by Tony C. Skye
Julianna steps back and wipes her eyes, “It still hurts.”
“Of course it does,” Martha agrees, “They are called growing pains for a reason.”
The teen's head slightly retreats from the unusual usage of the term. She sniffles.
“That makes sense,” Julianna confirms her understanding.
“Of course it does, dear,” Martha answers, “I said it.”
Julianna’s lips form a minimal smile against the wishes of her grief-stricken heart.
“You don't ever need to ask my permission for anyone to come over,” Martha rephrases her words, “Just keep it to Saturdays and let me know so I can be there to unlock these doors here.”
The girl's mood lightens with each word spoken by her grams. The woman has a way of lifting her spirits even at the darkest of times. She listens to her grams continue her speech without missing her beat.
“Every Wednesday there's a cleaning crew who comes in. They help me to keep the place together. They will be cleaning your clothes, the washroom area, and the kitchen. And under no circumstances are they to ever clean the hallways where the colored doors are. That is our responsibility.”
Martha notices hesitation in Julianna's demeanor.
“Question?”
“No to the clothes,” Julianna interjects, “I don't really like the idea of people messing with my stuff like that.”
“Don't worry. I'll be here with them. And if you want to do your own laundry or send it out to a launder service, we can do that. Main thing you need to remember is that we clean on Wednesdays.”
She waits until Julianna gives her the okay with a nod of both understanding and acceptance of her grandmother's conditions. Martha then continues,
“Are you going to the funeral tomorrow?”
Julianna nods somberly. Martha kisses her on the forehead before speaking again,
“It'll be alright. We'll get through this together. You're not alone, baby. Not anymore. Frank and I are both here for you.”
The two ladies hug again before Martha steps out into the hallway. She turns around and looks at Julianna. The girl looks a little overwhelmed.
“How do you feel about spending your junior year here? It sure beats a new school. I mean if you want to, that is.”
Julianna's head retreats questioningly, “Really? Can I do that?” She never considered this as an option. The girl dreaded the very thought of entering a new school at such an older age. She would have been the outcast, the new girl, and her life would have been miserable.
Martha smiles as she witnesses the relief within Julianna's deep green eyes,
“Yes. You are of my bloodline. So how about it? Home school?”
The excited teen steps into the hallway of candelabras to hug her grams once more. She staggers with dizziness. Martha's reflexes helps to soften her granddaughter’s fall, but the older woman cannot fight gravity. Julianna drops unconscious to the floor within her grandmother's arms.
Martha gently caresses her granddaughter's face. She speaks quietly,
“The Lady Lanecia was right. He's trying to stop you. But don't you worry, child. He's no match for your old grams here.”
The woman closes her eyes and speaks reverently, “Gariatu Estidium Merné.”
* * *
Chapter 5
The Black Stormy Sea
Caroline stands on a grassy hill overlooking a beautiful lake. The afternoon sun hovers in the blue sky behind her. The light causes a mystical mirror-image of the snow-capped mountains in the distance within the water below. They seem to be pointing in two different directions. Caroline smiles at the effect swimming before her.
A warm breeze blows her delicate knee-length white silk dress. The air moves around her light semi-transparent style with a gentle caress over her body. The teen's white underwear causes the illusion as if her dress has some magical ability to thicken its density against unwanted prying eyes.
The seventeen-year-old closes her eyes and breathes in the smell of the mountainous fresh air. It is a scent long forgotten within a city's boundaries. She hears the movement of the lake water splashing against the shoreline. To her right, her ears take in the sounds of squirrels nibbling away at walnuts. Their chatter plays a sweet symphony in perfect harmony with the eagle's cries overhead.
Caroline opens her eyes and turns to face the sounds of heavy footsteps coming from her left. Her heart flutters.
It's him. Oh gawd he's gorgeous. Don't say anything stupid, Caroline. Keep it together.
“Hello again,” a gentle man's voice speaks.
“H-hi,” the nervous girl stutters.
The short dark hair of the approaching man responds to the wind's subtle nudge. His black jeans fit loosely, but not enough to hide his buttocks in which they lovingly hold. His white shirt almost looks as if it were cut from the same bolt of material as Caroline's dress. The top two buttons are unfastened, but his rippled masculinity isn't hidden from view. His hairless chest and thoughts of rock hard abs help to hold the girl's gaze in a moment of linger. The tall man uses his left hand to wave towards the lake.
“It's rather beautiful. Don't you think?”
Caroline quickly darts her eyes upward to look at the man's eyes.
Crap. He caught you drooling, stupid. Say something you idiot. Oh gawd he's smiling. He thinks you have brain damage, moron.
“Uh - yeah,” Caroline stammers.
Really? That's the best you got? You sound like Frankengirl. Why don't you just drown yourself in the lake and get it over with?
The man steps closer, “I thought a change of scenery might do us both some good.” He pauses to playfully dramatize the arching of his eyebrows, “Unless, you prefer cold damp floors and creepy swirling mist?”
“No,” Caroline shakes her head with an awkward grin, “This is much better.” She breathes deeply and exhales her nerves, “This is really nice.”
The blossoming woman surfaces above the clumsy schoolgirl as Caroline stares deeply into the man's dark eyes, “You did good. Thank you.”
The man closes the gap between them. He gently and methodically places one of his long index fingers against Caroline's breathless lips, “Shoosh, we don't want anyone to get any wrong impressions.”
Caroline's upper lip trembles with anticipation.
Kiss his finger. No, don't! Run your tongue up it. Yuck! What is wrong with you? You should slowly put his finger in your mouth. Yeah, that's sexy. Isn't it? Only if he wants your slobber all over his hand, you idiot. Oh gawd. What am I supposed to do? Wait! He's starting to move his finger. Let him figure it out for you. Yeah, that'll work. Here we go. Get ready, Caroline. He's moving his finger...away. Crap. You're such an idiot.
The man speaks quietly, “Shall we get started?”
Whoa! I'm not ready for all that, dude. What kind of girl do you take me for? You better slow your roll, playa. I can't believe you would even think...
“Is everything alright, earthly-one?”, the man interrupts Caroline's silent ramblings.
She opens her mouth to answer, but isn't quite sure if she has read his intentions correctly. His facial expression isn't exactly beaming with sexual energy. Caroline notices the man's beautiful eyes shift to view a space somewhere behind her. She turns.
The woman-to-be stares in confused astonishment. She tries to search for answers, but none are available. They flee faster than they can form within her mind.
“I don't understand,” she confesses. “How did you? How is this even possible?”
The man laughs. “I guess I did good,” he says with amusement.
Caroline nods her head while moving forward like a dumfounded zombie. As she approaches the scene which has beheld her, the girl turns with a smile, “Yes. You did good. Better than good. This is freakin' awesome.”
The cheerleader feels the man's presence burning through her as his gaze enjoys her. She returns his look. Enjoyment of this moment. Enjoyment of this precious time together. Enjoyment of th
e playful longing to do more, but holding back. Most of all, enjoying the early-stages of an emotional surrender. Her desire, she hopes will become his. And his desire will always be hers.
* * *
Caroline steps onto the cobble stone path which leads to her kingdom's castle. She allows her fingers to interlock with the man of her dreams while he joins her on her journey. Together they will be – the being of a man and his recorder.
* * *
Dr. Victoria Reynolds loads the empty soup bowl into the dishwasher. A small amount of regret passes through the woman's conscience. But her daughter's real need for an uninterrupted sleep far outweighs the deceit she used when dissolving the Valium into the chicken broth.
The woman closes the dishwasher door and presses the start-up cycle. She turns her back to the double-sink in the kitchen. With both hands gripping the granite countertop, the brunette tilts her head back.
“Michael, what have you done to her?”, Caroline's mother exasperates. Victoria runs her right hand through her short-cropped hair and takes in another deep breath. She exhales more of her frustration in the form of a forceful breath. The woman, reluctantly, looks at her phone lying upon the dining room table.
“Damn you, Michael,” Victoria blames within her defeat. She shakes her head disgustedly and walks towards the phone. The short walk seems like the longest twelve steps of her life. She picks her cell phone up and begins dialing.
* * *
“Thank you, Jason. I'll have her there tomorrow,” Victoria states. She disconnects the call and tosses her phone back onto the table. The woman's brown eyes begin filling with water. Tears to reflect the treachery of her husband Michael's cheating romance. Tears to reflect the pressures of the unfamiliar territory of single parenting while still being sufficient in her job. And the tears which reflect a mother who has been forced to watch her child mentally slip away – a child who has a life that is only beginning…her child.
The woman wipes her face with both hands before rubbing them on her beige slacks.
“Keep it together, Victoria. You can't fall apart now,” she self-coaches.
The woman decides a long hot lavender-scented bubble bath is in order. She leaves the kitchen and makes her way to the entry hallway. It leads both to the front door and the staircase which leads to the second floor. After climbing the stairs, Victoria looks left towards her daughter's room down the hall. She silently thanks the gods of pharmaceutical miracles for the reprieve they have given to Caroline. She turns right, passes up the bathroom to her left, and walks into her bedroom.
Victoria walks about midway into her room. She rounds the right side of her king-size bed on her left and kicks off her shoes. She sighs in relief as her feet make contact with the plush white carpet. It massages her aches as she walks over to her dresser against the wall. The tired doctor pulls out a set of comfort clothes comprising of a pair of yellow sweat pants and a matching tee-shirt. She closes both drawers and pulls open the top one. Grabbing her undies, Victoria closes it back and heads for the bathroom to make her relaxation water.
“Ah, that's the ticket,” Victoria moans as her body slips into the soapy comfort up to her neckline. She leans her head back to gain support. Within a few minutes, Victoria, too, sleeps.
* * *
“M'Lady,” a man says as he bows in front of the red velvet carpet leading into the castle's entrance.
Caroline smiles and curtseys just like she has seen done a thousand times in the movies. She looks around the vast area. Her nerves spike as she realizes there are hundreds of people here. They are all dressed in a fitting fashion to reflect a cheesy mid-evil Renaissance fair. But deep down, Caroline wouldn't have it any other way.
Unbeknownst to her cheerleader friends, she has always wanted to be a part of the Cosplay family. There's something quite magical and alluring about dressing up as a fan favorite's character. Not to mention the immense skills involved with the sewing and fabrication of each outfit. And the real cos players wouldn't even dream of stepping out onto a stage with some store bought embarrassment suit. But with Caroline's hectic life, she has been unable to pursue such a hobby. In addition, her fabrication skills are next to none.
“Shall we?”, Caroline's dream man motions towards the red carpet. He offers his arm. With a grin, the teen places her hand upon the man's forearm. The two move together in a perfect stride towards the entrance. Each step feels like it has its own mark of elegance. And although she is trying to play her part, Caroline cannot help but to gawk at the barrage of crossed musketeer swords as they pass underneath.
When they, finally, reach the top of the stairs, a massive double-door entrance stands open. The sixteen-foot entryway looms high over the small built female. Her heartbeat races as she contemplates what must be inside. Guided by the man's arm, Caroline turns her back to the entrance of her new castle. She sees one of the musketeer-looking guys step forward. He crosses the blade over his heart.
He yells out, “All hail the King and Queen!”
The crowd responds like they are answering a cheerleader's call,
“Long live the King and Queen!
Long live the King and Queen!
Long live the King and Queen!”
Caroline glances at the gorgeous man to her left. He notices her eyes upon him and grins. He motions with his head towards the crowd.
“Watch this,” he says under his breath.
Caroline scans the crowd. One by one, each person drops to one knee with their right hand fisted over their chest. It doesn't take long before she notices someone refusing to find their place upon the earth. The stranger is dressed in a black hoodie and brown pants. The attaching hood shadows and prevents her from seeing this person's hair and face.
The stranger calls out, “Shriavet uté xoré evols ait xoré sléch!”
What the hell?
Caroline seeks understanding by way of the repulsive confused expression plastered securely on her face. The man lowers his head to get closer within ear's range.
He speaks softly, “It is a peasant. I believe they said, 'Welcome my lovely queen.' But I did not catch it all.”
“Oh,” the teen responds with uncertainty.
“It is a crime to not kneel before your king and queen!”, Caroline startles as the man addresses the peasant.
The stranger, nonchalantly, turns and walks away. They do not answer defiantly. But they are surely not afraid. They can't be. Not at the slow pace in which Caroline observes their movement to be. But regardless of the odd intrusion, the kneeling crowd doesn't seem to care at all.
“All hail the King and Queen!”, the crowd stands and yells out in unison. A gigantic roar of cheers immediately follows. The man begins waving to them. Caroline follows his example. She smiles as her perfect day continues. Who cares about some weird peasant who probably needs a good dose of modern-day medication, anyway? She sure doesn't. She only cares about the huge castle behind her, the crowd before her, and her dream man to her left. For this is her kingdom. And to hell with the haters.
* * *
“Hee-hee,” a small child laughs. Victoria jolts awake. The sleepy woman shivers while her body reacts to the cold water. She looks up towards her left at the digital clock hanging on the wall by the bathroom's closed door.
6:27 p.m.
“You gotta be kidding me,” she says in frustration.
“Hee-hee,” the child's playful laughter seeps through the door.
“Caroline?”, Victoria inquires with her options down to one person. Especially, after Michael did what he did. She kicked his sorry lying butt to the curb.
Good riddance, too! That worthless cheating bast...
...is that little footsteps?
Victoria intently listens to the footsteps running down the hallway towards Caroline's room. They stop. Still silence fills the house. Except of course, that ridiculous drip in the bathtub Michael always promised to fix.
drip. drip. drip.
The doctor shi
vers against the cold. She pulls the water plug out to allow the arctic-type fluid to escape. Victoria stands up and pulls the shower curtain closed. Turning on the shower, the woman rinses off with much warmer water. After washing her hair, she turns it back off.
Victoria pushes the shower curtain enough to get around it and steps out onto the floor mat. Wrapping her towel around her body, the woman expertly tucks it into a no-hands required position. She brushes out her hair while using her left hand to fluff and her right to operate the blow dryer.
“Hee-hee,” the child laughs.
Victoria switches off the blow dryer.
drip. drip. drip.
“They're going to put you in a jacket if you're not careful,” the doctor mocks herself while staring into the mirror. She decides to allow her hair to air dry. The woman gets dressed and hangs the damp towel over the bar above the white wicker clothes hamper. She double-checks her face before reaching for the doorknob attached to the bathroom door.
Little footsteps run away from the door. Victoria momentarily freezes before jerking the door open. She steps out and looks down the hallway towards her daughter's room. Caroline's door is closed. The uneasy woman walks down the hall and peers down the staircase. She listens for any sounds which could give away the child's location. Nothing.
It had to be Caroline. She's the only one here.
Victoria softly walks on down to her daughter's bedroom. She quietly knocks. There is no answer. Her nervous hand quietly turns the doorknob. She gently eases the door open. Victoria peeks her head inside and looks for her daughter. Caroline is fast asleep.
