She figured a good pot roast, chicken stew, mashed potatoes, fresh vegetables, baked squash, two pies and a fresh loaf, the usual suspects would do for the dinner. It wasn’t Thanksgiving but it certainly felt like she was cooking a holiday meal. Still, it would get her out of cooking for that holiday as well as maybe getting the visit out of the way for a few months longer.
Preperation took the longest with so many vegetables to chop, apples to cut, dough to make. The most intensive recipe was for the pumpkin pie, because the canned filling always tasted funny to her. She made it the old-fashioned way – slicing the pumpkin, steaming it, mashing it in a hot pan to take out some of the water, only then mixing in the spices, brandy, brown sugar and egg. It was time consuming, but it was totally worth the effort. Especially when presented with lots of sweetened whipped cream.
By 5PM everything had been done apart from the cooking. Micah had blind-baked the pie crust, browned the pot roast and was just reboiling chicken bones she’d taken from the freezer when the phone in the hallway chirrupted. Turning the burner down, she quickly wiped her hands on a tea towel and ran to answer. “Hello?”
“Micah, it’s your Grandmother.”
“Oh, hi. What can I do you for?” she asked, knowing how much Cecilia hated the colloqialism.
“Dear, I was wondering if I should bring anything, wine? Champagne? Liquer?”
Ah. “No, that’s okay. I’ve got wine to mull later on, plus juice, milk, and cider. I think we’re all set, unless you wanted to bring any brandy for Gregor.”
“Yes, I think that’s a good idea. Your grandfather loved a good brandy, and it’s so good to see Gregor taking after him.”
Sure it was good. Because nothing was so good as seeing your alcoholic son switch poisons. “I’ve got to get back to the stove, Cecilia.”
“Yes, yes. Alright, we’ll see you in an hour or so, bye bye.”
“Bye,” Micah disconnected, wanting to slam her head against the wall. It was only one meal, she would survive it. Damn it.
Nonetheless, when the family began to roll in, she found herself on edge, which was ridiculous. She was on home territory, surrounded by the things she had grown up with, there was little reason to fear, she could always ask them to leave instead of going off in a huff by herself. It was just the pressure of them all at once. Apart from her mother, she’d never been particularly close to her family, not even her sisters. She liked Sarah and Toby well enough, yet they were no more than familiar strangers at best.
Dinner was a success. Replete with good food, the little kids put to bed, Micah and the other adults lounged in the living room, comfortable on the sofas and chairs in front of the fireplace. She took advantage of the early gloom and went around the room, sparking tea lights and hurricane lamps until a soft glow lit the room. Done, she flopped on the cream chintz sofa next to Sarah and her primary husband, Duane.
Sarah was cuddled tightly up to Duane but still reached around him to pat Micah on the leg. “You did a great job, littlest sister.”
Micah smiled tiredly, then abruptly gave a huge yawn. “Sorry, thanks. It might not sound like it, but I do love to cook.”
“So we can tell,” said Peter jovially from the couch to the left. “You’re going to turn into even fatter if you don’t watch it.”
“Dad,” moaned Sarah. “Leave her alone, she’s fine the way she is.”
Maybe if she weren’t so tired Micah would have licked her wound in private, maybe if she hadn’t had glasses of wine before, during, and after dinner she would have been more circumspect, but at the moment she just didn’t care what she said or how it sounded. “Fuck you, buddy.”
“Micah! I will not hear that kind of language in this house!” exclaimed Cecilia, sitting up straight in her chair with a glare.
Micah snorted. “Y’know this isn’t your house, right? Or that to be honest, I really don’t care what you think of me?” She sat up as well, pointed one finger at her Uncle. “Look, I’ve been hearing that sort of comment from him since I don’t know when and I’m tired of it, damned tired of it. I don’t know what his problem is, I don’t care, I just want his stupid little sayings to stop, and if being rude is the only way I can do that, so be it.”
Cecilia sneered and shook her head. “Just like your mother.”
Toby stood up, holding up both hands and glancing from Micah to their grandmother. “Okay, that’s enough, we all get it. Grandma, you’re going to keep your opinions to yourself for the rest of the evening and Peter, you’re going to do the same. I have to agree with Micah, you’ve made your feelings clear about the way she looks for as long as I can remember, and I’m ten years older than she is, which means it’s pretty much been happening since she was born. Part of her gene pool is just a little different from ours, no big whoop.”
“Whatever,” muttered Micah. “I’m going to bed.”
And so passed the family dinner, ending only slightly different from those previous. She was a little pissed at herself for falling into the same old trap, for still running away, even if it was in her own house. However, the deed was done. She’s spoken her piece, although not in the calm discussion she both imagined and hoped for. Gods knew she certainly wasn’t going to lose anyone’s respect, if anything, she might gain a little. She’d be on Sarah’s shitlist, not that that was anything new. Toby’d be alright. Despite both of them growing up more or less under Cecilia’s tutelage while Anna had been…gone, and though Toby was the younger, she seemed to be able to see through the mind games of her side of the family.
In the late morning, Micah woke to a pounding headache and a sour stomach. Looking out the window, judging by the cast of the shade from the surrounding trees, she could see that the sun was nearly overhead. What was more, after she used the toilet, wrapped a robe around herself and stumbled down stairs, she realized that the house was completely silent. After wandering into the kitchen and drinking a glass of water, and then another glass to rehydrate as rapidly as possible, she pondered eating something light. Heaving herself off the chair, she went to the fridge and was about to open the door when she saw the note stuck on the front with a maple leaf magnet.
Micah -
We felt bad about what happened last night. Alec
suggested we clean up for you, and that’s what
we’ve done. Leftovers are in the fridge (hope
you aren’t too hung over) and I set the coffee
to start at noon o’ clock. Alice and Bear say
goodbye and hope to see you at either Thanksgiving
or Christmas. Alec and I plan on staying home,
and you and Anna are more than welcome to join
us for the feasting! (and in light of what’s
occurred, isn’t it for the best?)
Give us a call and let us know.
Love
Toby and Alec and Bear and Alice
Good to know she’d kept one family member out of the bunch. The aroma of freshly brewing coffee attracted her attention and made her stomach grumble at the same time. There was only one cure besides a lot of water, and it was a good breakfast. Although they were convenient, she didn’t fancy leftovers and had to cook from the very beginning. Fried eggs and toast, beans and sausage, bacone, half a grilled tomato. By the time she had resettled in the sun room with her cup and plate she was feeling more settled and content. The headache had started to lift with a third glass of water, and her stomach less queasy once she’d swallowed the first bite of toast.
Which left her wondering what to do with the remainder of the day. The dishes were done, the guest bedrooms tidy, there wasn’t even a stray hair in the guest bathroom sink. The one thing she needed to do as soon as she was finished with her breakfast was check for messages. The Institute hadn’t contacted her yet and she’d left the coffin with them for a week. Usually she heard from then within a day or two…curious.
There wasn’t much she could do for the Sugar. She’d already bought fresh supplies, updated a couple of systems, flushed the recycling system, changed scrubbers as necessary, added a couple more sets of spares of this and that. Now all that remained was to look for work outside the Institute. Which, in essence, pretty much gave her her plan for the day when she thought she hadn’t had one.
When she finally did check her messages, there was only the one from the jobs boards, and that was for a desultory level of pay. Besides which, it was nothing more than a milk run for spoiled brats, and she’d had enough of them in her lifetime thank you very much.
On the other hand, a day off wouldn’t go amiss, either. Micah chose to relax and reread Jane Eyre for her afternoon entertainment. She took a walk, made dinner from leftovers, watched a couple of dramas, called a couple of friendly acquaintances and caught up on the town gossip, made plans to meet Alan and Eddie for brunch. Overall, the kind of day most people wouldn’t give much thought about. You could do the same on a ship, it wasn’t the same, though. You couldn’t laze with the constant hum of a ship’s engines, or when there was a chance an alarm would go off at any minute.
Ah well, fun and good while it lasted.
FIVE:
The dreams were the same, yet different. The worst part was that she knew she was dreaming, she dreamt all the time, literally. She was fatigued both physically and mentally. There was no rest, though she knew she was sleeping. Movement, the dreams were all movement. She ran, she walked, she swam, sometimes she flew. And then there were the passages where she left the earth, traveled above the birds and the clouds, past the moons and the sun and other worlds she had known existed without ever being taught such.
Leila wanted to wake up. She remembered the details of her capture with startling clarity. The man – she’d dreamed them their truth – the man had been as startled as she after she rounded the Uncle tree, but had thought quickly and taken her before she had a chance to express her own opinion. The funny thing was, if he’s but asked, she might have gone with him willingly. The witch had encouraged her curiosity as her mother had, in her wish for her only girl child to do the expected, discouraged it. Now she had had her fill and more.
In any case, the man, his name was Pir, had tried to hide her, telling the people he lived with that her box was filled with plant samples. Pir’s ship was unlike any of the ones she had seen on the great river. It moved between worlds in the void rather than from town to town, working with unbeliveable energies, the hearts of small suns. His companions were naturally suspicious, wanting to see the goods he’d brought from her unnamed world. The more he tried to keep them away, the more they wanted to see what was in the box.
With a nervous smile he’d finally given in, hoping against hope they would see only the top layer of plants, not the inner container Leila was stored in. His shipmates were greedy for information, however, as he was the only one allowed down onto new worlds. They quickly pulled out the top, exclaiming over the white pricker and bitter water vine, boy’s creeper and bird’s tongue. Pir tried to slip out of the room – the cargo hold – when they got to her box, but Vunti noticed and held him fast by his arms. After they opened her box they drew back, expressions of disbelief and anger on their faces. Some argued to send her back, but then two agreed with Pir to bring her to their home and there was a stalemate. They closed her box but it was too late, she knew them now.
The witch would have been proud of her. She had become open to the underworld in a way she had never even considered, had never even contemplated, had never thought of.
Leila decided to wander. The ship was open and there was nothing better for her do, so she wandered. From Pir she understood that the ship was small, cramped, even, though there were only seven on board in total. She discovered that her species, a recent variation of his own…no, they were the same species, but different, his was larger or hers smaller…for his race, then, the space was cramped. For people her size, it wasn’t spacious, but a couple of more people could have fit in without too much stress. He didn’t like the shipwife, Oivi, the only woman on board, but she was necessary for his health and well-being. Besides Oivi, the other five men on board were a mix, scientists, whom she understood were like the witch, but focussed on the middle and upper worlds, and those taking care of the ship (which was old, but sturdy and full of use), captain and crew. Oivi was a shipwife in truth, fulfilling the duties of a wife to all of the men on this particular ship, or perhaps for this particular crew, Leila didn’t know, Oivi’s truth was mixed and boiling like a flood.
What the ship did was travel to worlds and collect information. The point was for the ship to find what was desirable and acquire it, then sell it back home. Sounded like it could be fun, but the crew was plainly fatigued after having traveled for years and years and years. Apparently they did not get much appreciation from their coworkers or the people they worked for, who considered them unimportant. Leila didn’t really understand what that meant, yet the anger and longing for home came through quite clearly.
So, when Pir and the men who had agreed with him, Mander and Ralt, alternatively bludgeoned or strangled the other three men of the crew, she wasn’t surprised. Horrified, shrieking inside of her own skull, trying desperately to think of anything else, to dream of home or the space outside, Leila could ony watch helplessly and hope the same fate wasn’t in store for her.
And knowing Pir’s truth so intimately, she couldn’t help but follow him into his laboratory. He frowned, and muttered under his breath, his thoughts sticky and sick. He began by freezing, then crushing the bird’s tongue, steeping all of it in the smallest amount of hot water, making sure to cover the bowl to collect the steam. It was no different than if she were making a tisane, except she knew that he knew that bird’s tongue was poison, and that concentrated amounts of it would be enough to kill several people. It wasn’t tasteless by any means, she knew that only too well, for the witch had made Leila taste everything she created, no matter what the effect intended upon the targeted person. The bad part was that she frequently became ill after testing her own creations. The good part was that after repeated exposures she had built up some resistance.
Oivi got sick first. Being a woman and the shipwife, her first thought was that her birth control had failed and that she was pregnant. Many of the symptoms were the same, the aversions to food and smells, the nausea, the dizzyness, the pains in the belly. Mander was disgusted by the prospect of a squalling infant on board and did his best to convince her to take something for what they all thought was the tiny baby inside her. Pir made a point of poisoning him next by adding the juice of a fish he’d discovered on a previous world. Unfortunately for Mander, he died within a few days, raving about ghosts and the girl in the box and how she was haunting his dreams, cursing him for ever removing her from her own world. Leila was surprised, she didn’t think anyone could see her. Although when she thought about it, he had been in her dreams, he had looked straight at her more than one time.
Now they were all scared. Old wives stories, creatures from thei own stories of the underworld, the deaths of their fellow crewmates…it all preyed upon them, driving them further from good health and closer to the most chaotic parts of the underworld. The witch had been very specific in making sure Leila avoided those places, saying only that it wasn’t time, she wasn’t strong or sure enough for her to visit them. Yet. Well, she was getting the education now. What was worse, the witch had been right. She wasn’t sure enough in her own abilities. If anything, it was becoming increasingly plain that she would be lucky to escape this experience not only with her life, but with her sanity intact. The witch had never given instruction as to what she was to do if she ever found herself in such places. Leila would just have to trust her instincts and gut.
Oivi succumbed next, puking in the toilet so much that eventually, yes, she began to throw up blood and other matter as her intestines dissolved. Which left Pir and Ralt playing a vicious game of hide and seek with death as the prize.
They made it easy. Hard, but easy. Hard, because once again she had to sit through it all, the blood and the shit and the mess. Easy, for they killed one another, dying in the same small room, staring at each other as they panted out their last.
She was left to dream. Others came, took what they wanted from the ship, left. Once, twice, people came and tried to run the ship, removing the bodies and washing the decks. Leila wanted to be alone, though, she’d had enough of strangers and their ugly thoughts. Mander had accused her of stalking him, and now she purposely did so. The crews left, the ship shut itself down, it drifted…until a woman came aboard, and Leila stopped running in her dreams. She was on the bluff again, staring at the clouds, listening to her mother call her home for dinner.
