The note left on the kitchen table the following morning from Inferno gave no mention of when she would be back. It did reaffirm she should not go far from the apartment or be gone too long. This was the first time June didn’t have a clear time frame for Inferno’s return. In June’s mind, she thought three days seemed normal but after four days and still no return, June’s fears grew.
Being homebound was driving her stir crazy and on top of that, all her food was being mysteriously delivered to her door. The first time she heard the doorbell two day after Infernos departure, June had panicked and waited a full thirty minutes before opening the door ajar slightly and peeking out. It was then she discovered the paper bags with groceries and a small note in neat writing saying, ‘hope I got enough of what you need’. The note went unsigned..
The second time June heard the door bell, two day after the first time, she rushed to the door to catch the delivery person but found the foyer empty. Paper bag with groceries on the floor at her feet. June glanced at the lift, the door closed and not indication they were in service. The door to the fire exit remained closed and she couldn’t imagine anyone climbing the seventeen flights of stair up or down to deliver food.
June returned to the apartment with the two bags and with little to and her boredom growing she couldn’t lift her miserable mood. With the latest delivery of groceries the note accompanying them had written, ‘no cupcakes make for wrinkled shirts’.
The bags contained everything June needed to make cupcakes and more.
“I get the hint,” June murmured, removing the ingredients to the table.
“I suppose this means I should get out.”
The cupcakes where a welcomed distraction. Her time in the those fours days had see June reacquainting herself with her power. Her fear of using her power outweighed all other fears, yet there was merit in what Inferno told her and this drove June to reluctantly keep trying. June’s current position meant her safety came first and if she learned how to manage her power, she didn’t need to rely on Inferno. But easier said than done.
June’s frustration at controlling her power produced bouts of depression. If she avoided using her power she avoided the depression. June stared down at the ingredients she’d absentmindedly put in the mixing bowl. The wooden spoon stirred the lumpy mixture and June let out a sigh as she retrieved the electric mixer. As the metal blades whipped up the cake mix June wanted to believe she could be what Inferno wanted her to be.
The electric mixer in her hand began to hear up and June turned it off. Not until she picked up the wooden spoon to give a final stir did she realise heat continued to radiate from her hand. It was only then June stopped and stared at her wrist. She hadn’t noticed the thin red line around her wrist growing warm under her skin and travelling up and down her arm and hand. With her other hand, June rubbed her fingers over the mark but her skin remained cool to touch.
“Odd,” she murmured.
After placing the cupcakes in the oven June returned to her room to change clothes to something warmer and more colour coordinated rather than the lounge clothes she liked to wear around the apartment.
Back in the kitchen, June leaned against the counter watching the timer on the oven. There remained ten minutes and all June needed to do was load then up when done and go. The anticipation in those ten minutes became almost unbearable. June itched to leave the apartment. Unconsciously, June rubbed her arm as her thoughts fell back to her power. No matter how often or hard she tried she could not manage any more than an inch of water around her hands. The struggle exhausted her and she feared she might never master her power.
The sound of the oven beeping drew June from her thoughts. She wouldn’t dwell any more on it. A visit to the laundromat was in order and June couldn’t wait to see her friends.
The cold mid winter afternoon blew a gale through the streets and heavy grey clouds threatened rain. June hugged tight the warm container while keeping her head down less her beanie blow away. Her matching pink scarf flapped around her face and her knee high boots protected her feet from the damp pavement. Upon her arrival at the laundromat, June adjusted her appearance as she entered the building. From behind the counter movement caught her eye but when June glanced that way nothing was there. In the next moment the counter door opened and Mavis appeared a big grin on her face.
“Hello, hello, pretty as a cub. Come sit, show, what’s in that tub.”
June smiled. If anything about her new life she loved more, it was being with Mavis. The older woman made everything rhyme when she spoke and it gave June a warm comfort being with her. Much like all the people June now met, she near little about anyone and that went for Mavis and The Tailor too. It often crossed her mind to enquire yet not when she was in their company. There always seemed to be other topics to talk about.
“Hello Mavis. I made chocolate cupcakes today. Do you and The Tailor have time to share them with me?”
“We do, we do. Let me tell him too.”
Mavis led June to the chairs beside the dryers as she returned behind the counter and onto the platform where she reached for the old dial telephone and called The Tailor down.
From upstairs, there was movement and then footsteps down the stairs before the exit door opened and The Tailor emerged.
“June, my darling. Don’t you look good enough to eat?”
June blushed, before Mavis came back out from behind the counter and said, “Not June, on no. Look, these are the go.”
June held up the container, and The Tailor came forward and took a cupcake.
The cupcakes odour lingered long enough to remove the smell of the laundromat.
“Delightful. You spoil us, June.”
June held out the container to Mavis, who looked at every cupcake, all the same, until she chose one. As she pulled the cupcake out of the container she said to June, “Time you now need. Smoke you must take heed.”
As Mavis bit into her cupcake, June stared, confused by her words. She looked over at The Tailor, to see if he might make any sense of it. As their eyes met, he indicated to June’s wrist. She glanced down at both hands still holding the container when she noticed from her right wrists thin trails off smoke rose. Mavis took the container without a word as June realised Inferno’s mark was smouldering.
Fingers wrapped around the mark, the wisps of smoke floated around her hand.
“What does this mean?” she asked.
“I know,” The Tailor retorted, “Come upstairs with me until it clears. Wouldn’t want anyone to see that.”
The stern manner in which The Tailor spoke confused June and fear crept over her.
She stood to follow The Tailor and passed Mavis, her face appeared grave and a shiver ran through June's body.
“What’s happening?” June asked again as they climbed the stairs. It was difficult now to hide her fear.
But The Tailor did not respond as he held the curtain back and June entered. He took her immediately to the back room and instructed her to sit on the operating table. Panic set in as The Tailor sat down on his stool and wheeled himself over to be in front of June.
“Please remove you coat and show me your wrist please, June?” The Tailor asked.
His tone frightened her but she had to trust him. Her didn’t understand what was happening or why. Jouviodsly, June removed her coat and passed it to The Tailor, who hung it be beside the door. As he turned back he senses June’s anxiety and coming over said, “It will be fine June, but I must examine you. She’s marked you, hasn’t she?”
June nodded, raising the sleeve of her skivvy and showing The Tailor the mark.
“She did it when I agreed to work with her,” June whispered.
“Did she say why she marked you?”
“To protect me.”
The Tailor looked angered but not towards June.
“I should have realised when she brought you here but I didn’t think she would to stoop to such a lowly trick.”
“Trick, what do you mean?” The mark around her wrist grew warmer, and the smoke continued to weave centimetres above.
The Tailor examined June’s wrist, the whole time shaking his head, cursing under his breath. He was frightening June, and she wanted to leave.
“Does it hurt?” he asked.
“No. Not really. It’s warm and getting warmer, I’m sure it will be fine. If I go home and rest; put some ice on it, I’ll be fine.”
“June, you’re not going anywhere. This will get worse before it gets better.”
“No, you’re wrong.” But even as June spoke, she knew she was kidding herself. As the warmth in her wrist was grew so too was the smoke and now as it weaved up her arm, hovering over the surface it began to leave marks on her skin.
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