life was sweet

AND I FEEL IT ALL COMIN’ DOWN BECAUSE

one moment of ambrosia’s childhood stuck out like a sore thumb, sitting by the fireplace as the rest of the family bustled around their grand plantation home. “sometimes,” when her uncle spoke from his comfortable place in the armchair, fourth glass of whiskey in hand. “it’s just about playing poor hands well.” she didn’t understand poker or gambling, hell. she barely understood good and poor. but she could tell from the look on her poor uncle’s face that he had never taken his own advice.

her hands, unlike her uncle’s, were planned out from beginning to end by her mother. she spent a set amount of time practicing her piano, writing in latin, and reading her bible. when her mother told her to, she appeared in the salon and sat while all of the ladies drank tea. she was to be seen and not heard after all, so she didn’t make a peep.

old money came with plenty of rules that she was keen on following. she walked the straight and narrow path to please her parents and those around them, with a father who was profiting off of the tobacco industry and a mother who held more socials than family dinners? plenty of eyes were always watching in the south.

SHE SAID IN MY HEART AND IN MY HEAD

finishing school had always been in the plan, and she got through it. they didn’t send her too fa, just up north to new york (and her cousins had gone to paris! by comparison it was night and day). a few students happened to be a bad influence. it was one of her first encounters with people her own age. as soon as she found herself getting comfortable, having fun…she was ripped away from it, as all girls were. it was the next step she was expected to take in her life anyhow.

eighteen was not exactly when ambrosia thought she would be getting married, but one of her father’s coworkers had a son that was absolutely delightful according to her mother. there was barely even a second between her time at home and her marriage to the man, and she wasn’t even upset about it.

it wasn’t as if he was a complete stranger. he had been around the house when she was home for holidays. he was kind, pious, and didn’t condescend her. he was the happy medium between the constricting rules at home and the overwhelming freedom at school.

TELL ME WHY THIS HAS TO END, OH NO

this was even more true when he told her his true dream: running a confectionery store in new york. amrbosia had never been one for running, but only a year after their marriage did they run off to that city up north. back to where she felt most at home all those years in finishing school.  it wasn’t the ideal place to build a family, but they did it. “things will get better,” she told her husband.

the little shop was nestled among plenty of others, and they lived happily. they proudly hung temperance movement posters in their window as their son toddled about the store. it was a small operation, but an operation nonetheless. ambrosia, even far from home, stuck to the values her family had taught her without them breathing down her neck.

after five years of marriage, ambrosia felt like she was living on top of the world. that was until her husband fell ill. no doctor they could afford was able to diagnose him, much less cure him.

months later, lying in bed, he held on to ambrosia’s hand. “remember when you told me things would get better?” he said hoarsely. their child was already tucked into bed, and the rest of the house was quiet. ambrosia wishes she would have said something at that moment, but instead she just hushed him as he fell asleep for the last time.

I CAN’T SAVE US, LIKE ATLANTIS WE FALL

she thought his family may have been a little more understanding or empathetic. she thought hers would be a little more supportive. ambrosia’s mother and father did not bother coming to visit, and his parents only came for a moment to attend his funeral and collect anything they deemed worth value. when they saw what an utter mess the place was, they only took her child.

it was for the best, although she didn’t know it at the time. ambrosia couldn’t run the shop by herself, nor did she have any desire to leave it. after months, she managed to attend church and her book club, but the doors to honeydukes stayed firmly shut.

it was only in the past year that she opened the back ones, letting the crime she once detested right into her own backyard.