#marischa

it is the first of the month. a rap at the door. the silver is hard to come by and my frail mother begins to shout. laertes is in his lesson, as ordered by my father who lives his lavish life in the castle. this is how the vision goes. it ends with a slam and a scream.

rarely is it these days that the dreams align so perfectly to reality.

it is the first of the month. a rap at the door.

i have asked my mother to have aunt marischa over. she is the one who answers the door–she is the one who drives the tax collectors away.

my mother is quick to notice how i prickle at the sound of knocking. she looks at me in a way that i have only ever seen her look at my father–with fear.

my father has been keeping something from me. though i do not know him well, it is apparent to me that he has a tell. when he lies, he scratches his ear. 

i know it angers him, but i cannot help it. before i pray on sundays, i ask him of my mother. he grits his teeth, connects his middle finger and his ring finger to his earlobe. 

aunt marischa woke me this morning. it felt like when the dream sticks to me as i wake. when her voice came to me, clear as day rather than the typical muddy dream tone, i hugged her with a fierceness.

she does not answer any questions about my mother. she tells me that i should come live with her instead. she thinks that the castle is no place for someone like me–that i’ll only get hurt by the craziness of the courts. she tells me im much more suited to the sea.

some say that perhaps that is where they took my mother because the sea calms the mind.

i understand. when i’m in the bath, i stay even after the warmth is gone. i crave the pressure in my bones, the envelopment of the water. it is sweet to me. i should ask agathe if she would like to come with me to the lake anytime soon.

aunt marischa has been coming by recently. i have missed her dearly, but being with her hurts my heart. being with aunt marischa reminds me of doing laundry by the river and the smell of mushroom stew wafting in through the windows. having her on my bed as we chat only brings back memories of when she would stay over in mine and laertes’ room with me, and laertes would sleep with my mother in the family room.

agathe and lisbeth have both begun to lecture me. i can only believe they are not teaming up, for the two only interact when they glance at each other in my bedroom. hamlet has visited me three nights in a row. laertes has been awake each time–i tug hamlet in each time i hear laerte’s door handle turn. 

lisbeth tells me to be careful. after i told her of my aunt’s proposition, agathe told me it may be for the best just before she walked off without a word.

could she not want me here? how many nights have we spent together? how many times has she hidden away in my bedroom, on my balcony, in my wardrobe? over and over again, agathe and i have bonded, have we not? countless evenings by the pond and talks over cold tea–and she is willing to give that up?

laertes studies overseas are to begin soon–i suppose i should have seen it coming, what with hamlet’s recent exit as well. 

agathe tells me she has two younger brothers. one slightly younger than i, and another much younger. she brought them with her to the castle when she found work, had married just for the stability of life at elsinore, for stability for her brothers.

i wonder if laertes would ever consider bringing me with him.