gris

April 5th 1889

Diary,

Today Samuel has introduced the family to his lady friend. Her name is Ida Reiziger and she is the most wonderful woman I’ve ever seen. Flaming red hair like the setting sun and the prettiest green eyes like the stems of the nicest flowers.

Mother did not take to her very much, she never takes to any outsiders, really. She said she needed to go lay down shortly after we’d settled into the sitting room. But I, along with Albert, made it known that we appreciated her presence. I smiled, and he stared.

“What do you like to do, Ida?” I asked her.

“I read people’s fortunes.”

“Really? And how does one do that?”

“With my tarot cards.”

I told her I’ve heard of tarot cards before but I wasn't too sure how they worked, and she told me that she would show me later. There was a fluttery feeling in my chest, like a thousand tiny butterflies fluttering about at the promise of a moment alone, just us two.

Then we all looked at Albert, waiting for him to say something, which he didn't. I’m not sure what we expected, Albert hates talking. So, everyone looked at me again.

“Do you have any siblings?”

“I do. Two brothers. Though they live far from here.”

“Oh, lucky you then. I wouldn't mind living away from these two every once in a while.”

She laughed. I’m not sure if it was a polite laugh, yet it was a laugh either way. I had made her laugh.

We continued to talk for hours. At least me, her and Samuel did while Albert watched. At some point, Samuel stood up, saying something about giving Ida a tour of the house, alone. Something within pushed me to stand as well, like I didn't trust Samuel to be alone with her, even if they have probably spent much time together alone before. Even thinking about it now, the feeling returns.

“What a wonderful idea. How about you and I go, Ida, alone.” I told her.

She looked from Samuel to me and back, slowly, surely weighing her options and trying to see who was clearly worthy of spending time alone with her. Thankfully, she turned to me, she chose me. A feeling of triumph came over me. My brothers have always been the ones more visible than I, Samuel with all of his friends and Albert constantly worrying our mother with his behaviour. I’ve always been quieter, less seen, a “proper woman” as my mother would tastefully put it. But now with the three of us all there and Ida, the beautiful woman she was, she chose me to accompany her.

We walked arm in arm as I have her a tour of the home, skipping a few rooms like my brothers’ bedrooms and Albert’s lab. He never allows us to go down there, and I would never. I’m unsure of what freakish things I could find down there.

And finally to impress her, I took her to the backyard to see my garden of flowers. Flowers of all kinds and colours that I’d grown and taken care of for years.

“What a beautiful garden…”

Call me weak, but it was enough for me to officially be head over heels for this woman. “Thank you, Ida.”

We both knelt next to the flowers, taking a closer look at them. Despite my better judgment, I reached out, about to pick a flower for her to have. A woman like her deserved all of my flowers. But her hand went over mine and she stopped me. We stared into each other’s eyes. “Please, do not ruin your garden for me.”

It was as though she’d placed a spell over me, I could only nod. I couldn't argue and tell her how she deserved all these flowers, I couldn't move my hand and defy her words. I could only nod and move my hand back.

She left an hour or so after.

Diary, I think I’m in love. Either that, or I’ve been put under a spell. But it doesn't matter, let her put all the spells she wants onto me, I love her dearly, and can only hope that she would reciprocate the feeling one day.

I must take leave now and rest, my pulse rushing and my face flushing far too much for my body to handle. Today was a wonderful day, diary, believe me.

Goodbye,

Emma.

❀

Spring 1893

Diary,

I know I have neglected you in the past few days, but it was not my intention. Things have happened to me that I still cannot believe happened. I’m normally not the luckiest girl around, but recently I’ve felt on top of the world, as they say.

As unfortunate as it feels, I think Samuel has made up his mind about marrying Ida. I have nothing against either of them, especially Ida. But I am of the opinion that Samuel is far too bland for her. He is my brother, and I love him, but he’s only a carpenter. And not a great one at that, our dining room table is still wobbly no matter how many times he changes the legs. I’ve told him thousands of times before that he should change professions, but he is a stubborn man.

While I don’t believe Samuel and Ida are meant to be, it's very nice to see her around the house very often. She stays for dinner, or visits us out of the blue. Yes, I say us because she does not only visit Sam, but visits me as well. It's always the greatest of surprises when she comes around.

I’m getting carried away now. All of this is to say that for the first time ever, Ida has stayed the night at the house. I am still not sure how Samuel convinced mother, but I am happy that he had. Especially because mother, of course, added a last minute rule once we were all sat fo supper.

“You two may not sleep in your bedroom, Samuel. The girl has to sleep some place else.” She said, tilting her chin up like she always did when she thought that she won something.

Samuel looked stunned, staring at mother in shock, and anger. “Well where is she supposed to sleep? We have no guest room since you’ve turned it into your study.”

“She can sleep in my room.” I offered quickly, before the opportunity went away.

Diary, you should have seen the glare Albert sent my way. If I need a laugh, I just think about his ugly face glaring at me over this. He’s quite the jealous man with his eyes set on Ida, our brother’s friend of all people. Yet he’s too strange for her to want to be with him, and he’s a boy. Meaning he could never connect as deeply as her and I could.

“Emma, no, she can sleep in my room. Mother, we’re adults.” Samuel argued.

“No, absolutely not. The girl will stay in Emma’s room for the night. And that is that.” Mother decided, going back to her food and not letting anyone argue any further.

Samuel deflated in his seat. But I just looked at Ida, giving her a reassuring smile because I’d do anything for her to have a good night.

After dinner, I showed Ida to my room. She looked around without saying a word and I became afraid that she wouldn't like it. So I busied myself by preparing the bed.

“You can have my pillow. It’s brand new, and the feathers inside make it as soft as ever. And I’ll take my old pillow.” I went to my closet, taking out my old, beat up pillow and a few blankets, putting them on the bed.

She was watching me. “We are sharing the bed..?”

“Of course we are. We are ladies, we cannot sleep on the floor.” I slowly approached her and took her hand. I had not taken her hand in so long, but they were just as soft and warm as I remembered them. “And we are both women, sharing a bed is fine.”

Something in her eyes shifted, nervousness to confidence, insecurity to warmth. She looked away, laughed and nodded. “Of course, how have I not thought of this before…”

Later on, we were laying in my bed. It was dark, only one lit candle on my bedside table since we weren't asleep yet. I think there were stars in the night sky. We were lying so close to on another, I could feel her warmth beside me. It was comforting, the kind of warmth you feel when you’re taking a bath or sitting by the fire. The kind you get used to.

We both turned to look at each other at the same time, like an instinct. “Tell me, Emma. Have you thought of marriage yet?” She asked as casually as one asks about the weather.

“Oh no, marriage is not for me. I prefer my flowers. Men don’t understand flowers like we do.”

“But you must have suitors?” She asked me immediately after.

“A few, I don’t know, I don’t pay them much attention…”

“So have you ever kissed anyone before?”

A silence settled between us. She was looking at me, part of her face grazed by the candle’s glow, the other darkened by my shadow. It made her look so serious, and I must have looked so lost.

“Well, of course I have.”

“Have you ever kissed a woman?”

The rest of the moment became a blur. Either we spoke out loud, or our eyes were enough to do all the talking. But the next thing I knew, we were both leaning in, our lips meeting in the middle.

I’d never felt like this before, my body melting against hers. In this moment, we were one. An entity of desire and dare I say love.

When we eventually pulled away, she smiled at me and said “Good night, Emma,” before turning around and falling asleep.

She was not there when I woke up in the morning. But her presence remained. It had engrained in my bed, her lips leaving residue on mine. All around and inside of me I could feel her.

Diary, perhaps she will marry Samuel. But I will know that what we could’ve had was much more special.

Goodbye,

Emma.

❀

Fall 1894

Diary,

The doctor comes bi-monthly now, something is wrong with me but he says he does not know exactly what it could be. Mother worries a lot, I see her sweat sometimes. Yet sometimes she acts like she doesn't care, she shows me the cold shoulder. Mothers are complicated sometimes.

I was tending to the flowers outside when I noticed something strange. From a tree branch, there was a small doll hanging there. It was made of a rough cloth with two blue buttons for eyes, the rope that was attached to the tree was tied around its neck like a noose. Immediately I knew whose it was.

I ripped it from the branch and returned to the house, making my way down to Albert’s lab, which he had transformed into his bedroom.

“Albert. You must not leave your creepy dolls lying about. Mother will mock you, you know.” I told him, putting the doll on his table.

On the table also stood a framed picture of Ida, which I took and brought closer to see. “What is this..?”

Albert stood from his chair, crossed the lab in very few steps and snatched the frame from my hands. “Do not touch. This is none of your business.”

“You have a framed picture of our brother’s fiancée?”

“Shut it, I will strike you.” He said, his face growing redder by the second. He could have made a rose bush jealous.

“You will not. Mother would never let you get away with it.” I told him, snatching back the photo of the beloved. I wish I could have called her my beloved, but she had chosen Samuel after all, and it seemed Albert and I were in the same boat when it came to her.

Albert chewed on his bottom lip for a moment. “Always a mommy’s girl, aren't you? I wonder what she'd think if I told her what I saw last year. You and Ida. In your room.”

My blood ran cold, for a moment I thought he meant that he had seen the kiss. But then again, my door had been closed, no one should have seen it. But then he said something about the bed sharing, he had only seen us sharing a bed, which was far better. But our mother would have been quite disturbed by it.

“Are you threatening me, Albert? Or are you just jealous?”

He snatched the framed picture of Ida and threw it at the wall, the glass shattered and spread out on the floor. He was jealous.

“If you know what’s good for you, Emma, you’ll stay away from her.”

His words made me laugh right in his face. “As if Ida would actually choose you over me, or Samuel even. I’ve been much closer to her than you’ll ever be.”

Albert mumbled something which sounded like “we’ll see.” I didn't bother, I just turned on my heels and went back upstairs.

It was hilarious to see Albert like this. Usually so calm and composed, not all bent out of shape. Red like a tomato. About to burst out int a fit like he did when we were younger. I still can’t believe a boy like him could ever be related to me.

And, diary, I must admit that it was nice to have the upper hand. Perhaps I could not be like Samuel, for Ida could not marry a woman, my mother wouldn't allow it. But I knew that some part of her still breathed within me, and that if I could not have her in real, I could have a piece of her soul with me.

Goodbye, Emma.

❀

February 1896

Diary,

My health condition has gotten worse. The doctor comes to the house every single day, perhaps he should think about living here. There are few things that bring me joy, like the flowers. I see her tend to the flowers sometimes. I am unsure if she knows that I know, she’s never brought it up, so I never bring it up.

Sometimes I watch her from my window. She leaves her tent to tend to my flowers. She never cuts them, never pulls them out of the earth. She just cares for them.

The doctor suggests a wellness retreat. He says that a few weeks away to a cabin, fishing, could do me any good. I’ve never fished before and I don’t intend on starting now. My mother has strongly disagreed with it as well. My problems should not he put out in the open for all but the doctor to see.

Besides, fishing is now how I want to spend what little time I know I have left. I just want to see her. She’s married to Sam now, they are happy. I cannot be too happy for them, my heart and soul aches for her and therefore cannot be appeased. I hurt and yearn for her.

Dear Bob,

I hope this letter finds you well. I’m sorry for the way I’ve been with you as of late, I feel as though I should explain myself.

Ever since I was a little girl, I knew there was something wrong with me.

I’d often get this strange feeling, the feeling of having two hearts inside of my chest, beating in tandem. The feeling of always having someone lurking behind me, watching, guiding my every move. The feeling that I was never alone, even when my mother was out and the only people in the house were me and the dog.

I couldn't explain it, I still can’t. I would tell my mother about seeing someone in the corner of my eye, hearing breathing other than my own in an empty room. My mother would only look at me, worried, then would try to reassure me that, no, there wasn't anyone else but the two of us. But I know what I heard, and I still do.

Then, there was the nightmares. It would be like I was in the shoes of a body much larger than myself, as though it had swallowed me. I could see what it saw, but I could not move. I could open my mouth, but no sound other than garbled noises escaped me.

The nightmares began after my mother had disappeared. Like the presence I had always felt around me grew stronger now that she was gone. It scared me, Bob, I was so afraid.

I would see children fighting each other, a hive falling on the sickly boy’s face. And the screams, they stuck with me even after I’d wake. But the body I was stuck inside, it would do nothing to prevent any of this. In fact, it would help the people I’d see, even when what they were doing was terrible.

And finally, the hallucinations.

I’m not too sure when it all started, only when I was older of course. I would see a well and hear a little boy’s scream echo from it. Yet when I’d look, nothing would be there at all. Or when I’d see a tent and a woman with red hair would be reading people their fortunes. Only I would blink and the tent would transform into a telephone booth.

The worst of all was one day, I returned to my mother’s old home, seeking answers to where she could have gone. Though all I found was a strong, somber presence. Yet it was alive, a heart or two beating from below.

Then suddenly, I opened one of the few doors that were unlocked, and I found her. My mother. Though she was far too young, a child even. It was strange to see my mother as a child, it was even stranger to see her using a board to communicate with spirits.

For some reason, when she spoke, it felt as though she was speaking to me.

“Can you hear me?”

“Yes.” I’d reply.

“What is your name?”

“William.” The name had slipped, from my mouth yet not my tongue. I did not know a William, nor had I ever heard of one. Yet the name seemed far too familiar.

“What do you want?”

“To live.”

The door slammed shut in my face, as though an angry gust of wind wanted to prevent me from ever seeing my mother again.

The guilt of how I have been with you lately seeped under my skin, incrusted itself in my nails, making it seem as though it only happened mere moments ago. I cannot bear to see your eyes again, in fear of finding something other than love in your gaze. At least until I am sure you can one day forgive me. And so I am writing in hopes of explaining myself, in hopes that you can still love me despite all that is wrong with me.

I remember the other day clearly, you were early at the cafe, and you were waiting for me. It seems as though it's your favourite thing, to sit and wait for me, yet I always feel late even when I myself am early as well.

You hugged me, tightly, and we sat, ordering our usual things. I remember we talked about the sky, the birds that roamed free while we were confined to the land, unable to fly. You told me, perhaps it wad a joke, that you wished you had wings.

Something inside of me was wrong at that moment, very wrong. Inside my cup, the coffee had turned green. I looked up at you, yet you were no longer there. Instead, an older gentleman sat, a twinkle in his eye, a small cup with a similar green mixture in his.

“You drink first, brother.”

That man wanted me dead. He knew that drinking the elixir would kill me, or maybe he hoped it would. I sat frozen, staring at the man, all too familiar with this event. He was no brother of mine, he was a traitor, he wanted eternal life for himself despite all the help I put into the work for the elixir.

It was then that I yelled, “You will not fool me again!”, and perhaps I had really yelled. The man stood up, but your face was peaking through his, like it was your turn to be swallowed by a strange body. “You are no brother of mine, no brother!”

I felt a hand on my shoulder, was it yours? Please assure me it was not you, because I did slap it quite harshly before standing up and rushing out of the cafe. I could not stand being there much longer, the looming presence that had always been around me loomed even harder. And the twinkling eyes of the man, I did not trust.

I only looked back once, and you were staring at me so sadly. I was sure my heart had broken then, or maybe it will break if you tell me you no longer wish to see me. My mind will understand, my heart will not.

I hope you will forgive me.

Sending all my love,