Sixth word

These memories are fragmented, they’ve given you the impression that they were consecutive, when the reality is that they happened over a number of years. This next one wasn’t long after the last as only a week had passed. I apologized to Fati- to this day I don’t know why I did. I wanted the best for her, I truly believed that she was capable of change.

The problem was that she had no interest in changing. Without said interest, it would never happen.

I loved her dearly, and despite his shortcomings, I loved Valkom as well. My love for them differentiated and I had never sat down to dissect it. My love for Valkom never blinded me from his faults. He was like family, which was peculiar because I had known Fati for about as long, and I… didn’t see her as a sister. I didn’t want her to be.

I wanted to be her everything- I wanted to protect her, give her all she desired, make her happy, make her whole. I didn’t understand how because I was only 17 at the time. Suppressed, behind a door I dare not open, I knew why. 

The night began with that brief interruption, “Lady Liorit, you have a visitor.”

I found the announcement odd, the household staff always let Fati in. On her own, she would come straight away to my father’s study, where I spent most of my time. If it was not her at the door the only other person who ever visited was Valkom, who had the tendency to come and go as he pleased. I knew him to be away on business at the time so it couldn’t be him either. 

I rose and went out onto the mezzanine. Over the balcony, standing under the downstairs entrance stood the visitor, it was Chaya.

For once, she wasn’t in a tacky gown. She had a raincoat on as it was raining out, thrown over a plain green dress. Over her shoulder, she had a small bag that she was trying to pat dry with her sleeve.

“Your highness,” I greeted, promptly making my way down the stairs, “What can I do for you?”

She began to slip out of her coat and a staff member rushed to her side to take it from her. She thanked him and then turned her attention to her bag, disappointed at the state of its contents. 

“I didn’t think this through, I brought spare clothes but they’re also soaked,” she laughed.

“I’ll have Glenda hang them to dry.” 

Glenda, our head housekeeper, sharp as ever, was already taking the bag from her. Her comment brought my awareness to the state of her dress, also soaked through. 

I added, “Come, I’ll find you something to wear.”

She trotted up the stairs behind me, apologizing first for the mess and second for the inconvenience. I assured her that it was not, the rain had been rather unexpected for the time of year. She said earlier that she brought spare clothes, meaning she anticipated having to change,  so she had left her rooms after the rain started. I’d ask her about it after we resolved the attire situation. 

Up the stairs and in my room, I pulled open my wardrobe. I couldn’t give her pants, I was taller than her. I had been her size at some point- albeit probably never as toned as her, a champion of physical combat. If there was nothing in my wardrobe, surely somewhere in the wing we would find garments that fit her. 

We lucked out when I found a tunic that was either mine from when I was younger, or Fati’s, from when we would get ready for events together.

“This should fit,” I said, handing it to her. Glenda, on top of things, brought her a dry towel. We told her that we would wait outside, and she continued to thank us profusely from the other side of the door. 

She knocked on it when she was done changing, promptly poking her head out. She hung the dress she changed out of on a chair and began to wring out her hair with the towel.

“I sent for tea.” I said, “There’s a fire going in my father’s office, if you prefer to stay here I can get someone to start one here.” I still had no idea what brought her to my door in the first place, or what could be worth going outside in such weather. 

“I didn’t mean to intrude. If you were in the middle of something, you can go back to that.” She glanced at the windows, the rain was coming down harder and thunder roared in the distance, “Valkom is out and I- thunderstorms- make me restless. Silly, being from a colony of travelers you’d think I’d grown out of that. Regardless, I only wanted company till it blew over.”

I considered the short time we had known each other, how I didn’t think I was company entertaining enough for someone of her status. Then I remembered what Valkom told her on her first visit. 

“I don’t know anyone else here.” Her voice was soft, she carried the weight of the sentiment in a meek smile.

I decided that I could bring what I was working on into my room as there was a table in the room. “I’ll be right back.

I returned with my notes. Prior to her arrival, I was translating some documents for my father. Nearing the last couple of pages, I didn’t foresee it taking long to wrap it up. But if Chaya didn’t wish to be alone, I wasn’t going to leave her on her own. The fire was going in the fireplace when I returned and the tray with tea was on my table. She sat in one of the chairs by my bookshelves, far across from the windows, watching the rain in the distance, holding her own cup of tea in her hands.

“Do you need anything else?” I offered, “I can send for food if you’re hungry.”

“I’m alright, thank you Liorit,” she assured me.

I focused once more on my work, and as I neared the last page she wandered over to the table. She set down her empty cup on the tray, then stilled when she caught a glimpse of the notes I was taking. There was nothing remotely interesting about what I was doing.

“Your penmanship is remarkable.” She shifted her gaze from my notes and met mine, “They’ve really made you into the perfect person, haven't they?”

The comment surprised me, “I wouldn't say so.”

She nodded, the parts of her black hair that were dry now moving with her, “Of course you wouldn’t. You always speak so… impartially. Do you have a strong opinion about anything? Or are you truly indifferent?”

“I can have strong opinions even if I don’t voice them.”

Stepping closer, she squinted, “I… don’t believe you. What’s something you feel strongly about?”

I opened my mouth but the words got lost in the promptness of her question.

She frowned, disheartened, “They’ve broken you.” Her sudden sadness brought out a heartache within me, “I apologize, I didn’t mean to put you on the spot there. I hope you do have things that you are passionate about.”

I set my pen down, “You’re right, I don’t allow myself to feel strongly about things, and I... don’t know how to do that.”

She glanced at my notes, “Do you truly wish to be working on this right now? What would you be doing if you weren’t doing this now and I wasn’t here?”

Reading the books my father sent me was the answer, although that’s not the answer she wanted, I knew that much. “I would eat deserts in bed,” I smiled mischievously, as if that was the most scandalous idea I could muster.

She scooted the papers in front of me off to the side and grinned, “Let’s do that then.” 

The warmth in her eyes alone were enough to convince me. I had never pushed the boundaries of anything, and couldn’t fathom it being that simple. Was that all it took? To take order, and disrupt it?

We called for Glenda and not much later, I sat happily on my bed, eating custard filled pasties. Chaya stood in front of the fire, barefooted and charading different well-known members from the Court.

“My moustache is shaped not with wax but the grease from all the meat pies I require. At every event, big or small!” She twirled a fake moustache, then stomped in a circle, “I also walk like there is an earthquake I must be a-causing!”

“Oh! Davren from House Tirke!” I exclaimed, “Yeah, I don’t know how he can be so heavy footed for someone so small.”

She clapped and beamed, “Seriously! Alright your turn,” she grabbed the plate of pastries from my lap and flopped onto the bed.

I dusted the crumbs from my nightshirt onto the floor, then jumped to my feet. Lowering my voice, I pretended to hold a shotgun,“Okay, c’mon Prince Valkom! The weather is tea! Let’s go hunting,” I pointed to one of the chairs, “Look, a deer! Let me get it!” I pointed my imaginary gun in the opposite direction, “Ah! It moved too fast! It’s not definitely not anything I did!”

Chaya bit her lip and snapped her fingers, “Ah! I can’t remember his name! Valkom was going off about his lousy aim the other day… the big beefy one with the strangely silent wife!”

“Oh you haven’t heard? I’m surprised Valkom didn’t mention it- this is actually one of my favorite pastimes too…” I walked over to my dresser and grabbed two newspapers off it, opened them to the classifieds and set them down on the bed between us, “ but I heard that the reason his wife is so weird is because he found her in the paper. There’s a whole page in the back of the classifieds dedicated to this, and it’s usually reserved for the lower class, which is why it was a whole scandal when he got married. I like to read them because they’re quite amusing, I feel horrible for laughing but-”

“No, let us laugh!” She leaned over the paper eagerly.

I smoothed the paper down, scanning its contents, “Listen to this one, ‘Strung humble man (45) lookin fer a lovelie lassie to bear his seedlings, must be a woman of God, a beautie, and pure as our Lord requires thee. Dowrie must be at leest 348 Bejs’,’' I read.

She snorted mid-sentence, but waited for me to finish before commenting, “To bear his what!? And 348 Bejs is such a specific number? Why?”

I read another, “‘Looking for a LOYAL, and COMMITTING woman, harlots need NOT apply.’”

“Harlots need not apply!?” She smiled incredulously, “Are women allowed to write one of these? I kind of want to!”

I turned the page, “Yeah they’re less common but there is a couple, ‘Mournful widow, in search of a hard working, loyal husband. 5 kids. Willing to part with 1.’”

“What!?” She clasped her hands over her mouth, I was enjoying her reactions, “I can’t believe these are real!”

“There are some serious ones, some of them are even sweet, ‘My heart is big and willing to love any woman regardless of her flaws, as long as yee are able to see past the scars of a life-long cripple. Can cook and is tidy. Will shower yee with stories from the war.’”

Chaya appreciated that one, “If you were to write one of these, what would you write?”

“Hmm, ‘harlots need not apply.’” I teased, and she punched my shoulder in jest.

“I was being serious! Come on, what would you write?”

I looked up at the fire burning in the fireplace, I didn’t think I could say what came to mind, “‘I… am looking for someone to eat pastries with me in the stupid hours of the evening.’”

“Is that so?” she mused, surprisingly not put off by my bizarre confession.

Turning back to her, I backpedaled, “I don’t know why I said that.”

“Hmm,” she hummed, waiting for my next move. 

“I want to kiss you,” I said, fighting the urge to break eye contact. There was a spot of light in her eyes that compelled me to speak only in earnest. My thoughts were no longer thoughts, they were words and I was too caught up in the adrenaline of the night to be embarrassed by them.

Her eyebrows rose at the revelation, she set the plate of pastries off to the side, never once looking away, “You should do it.”

I thought of Fati, what would she think of me? The worst. As she thought of everyone. I would be one of them if she ever found out. I feared more what she would think than what Valkom would think.

Nevertheless, I deliberated on the dilemma not nearly long enough, fearing the moment would fade away, so I kissed her.

She kissed me back, quite skillfully at that. To say that I gave her everything then, would be a lie, but I gave her enough.

Everyone on my father’s staff had to know. If they knew, the walls knew, and soon Valkom would too. Or perhaps they didn’t and I was overthinking. I want to say that it was in my head because I wasn’t as bothered about it as I should have been. Not to sound dramatic, but I felt more alive provoking death than when I was letting myself float through life like a good soldier.

We sat on the floor of the parlor drinking orange juice and eating omelettes the next morning. Her green dress was still damp so I had let her borrow another one of Fati’s outfits. The warm light of the morning came in through the frosted skylight, the colors of the yellow wall and the cherry oak hardwood floor were all so vivid.

“You like that friend of yours, the short angry one, don’t you?” Her tone was very casually brave.

I pretended to not know at first, really there was only one person she could have been referring to, “Fati?”

She pointed in the air with her fork, “That’s the one! I see the way you are with her, and she with you.”

To deny it then, would bear no fruit, “I suppose I do.”

Beneath the surface, I longed for a confidant on the matter. A confidant and advice. While I trusted Valkom, I had never known how to go about bringing up the subject. Chaya asked the question in this scenario and I was eager to answer. I watched her face for the answers to all my qualms, which in retrospect puts a lot on the shoulder of one person. 

She held her head high, and with kind eyes gave me her sincere response, “You’re a kindhearted person with good intentions. You like her despite her shortcomings, which you are well aware of. It’s a dangerous place to be- you enjoy playing the role of her hero, I’ve seen enough to gather that at least. But… the way she is with you, she is with others when you’re not around, I hope you see that.”

I let her words marinate in my mind for a moment, “Am I stupid for continuing to like her?”

She set down her fork and dabbed at her mouth with a napkin before responding, “Not at all, she’s good at what she does. Love blinds us to people’s flaws, if anything I commend you for being aware of them and wanting to help her in spite of it. I will say that you should be mindful of your own needs and wants, and if you want those feelings reciprocated.”

As well intended as her comment was, it did nothing to make me feel less stupid. I laughed at my own mental nonsense, “Did Valkom tell you to talk to me about this?”

She tilted her head at the question, “He didn’t, but your asking tells me that you two have gone over this before. And if he’s known you longer than I, he probably has a point.”

“Yeah, believe it or not, he has his moments.” I joked, “if you acknowledge them though, know that you’ve fueled his ego for the next 50 years.”