Catherine

She buried her head in her arms resting on the table. Her spirits were extremely low. With a slight creak the door opened, this time without a knock. She didn't alleviate her head for she knew who was at the door. Catherine walked to her with a faint voice of slow steps that echoed all over the room. An old lady came near Ophelia, who was so pretty that she must've been excessively beautiful in her youth. Ophelia inherited her grandma's golden hair. Despite her age, her hair was still in good condition. She wore sympathetic and subtle expressions, a mother-like empathy. She ran her hand through Ophelia's hair. She smiled sadly waiting for her to look up. She resisted looking up, but for how long? She could not resist her grannie. She stood up instantly and curled around Catherine. She buried her face in her shoulder. She said nothing but kept on running fingers throughout her long silky-sunny hair.

"Ophy, my dear you know I can't see you like that" she whispered after a while with the sweetest voice but not intoxicating like someone else. It was sweet like pure honey, comforting. "I don't do it on purpose grannie" she whispered back. "I know dear".

They pulled apart and Catherine noticed tiny drops of water on her cheeks. Ophelia wiped them suddenly and composed herself "I am fine now grannie, actually I was coming to you" she assured. "What is it my dear, tell me?" she asked with deep interest "Mr. Arthur came this morning. He said that he is very much delighted by my work. It saved his mom's life". "That's great darling" Catherine patted her shoulder and continued "We should celebrate your success then". "Sure, but what are we going to be doing?" Ophelia felt better. "We should bake and enjoy some tea with a piece of epic poetry" "Frankly speaking it has been a long time since we went together in the kitchen to bake something together. Let's go!". Grandma suggested, in order to raise her granddaughter's spirits although her morale also needed alleviation.

"Ophelia dear, please give me that plate" she demanded. "Sure, Grannie" while she passed her the plate, she brought up a new topic for their conversation. It was an old habit; they had a gazebo in the center of the garden. That was the spot where both of the ladies fancied themselves with tea every afternoon. They would listen to nature together and talk passionately. The garden was also massive respectively to the house. It always blossomed with greenery and beautiful colors. Flowers of almost every color could be seen there. Many bushes were adorned with roses, wearing the color of crimson. Ophelia loved nature and this garden was very dear to her heart. They would exchange their views and opinions on many topics. As both Catherine and Ophelia were interested in literature, they would talk for hours and explain their opinions and perspectives to each other. They would also read poetry to each other. Their conversation could expand from politics to science and from history to gardening, in no particular order. They would talk about anything that came to their minds. Both were readers so their vision was vast to negotiate on any such topic.

"Grannie, I often think what would it be like, if everyone in this town was on our side". "How, my dear?" though she had caught the meaning behind her words. "Like what would it be like if everyone thought just like me, just like us. It would have been a beautiful world then" she exclaimed sipping the tea. "Dear, you would not have liked that, either. This individuality makes life beautiful. There would have been no charm if everyone would have been the same" Catherine explained her motive but Ophelia was in no mood to give that thought "But grannie, it would have been better. If people valued sentiments over material things. There is so much rationality these days. People don't tend to understand others' feelings and emotions. They take them for granted" she stopped briefly and took a bite of the pie which was sitting on a plate in front of her. "You should notice what I had. Months and months of my struggle went in vain here in Pensive. Education surely brings sense to a being" this time her voice was muffled up due to the bite. "But dear, education only gives us knowledge but it doesn't ensure that one is accepting this knowledge and mannerisms that come with it by his whole heart. It is totally up to a person's nature that impacts the whole thing tremendously". Her eyebrows furrowed slightly "You may be right grannie but this did not work in my experience. You can see the difference between a literate and an illiterate man clearly. Just like Mr. Arthur he is very well educated as you might know and also, he isn't from here (that affects too) that's why he understood the value of my work. He admired it ardently. But the people in this town, don't seem to even give it a thought. Their behavior is extremely bitter towards these things" her voice rose and cheeks flushed red with intensity whenever she mentioned the locals of her town. She couldn't understand why were those people so rational beings.

It was night time Ophelia had gone to bed. Thomas was out for some work purposes and Catherine was waiting for his return. They were the three of them in that house. It was nearly as big as a manor. All the daylight had gone and the darkness spread its wings. The whole house was candlelit at night, so it was never technically dark until all of them had gone to bed. Catherine was in the great lounge waiting for Thomas Whitlock.

The paintings in that great lounge were very expensive, and their frames were golden brown. All the house was themed in shades of brown. She sat there with a book in her hands and a cup of tea beside the sofa on a coffee table. She brewed some tea in the cup and set the teapot aside. She then took a spoon, filled it with sugar, and mixed it with the tea. There was no noise to be heard except the slight clanking of the spoon when it hit the walls of the cup whilst she mixed. The door to the lounge was open, she was busy with her tea when she heard the voice of the footsteps. Thomas entered the area and went to her. She glanced at him with no expression at all. He bowed a little, kissed her forehead, and sat in an armchair next to the sofa.

"Why are you awake at this time at the night Mother?"

"Thomas, why do you do it?" she counter-questioned him.

"What?" though his face clearly told that he knew.

"I've grown old my son. My life has no guarantee. I am afraid to say that I know that if I won't be here, you will not show pity for Ophelia. Be gentle to her my son, she just needs your love. Today I am alive and your attitude towards her is impertinent. God knows what would you do to her if I die. This mere thought haunts me".

"Don't say this mom. You are not going to leave us. Your time hasn't come yet, not yet". It seemed he was convincing himself rather than her.

"How many times should we discuss it? How many times I've told you that?" Her voice was low but still strong enough to have a huge impact on him.

"Mother, just don't please. I beg you, don't bring it up again. You won't be able to understand my stance". Saying this he stood up and left the room. She watched him leave and when she was reminded of her tea it was not in the condition to be sipped.