by E J Pay
Aunt Oronia and Ananke stay for a few weeks to help get the family settled into a new routine. Ananke keeps an eye on me and Dom, not giving us a moment to ourselves. Though they are both kind and love us, I am happy when they finally leave and we are left to settle into our new way of life.
I had to quit school. Not that I mind missing the education. It is primitive, but still interesting to hear their theories, knowing myself which are true and which are not. I am sad to have lost the opportunity for Pearl, though. Hopefully, when I can fix everything, Pearl will be able to go to school again.
I lay awake many nights and think of my mom and my life in Atlantis. I think about Jack and wonder if he has met another girl who interests him. I picture the Atlantean army at war with Ceto’s army. I worry over them and how they are doing. I dream and have nightmares that plague me, but I am no closer to finding my way back to them - back to my real family and my real life. I am working harder and eating less - a nasty combination in a growing girl. I have frequent headaches. I am growing used to them.
Dom is still attending school and helps Grandfather when he gets home. We only have a few minutes together after the evening meal. But summer is approaching and Dom will soon have a break from school. We both hope to have more time to teach me what I need to know.
I have taken over cooking. Pearl’s mama has been teaching me my way around the kitchen, but soon it is all in my hands as she continues to manage the few remaining servants and pick up more chores in Grandfather’s home. Most of the meals I make are simple like olive, tomato, cucumber, onion and feta horiatiki salad. Dom teases me because I burn even the simplest dishes. But tonight, I think I have found my niche in the kitchen. I am excited to see Dom’s reaction.
“Oh, no. Do we have to eat more of Pearl’s burned food tonight?” Dom asks as he comes to the table. Grandfather is traveling tonight, looking ever farther for business partners and customers who have not been tainted by Cook’s rumors. So it is just me and Dom and his mama seated at the table.
“Dom,” his mama says as she shakes her head at her son. “Pearl has spent the past few months learning and trying just as you have done.” She glances at me then back at Dom. “And just as you have made mistakes in your accounting with Grandfather and work in the fields, Pearl has made mistakes with the food. But just as you have improved in your new responsibilities, Pearl has improved in hers. You are both getting older. You’re almost 11 now. Please treat your sister with the respect and maturity you are capable of and she deserves.” Dom sighs and looks down at the table sitting quietly to wait for the meal.
First, I bring out the horiatiki. Dom eats it without complaint since it is one dish that no one can mess up. Before his salad is eaten, I bring out the second dish – keftedes. The mild-flavored meatballs aren’t dry like they have been the past few months. They are juicy and flavorful and covered in the traditional cream sauce. The pita bread I made to go with the keftedes is perfect. The garlic flavor peeks through the layers of unleavened bread and adds the perfect touch to the meat and sauce. I can see Dom’s mouth watering as he reaches for another serving of the keftedes, but his mama puts her hand on his wrist.
“No, Dom. You must leave room in your stomach for the dessert Pearl has prepared.”
“She made dessert, too?!” he asks. He looks at me with a big grin on his face. It’s enough of an apology for me for the way he was abusing my cooking earlier. I head to the kitchen to grab the loukoumades for dessert.
As I lift the towel from the bowl, the smell of warm cinnamon makes its way to my nose. I stumble backward for a moment. The scent hits me in the face like a stinging memory. Something about the smell is overwhelming and familiar. I see images in my mind. A boy with red hair who always smells like cinnamon. My heart feels like it is going to break and a tear finds its way onto my cheek. I feel like I have been crushed with the weight of lost love, though I cannot place the who or the why.
“Are you ever going to bring the dessert?!” Dom’s excited voice brings me back to my senses. I reach for the jug of syrup and pour it sparingly over the fried dough dusted in cinnamon and rolled in walnuts. I wipe my cheek with the back of my hand and bring my masterpiece to the table.
Dom and his mother clap for the dessert when it arrives. Mama doesn’t stop Dom from eating seconds and he reaches into the wooden bowl for more loukoumades. We talk and we laugh as the evening sun reaches for the horizon. The days are growing longer and Dom and I will have more time together this evening after dinner.
“Dom,” his mother says to him. “Since your sister made such a lovely meal, I say we celebrate.”
“Absolutely!” Dom agrees.
“We will celebrate by helping Pearl clean the kitchen together.” Dom’s eyes grow wide and he opens his mouth in protest, but Mama stops him. “As we work together, the load will be lighter and you and Pearl will have time to play this evening.” Dom shoots a quick glance in my direction. This is a chance to teach me how to use my powers.
“Yes, Mama,” he agrees. “I will gladly help tonight. Thank you!” Then turning to me, “Thank you, Pearl. Dinner was so good.”
I smile and nod my acceptance of his compliment. It is fitting that on the night I will be learning more about my… Pearl’s powers, that I am feeling more at home and successful in her body.
Chapter 8
It’s a warm evening and Dom and I are sitting under our olive tree – the same tree I saw greeting me when I first entered Pearl’s body. It is a lonely outcast of a tree. The rest of the orchard is all gathered together in neat rows on the hillside. But this tree, a renegade seedling making its own home on the hilltop, has no other trees around it. From where we sit, we can see the rolling hills of Grandfather’s orchards with the olive press and the house in the valley. It is all Grandfather’s land and will all one day belong to Dom. Our tree is like our own little hideaway from the world when we want to be alone. It gives Dom and me all the shade we need on a warm day and all the cover we need on a night of discovery.
Dom sits cross-legged in the dry grass beneath the tree. I am kneeling on my robes. Dom looks me in the eye, assessing if I am really ready to learn about the magic inside of me.
“I’m ready, Dom,” I assure him. “This is the only way to get Pearl back home.”
Dom’s eyes widen and he takes in a quick, sharp breath. He has grown accustomed to calling me Pearl and started to forget that I am really Evelyn. I understand his confusion. I sometimes forget myself.
Dom shakes his head, clearing his thoughts, and says, “Hold out your hand.”
I put out my right hand, my left hand still holding the hamsa medallion around my neck. Dom takes my open hand and places his closed fist into it. When he pulls his hand away, there is a small, black pearl in my open palm. Recognition sweeps over me again. I know this stone. Yes, it is smaller than the one I held nearly a year ago, but the shape and color is still the same. This is the pearl I grasped when I was last in Atlantis. This is the pearl that brought me here.
“Pearl,” Dom gets my attention. “You are going to start your lessons by moving this pearl with your mind.” He doesn’t know. Dom has no idea that this pearl is a link to everything. For him, it is just an object – something to use as a learning tool.
Of course, maybe it’s a sign to me from Pearl. Or from Fate. Or from Destiny. All I am sure of is that I MUST pay very close attention to whatever comes next. Dom mistakes my quiet fascination for confusion or fear.
“You don’t need to worry, Pearl,” he assures me. “This is the easy stuff. I’ve done it lots of times. You’ll remember.”
As he says the words, an image flashes through my mind. I see Theodis working at his regular chores in the animal pen. He is pouring slop into troughs and refreshing the hay. He stops his work near the wall of the house and looks around to make sure no one can see him. He digs through the hay pile and pulls out an amphora. The ceramic pottery piece is one from a set that I recognize from Grandfather’s rooms.
They are all filled with some of Grandfather’s prize liquors. Fine paintings like I’ve seen on museum field trips cover their sides. Images of harvest, of moon and sky, of royalty all cover the valuable set. Dark wines and light champagnes and a dozen more liquids I cannot name fill those amphorae. Theodis helped himself to Grandfather’s store.
Just as Theodis gets ready to take a drink, I see a small bucket rising over the railing behind him. I look for the hand holding the bucket, but I see none. Then the bucket floats above Theodis and dumps upside down over his head, filthy water from the trough soaking his clothing before falling to the ground. Theodis jumps to his feet, shoving the amphora of wine into the hay. He looks left and right, trying to find the person who embarrassed him. Trying to find Dom.
In this memory, I turn to see a younger Dom at my side, under the same olive tree we are sitting under now. He is laughing and I am laughing with him. He is the one who poured the water on Theodis. But he could not be caught because he was nowhere near Theodis when it happened.
The memory vanishes and the hand holding the hamsa is burning hot. I drop my hand to my leg, wiping the heat on my robes.
“I just want you to focus on the pearl,” Dom says, oblivious to the memory I’ve just seen. “Are you focusing?”
“Yes!” I answer. I return my attention to the small, black object in my hand.
“Good,” Dom continues. “Now, I want you to focus all your thoughts on the very center of the pearl.” Atlantis is the first place I learned to focus my attention on inanimate objects to discover the life within. I found the life in water, in temperature, in sea life, in air. Now I am looking for it in the stone that I think will take me home. I use my mind to reach out to the heart of the pearl in my hand. I feel it instantly, reaching out to me, using silky tendrils of thought to tickle my brain. I laugh as I meet the heart of this stone.
“Okay, Pearl,” Dom says. “I want you to ask the pearl to do something.”
“What should I ask?” I wonder aloud.
“Ask it to roll around in the palm of your hand,” Dom replies.
With my eyes focused on the pearl, I reach out and speak to it with my thoughts.
Hello, I say. I am Evelyn.
ARE YOU?! The pearl yells into my mind. I am taken aback by the force of her speaking. She is not at all gentle. I feel the tendrils of her thoughts turn to distrust as she searches my mind for what I want from her.
Yes, I respond quietly. I am Evelyn.
The pearl laughs at my words. YOU ARE NO EVELYN. YOU ARE ME AND I AM YOU! YOU CANNOT FOOL ME!
Please, I respond. I am not trying to fool you. I just have a favor to ask.
OH REALLY, the pearl responds, AND JUST WHAT KIND OF FAVOR IS IT THAT YOU WANT TO ASK OF ME?
Well, I begin, I wonder if you might roll around in my palm a bit. I’m learning levitation from Pearl’s brother, Dom, and he says this is the way it is done.
The tone of the pearl softens and she whispers to my mind, Dom? Dom is a sweet boy. He has carried me with him since you gave me to him those many years ago. I am always in his satchel. I feel the warmth and tenderness the pearl has for Dom. It is enough to catch in my heart. A tear falls to my hand, landing near the pearl I hold.
Ah, she whispers to me again, you have grown fond of the boy. It is fitting since he is your brother. I don’t have the heart to correct her. She was so angry with me when I said my real name. I let her believe I am Pearl. I hope that will encourage her to help me.
The pearl makes tiny circles in my hand. They are very small at first, but the circles grow wider until she reaches the small drop that fell from my eye. She rolls through the tear then stops. She rolls back into the remaining water, rolling in it until it is all off of my hand and onto her body.
Is there anything else? She whispers. I look up at Dom, willing him to not make me do anything more with the pearl. She is aching inside. I don’t know why, but it breaks my heart to ask more of her. But Dom’s face is jubilant. His eyes are lit by a smile that stretches from ear to ear.
“Pearl! You did it!” He shouts, “I knew you weren’t lost! I knew you were in there!” The pearl in my hand is growing hot. Dom hugs me and just before I can close my fist around the pearl, it leaps up from my hand. I pull away from Dom to catch it before it falls, but it isn’t falling. The pearl is simply floating in the air in front of me and Dom.
Dom’s smile softens and he reaches his hand toward the pearl. When his palm opens beneath the black stone, it lowers into his grasp. He folds his fingers around the pearl and holds it to his chest.
“Do you remember when you gave me this, Pearl?” He asks with tenderness in his voice. “It was a perfect day. Before we lived here. Father brought home a sack of oysters from his trip to the coast. You and I sat on our bench under the pomegranate tree, opening each oyster with rocks we found. We were eating ourselves silly. You had the last oyster. When you opened it, the pearl was inside. We were both so excited. It was yours. It was in your oyster. But you gave it to me. Do you remember what you said?”
I sit quietly, waiting for Dom to answer his own question.
“‘Here,’ you said. ‘I am already a pearl. You need a pearl to always keep with you too. That way we will always be together.’”
My heart is about to burst with feeling for this sweet boy. I want to tell him I am not Pearl, but I cannot do that to him. He needs me to be Pearl. He needs me to be his sister. So, instead, I ask him a question.
“How old were we when that happened?”
Dom calculates the few years of our lives on his fingers. “It was before we moved here,” he says to himself. “That’s at least three-and-a-half years. And we’ve been 10 forever, so…six or seven, I guess.”
I smile and nod and put my hand on Dom’s shoulder. I love Dom like a brother, even if he isn’t really mine. It’s nice to have a brother for a while.
We both look up as we hear our Mama calling us from the porch. The sun is behind the hills now and the first stars of evening have been twinkling at us for quite a while. We stand up under our tree, stretching and breathing in the cooling air. Dom places the black pearl back inside his satchel and we race down the hill to our home.
The evenings will only grow longer. We will have even more time together. I will be able to learn all I need to know to go back to my own home. I ache to go home. But I also ache over leaving.
Chapter 9
It seems like an eternity that I have lived here in Argos. Dom and I are 11 now and things for the family are worse than ever. Most of the servants have left the place altogether and the estate is falling apart with just our care. Dom still continues to go to school, but his added responsibilities at home mean that he misses several mornings each week. I cook all the meals now and Mama does what she can to keep the house running. But the orchards are showing signs of neglect. Many of the tree tops are outgrowing the roots and we can’t get to all of the pruning. Some of the trees are starving for nutrients, but we can’t turn the soil as often as it needs. Some of the orchards are infested with disease and the trees are dying. Grandfather spends all of his time in his various rooms, meeting with visitors out of our sight and hearing. The man with the purple robe has started visiting Grandfather often. Dom and I wonder if he is trying to seek to marry Mama. It makes sense. That would be a sure ticket to Dom and his powers. If we become desperate, I will use my powers.
I have become better and better with my powers. The black pearl only comes out on occasion. I convinced Dom to let me use other objects for my practice. I told him I was afraid to lose his pearl. We used sticks and rocks for a while until I fine-tuned the proper voice and method of address for objects I want to levitate. The elements are a little more moody on land than they are in the sea. At least when compared to the sea life in 2,400 years. I am often rebuffed or turned away with comments like, Someone thinks she can control me. Well, I have news for her. I will not be controlled any more by these ridiculous humans.
The plants gi
ve the most trouble. Sticks, trees, even fruit can be temperamental. Give me a rock any day. The rocks and soil are so happy to have attention paid to them. Most of their life is spent being moved out of the way for trees and other plants to grow. They give all the nutrients they have so the flora can flourish. All they need is a little gratitude.
Hello, generous soil, I will say.
Well, hello there. The soil responds. Aren’t you just a polite person? What can I do for you today? I then continue to ask the soil (or rocks) to do something for me. At first it was simple stuff like creating a small mound. But now I can get items to move through the air, floating here and there above the ground. The trick is the air itself.
When I lived in Atlantis (how I miss it), I had communication skills with the air above the ocean water. That skill has translated beautifully to all air here in Argos. It doesn’t know me or my father like the air above Atlantis did, but my ability to communicate with it is just as strong.
Welcome again, Pearl Evelyn, the air whispers to me.
Hello, friends, I say. Then we have a lovely conversation about the weather and how hard the air has been working to keep things in their proper season. I have become good friends with the air around me and they have helped me learn proper levitation.
My friends, I say. This is my rock friend Hortius (or whatever the rock is named). He is generously willing to help me learn today (manners go a VERY long way with all communications). Would you please be so kind as to work with us?
The air and other elements and I then work together to do some pretty amazing things. Last week, Dom and I worked to repair a low rock wall. Because of our powers, the work didn’t take as long as Mama expected it to. We had several extra hours to ourselves. Dom is a genius when it comes to talking to the plants. They respect him and will very often work to impress him. Sometimes I think they do it just to show me up.
