storms forecast for next week… I don’t like storms so much. I can’t talk about myself when there is thunder around. And lightning… ”

She fell silent again. Her mind was drifting back in time and it was no easy thing for her to do. She had to be in the right head space though. When she spoke her voice was that of a teenage girl. It was something surreal to hear.

“I was about to turn eighteen. I lived in a very well to do estate with my parents during Victorian times. I never had to want for a thing. It was an absolute wonder I didn’t become a spoiled, self involved creature like many of my female counterparts of the time. I attribute this to the influence of my grandmother. She and my grandfather worked hard for the lavish lifestyle my mother was born into. And when my mother married rich and doubled her fortunes, my grandmother made a decision to make sure her grandchildren didn’t become soft like their parents. I was her only grandchild so that gave her a lot of free time to focus on me alone. Read More

Chapter II / Part I / Mab and her Fairies

“She went everywhere that one. The more nomadic she became the more her senses began to change. In life Mab had been a quite ordinary middle-aged woman with an incredible green-thumb who loved her husband and was reasonably satisfied with her life because she was with him. When he was gone she became a singular creature who wanted to see everything, to know everything she could know. She traveled to Florida to see the coral castle and had lively debates about how old Edward had moved all that rock around. She visited the Winchester house and nearly stepped through one of the doors to nowhere. Though technically it did lead somewhere: Down, at a falling pace. That woman can tell you a story or two about her travels. Believe it.” This caused Miss Emma a thoughtful smile.

“One day Mab was presented with an experience that showed her just how greatly her senses had changed… how she was seeing so much more of the world than the average person.

“She was in a large town sitting on a park bench feeding ducks. One of the ducks became startled and started flapping its wings most violently and quaking at something Mab couldn’t see. Finally the duck darted forward and sitting there was an ugly little creature she described as looking like a very old and angry sweet potato. It had arms and legs and a cruel little face where at that moment had a mouthful of duck feathers in it.

“When the creature realized that Mab could see it, it was just as startled as she was. They stared one another down until finally the creature became spooked and ran away. To this day Mab hasn’t successfully been able to identify the creature and at the time she didn’t want to figure out what it was. She was too busy being perplexed by having seen it. It was the start though. From that point after Mab would see things everywhere. And they were things that everyone could see if they wanted to. She realized people simply did their best to filter those things out.

“Mab began a diary and she recorded any little thing that she saw. She sketched these things and slowly began to accumulate her own little dictionary of strange creatures. Often she would visit a library in whatever place she was staying and look through books to see if she could better identify these creatures. When she discovered what a creature was she added that name and notes to her diary.

“Eventually it became apparent to her that she was mostly seeing some of the more mischief laden and nastier creatures talked about in myths or children stories. She wanted desperately to see the beautiful creatures of their kind but they were elusive. She might catch a colorful shadow but she never laid eyes on the shadow caster properly. But when she finally did, she realized why she wasn’t seeing these creatures. At least not seeing these creatures where she was looking for them. Read More

Part III / A Fainting Violet

The trip downstairs was a minor maze. The outside of the boarding house looked large but it failed to give scope to just how large it could be inside when a crafty architect was able to add hallways and strange directions to a grand structure. When she finally found the kitchen on the first floor she was almost grateful to be in a place where she could at least request food. Thankfully there was someone to request such things from.

There was a mother and daughter duo in the kitchen. The mother was stirring a pot of cream of wheat and her daughter was jumping up and down wanting to know if she could go to the back door yet. The mother added a handful of blueberries to her pot and stirred. She finally found her breakfast stew complete and set it to the side. Only then did she turn towards her hyper daughter.

“Yes. But be quick. And bring the bowl back one way or another.”

The little girl squealed and darted out of the kitchen. Emily couldn’t be sure but it barely felt like moment had passed before the little girl returned to the kitchen with an empty bowl in hand.

“He took it! He took it!” The little girl chanted as she jumped up and down.

The mother smiled. “Wonderful! Do you think a little cream will get him to clean up the play room you refuse to neaten up?”

“Mom!” The little girl protested.

The mother shrugged her shoulders. “What? Dusting is one thing. Let him smell that homemade rotting play-dough you have hidden in your play room and see if a bowl of cream is enough. I mean really Sigrid… haven’t I taught you the value of fair trade?”

The little girl looked put off, but clearly what her mother was telling her made sense. When she noticed Emily looking on her demeanor seemed to change though. She crossed her arms over her chest and looked defiant.

“Joao would do anything for me, cream or not!”

The mother looked up and noticed Emily as well. Her eyebrow arched as she looked down at her little girl and gave her a crocked smile.

“Let’s not play things up for the new person in the room.” She poured cream of wheat into a bowl and handed it to the little girl. “No more Joao talk. Now go sit and eat your breakfast –and mind your manners! We have a new guest to the house.”

The woman turned to Emily and motioned for her to come closer. “Come on in and have a seat. This is my daughter Sigrid. My name’s Sonja. Would you like something to eat?” Read More

Emily happily forked mouthfuls of some exotic Indian dish she had no name for into her mouth. She sat at an intimate table of three on a second floor patio. They were out in the open with the breathtaking starry sky spreading out over their heads. There were next to no city lights for miles and miles so there was no pollution (debris or lights) to obstruct their view. The heavens were infinite above.

The best part for Emily was that her dinner companions had allowed her a glass of wine. She felt quite fancy and scandalous though she was quite sure they’d just given her some suped up grape juice.

She was being entertained by the conversation taking place between Minerva Mox and great aunt Emma –who she had officially decided to call Miss Emma. Their wine was quite genuine and they were far from drunk, but each was feeling cozy in their own old skin.

The conversation at hand was about turn of the century love affairs. Thankfully the details they were offering were quite shallow and properly rated for their young company. Emily found it hard to believe the tales were true anyway. They were speaking of Paris during its cultural heyday –something Emily was vaguely familiar with through movies like Moulin Rouge and what few school studies she’d had about the authors and artists of that era. As old as the pair appeared she couldn’t imagine them being remotely old enough to have been there at that time. That was the stuff of time machines or old age drugs. It was entertaining nonetheless. She was especially tickled by the fact that neither woman would outright call the other one a liar. They both relied heavily on the word fibber.

“Meh.” Minerva growled. She turned her attention to the younger female between them. “And lookit you! I brought that pitcher of milk out all for you. Miss Emma and I have had a century to grind our boring old taste-buds down so these spices don’t destroy our tongues. And you’re not even breaking a sweat! You are your mother’s daughter.”

Miss Emma smiled proudly and reached over and gently wound a lock of her great niece’s amber hair around her finger to form a curl. “Oh yes. I see the very best of Eva in this one. I see the very best of Stuart hiding out in there too.”

Emily said nothing, she just smiled back. Even if the wine in her glass was real she’d never feel as light and tipsy as she felt naturally in that moment. As much as she cherished every moment she’d ever spent with her mom and dad she still felt she’d been cheated out of too much time she could have had with them. Feeling that –this didn’t bring her parents back, but this was still the first moment were she felt both loved and in a good place since losing them. It was a start. This led to Emily’s first over-share in months.

“Part of my early trips with my dad when he moved into the city was he’d take me to this Mexican restaurant and we’d make bets who could eat the spicy dishes. Dad always won at first. I got better at it. Then I was beating him! It was a mixed victory though. I could stand the spices but I’d get the wicked farts at the end of the night.”

For a moment there was silence at the small table and Emily immediately felt very stupid and wished she could take back every word. Then nearly at the same time both of the old women started laughing with such intensity Emily thought they might shake their old skins off.

The laughter crept in and Emily found herself laughing just as hard. It had been so long. So very long since she felt she had a right to laugh about anything when she should be feeling so very sad.

“Thanks for the head’s up girlie. I’m glad Miss Emma put you in her side of the house!”

Minerva leaned over and gave the young woman a good natured wink.

“On that note –I’m going to excuse myself for a moment to take care of some business. I can’t tempt my body with gas. It might propel me out of this mortal coil.”

Minerva stood up from her chair and with a brisk walk belying her age moved off the patio for destinations unknown to Emily.

Emily sighed, still feeling the giggles just at the corners of everything.

“What’s wrong with Minerva Miss Emma? She’s old but not old. I can’t figure her out.”

This question sparked a surprised but pleased reaction in her great aunt. She looked thoughtful for a moment –as though she was really thinking about the question. It probably came down more to a question of what was appropriate to offer about the other old woman at this point. The situation was very new and very little had been talked about really. Read More