Chapter 2: Warmth and Spices
The pair of morning doves outside my window love to coo when the sun rose in the east, waking me from another nightmare. I was covered in sweat and clammy as the morning air slipped through my cracked window. The pale blue paint surrounding the window pane slowly chipped away from the moisture. The night terrors have gotten worse lately. I had them almost every night this week, waking up disoriented in my upstairs room lunging for the glass of water on the nightstand to soothe the incessant nausea that came from the dreams. It was the same every night. Swirling black symbols surrounded my naked body as I was flung through the sky. The symbols were drawings of some sorts or perhaps letters in a language that I was sure didn't exist. As I flung through the night air, exposed, I hurtled toward a pit that swallowed the ground. It surged with energy , malignant energy .
The symbols fused to my skin in ice-hot agony, changing my ivory flesh to that flecked with black tattoos in foreign tongue. This is where I always woke up, when the darkness was about to engulf me. I got out of bed, my nightgown glued to my bodice with a thick layer of sweat. The washbasin was atop the gold dresser Father hauled up here when he, at last, could not stand the sight of it. It still smelled like pine, and it radiated a glean that was out of place in my cramped room, lined with wrought iron furniture. Sometimes when I looked at the mirror I saw her, staring back at me. Other times I just saw my own lilac eyes staring back, disapproving of the reflection. The house was quiet while I dressed and I made my way down to the kitchen. Father was seldom up before midday, exhausted from another night of overindulgence. I had become accustomed to it, the drunken babblings of a man who lived in denial and heartbreak. His muddy boot prints tracked up the stair and I sighed as I looked at the barren cupboards in the tiny forgotten kitchen. The intelligent mind that my mother would brag about drifted away with each pint of ale. Sometimes it seemed he forgot I was there, that some magical fairy must be the one clearing up his vomit, washing his clothes and carrying him to bed when he was too far gone to stand. I laced my boots and stood in the dusty mirror next to the door, fixed my unruly red curls, smoothing them into a high bun. Charles was meeting me in an hour at the market, and he always seemed to compliment me more when my hair was neat and tidy. Remarking that my beauty "Was outshined by the rats nest notoph my head". The smoothing potion I got from the apothecary seemed to make the frizz worse leaving the curls damp and slick as if rinsed with oil. As such I opted for smoothing gel and tons of tiny pins to keep it in place. Mother always loved the tiny flame red curls that fell from my shoulder admiring their shines and unique color. Only a mother's love could value something so messy. As I walked to the door I looked back at the mirror seeing the two gray pieces of hair that framed my face, a reminder of her. They were almost white and I always tucked them behind my ears to minimize its queerness.
The street was very busy today as the weather was favorable and every vendor and merchant thought to take advantage of peoples inclination to enjoy the sunny day. I passed a booth selling fried dough dipped in spices and sugar and heard my stomach growl. It had been days since I had eaten. Father had found my saved coins and spent a rather indulgent evening with a bar maid. As he did with any women who gave him a a fraction amount of attention. This gallantry resulted in leaving me nothing for food. I'd be smarter next time and hide the gold in a new spot I thought as I rounded the corner. I hurried my pace as noon approached happy to see Charles waiting for me. The open market was swarming with people, all stopping at each tented booth to look at clothes, wares and spices from all over the contnteinet. I passed a man arguing with brown-haired thin women over a silk scarf she held in her fragile hands. I tuned them out as the arguing turned into a cussing match and quickened to where I saw Charles sitting against a cobblestone-lined wall eating something out of greasy paper. He smiled when he saw me approaching, I will never get used to how white his teeth are . He was tall and lean, yet muscular. With ash blond hair and freckled cheeks. His dark brown eyes almost look black in the shade and he had a way of making me feel like I was his most important thing. He motioned for me to sit down and I adjusted my dark skirts to squat on the ground next to him.
"Good morning Gorgeous" Charles said with a slight smirk squeezing my elbow in acknowledgment.
"Good morning" I chuckled " Why are you sitting all the way back here I thought you would be haggling at your families wine stand"
" eeh pops was getting on my nerves, drilling me about my lack of interest in fucking grapes," he said with a sigh. " So I decided to people watch a bit"
He leaned over and stuck a piece of fried dough in my mouth grinning at my shocked expression and rushed chewing
"Asshole," I said between bites.
"When you swear like that you sound like a man"
He was laughing, we had this banter since we were kids. It was only recently that the joking morphed into something more. I had grown up across Charles family and he was a fast friend when I started staying out late to avoid father. Our joking friendship helped me through the worst and as we grew older I started to feel comfort around him that I rarely had with anyone else. Last year for my 20th birthday he snuck me out to the edge of the city to see what the locals call The moon shower.
In a grassy field outside a farmhouse he laid down a blanket and we sat side by side as lights filled the sky. Burning bright lights of all colors dancing in a whimsical pattern up in the clouds. In the darkness it illuminated the area, even our skin reflected the array of lights. The old nature witches that littered this area swore that the moon showers were dying storm spirits, entering the atmosphere for the last time. That magical mumbo jumbo never appealed to me as it did for other human children. I just saw the beauty in the moon shower and looked over at Charles to find him staring at my lips. He cupped my face gently running a finger down the side of my cheek and softly kissed my lips parting them slowly. It felt warm, safe and I was intoxicated with him after that. We laid together that night, because I knew he loved me like no one else ever would.
" I wanted to say hi to your family if that's ok?" I said after waking up from the beautiful memory.
" Have you told them of our betroval yet? I know they are strict but they have always liked me".
Charles had asked for my hand soon after that, thwarting traditional courting rules that he claimed were "Outdated and Unnecessary". And I had to agree. Asking my father was as about as useless as inquiring what my dowry would be, both were long gone in their fullness. We agreed to a longer engagement, for him to break the news to his family slowly. He loved me so much that he wanted the start of our life to be perfect. How could I mind? He was so considerate. Keeping our love private was no issue with me, he choose me how could I complain that he wanted to take the time to tell his family .
He shifted his legs beneath him looking a bit uneasy, then shifted to a more jovial smile. " You know I will, they have just been on me lately about taking over the family business. Pops is getting old and has laid into me about settling down." He gripped my tiny hand around his and squeezed in reassurance
"It won't be long now, after the initial shock imp sure they will love you like their own daughter." His smile soothed my anxiety and the kiss he planted on my forehead warmed me in a blanket of comfort. "Initial shock" was a understatement. I was a outcast even in our own tiny section of the city. A mother who ran off without her child to be left with drunkard father. Many assumed my mother ran off with a lover, after all she had been known to hang around the brothels.
The whispering didn't bother me anymore, I just learned to block it out. Ignore it till the anger eventually passed. Some days the anger threatened to swallow me whole, but I smiled through it as Charles said I should "choose to be happy, smile through the pain, only sad people dwell on the past". So I did. He smoothed out a loose curl from my tight bun and took my hand as we strolled through the market. People star and whispered as we walked, like they always did. Having a mother abandon you and a father that turned into an insatiable drunk rarely did anything good for ones reputation.
Despite this Charles never noticed, and we walked for what seemed like hours. Laughing and talking about a future I so longed for. He would buy us a small flat in town and I would look after it while he ran the wine stand. The stability of him was so appealing and I imagined our long life together. Maybe we would have some kids, with my lilac eyes and his blonde ruffled hair. He would be a good provider and a good husband. Although Lumni city was considered progressive and modern, that didn't stop women being sold off to the highest bidder and subjected to a marriage that more resembles indentured servitude.
Charles could have any number of young ladies with suitable dowry's or familial status, but he chose me. Grateful, I hooked his arm around mine as we turned the corner connecting the main road to the smaller side streets. He grabbed my chin and jerked it to him embracing me in a rushed kiss. I had little time to process as a hoard of boys our age strolled by in my peripheral I broke the kiss to find them snickering but found Charles big grin soothing, I was his I thought. He tucked his arm around the small back and we began walking again. As the sun began to set he walked me back to the small beaten down cottage. No lights were on inside and he kissed me goodnight and I walked in, bolting the door behind me. Father wouldn't be back until morning at least and the authorities had advised us to be cautious after sunset, as three people had gone missing in the last two weeks. One was a mother who disappeared from her home while her children played upstairs. The other two were homeless men who squatted on the docks, reported missing by fishermen that grew accustomed to their presence. I pushed those thoughts aside as I lit a candle and walked up the creaking woods floorboards that lined the kitchen. I looked out the bay window to the east. Even though the cottage was in the inner ring of the city I swore I could see the moon shower from here, the bright lights lifting my spirits from the dark place they usually resided in. Then my whole body felt a chill that sent goosebumps all over my skin. My heart flittered a bit and the uneasiness that swept through me was foreign and overtook my senses. A gut warning , mother used to call it. "Instincts", she would remark "keep you alive trust them". I was clammy and overly aware of how quiet the house was. I could smell pine and looked around as if someone would be standing beside me. And then it was gone. Panicking I rushed up the stairs and went to bed. Hoping my mind was not failing me, again.