Feline - 3. Phoebe: Winter

3. Phoebe: Winter

I was fascinated. A disease that changed your eye color? I was hooked. I asked Ellen, but she wouldn’t tell me anymore. So I took to asking travelers, and people who had come to buy kats fur.

Slowly, I compiled information. For the sake of memory, I wrote it all down.

Being near the crust causes infection or contamination, always. If you already had it, it sped the process, and made it worse. If you where contaminated, you where not infected, and visa versa.

Contaminated people had neon green eyes, and where contagious, even though they were not ill themselves. Those who were infected, by the crust or by contaminated people, had one eye turn violet. They also gained incredible abilities, both physical and otherwise. At a prince. They had about a year to live after growing sick. But for that year they where unstoppable, unfindable, and unharmable. They where super beings. They were feared, though, as few people knew the distinction between contamination and infection. When an infected person reached the end, there eye that was not purple would change color, and they would drop dead of any number of things; heart failure, suffocation with no source. The point is, they would die.

I learned that the infected could hide from anyone, except the contaminated, who were drawn to them.

This was all I could find out.

I learned it, though, and kept an eye out for travelers who could be ether infected or contaminated. Life was mostly peaceful, though. The kittens grew, and the older kats died. I liked sleeping with the kittens that winter, the one after I’d lost my parents, even though it was cold. I loved there soft, sleepy purring, and the way they’d sleep almost upside down.

I was so happy then, kept warm by my soft kittens fur coat, cuddling with the babies. The only mar on the happy picture was that I missed the city, and as much as I loved the garden, I did not truly think of it as my home.

Changelings - Ch 7: Mort and Thana

Ch 7: Mort and Thana

I broke suddenly in front of the mail boxes, and unlocked mine and Mum’s. There were a few things, so I took them out, and threw them in my bike basket, and pedaled once, which carried me the last few feet to the door of our apartment.

“Are you home, dear?” My mom asked.

“Yeah.”

“I made dinner.”

“Thanks, mom.” I parked my bike and went into the kitchen, dropped the mail on the counter, and took the top off the slow cooker, trying to see if the beans I had put on earlier were ready. “Want some beans, mom?” I asked.

“Oh, I could have a little snack, sure.” She said.

I rifled through the mail. It was mostly adds, but there was a letter from the school, asking my mom if she knew I worked several jobs, telling her my grades could suffer, and a letter from my dad, no doubt with money.

I tore open my dad’s letter with my finger, and pulled out the check, setting it on the counter, and opened the letter.

Trix,

I was worried about finances, and you said your mom’s been having mental trouble, so I included a little extra so you could get your mom checked out. Maybe if she needs meds, and she can be on them, she can then help you out more.

Love, Dad

A little extra so I could have mom seen? Dad really was the best. I folded the check in half and put it in my pocket to deposit later.

I made bowls for my mother and myself.

“Dinner, Mom.” I said. She didn’t get up, so I took it to her, then got open the phone book, and started looking for shrinks.

Finally, I found somewhere that looked promising.

“I don’t understand, though. Why can’t I speak to your parent?”

“That’s the problem. It’s just me and my mom, and she’s totally delusional. I have the money, but I need someone to check her out.”

“I see. Would you like to make an appointment?”

“Yes! Yes, I would like to make an appointment.”

“Hey, mom, that was a woman who wants to work with you! I made you an appointment next week. Is that ok?”

“I’ll see what I can do with my schedule.” She said. I hadn’t given her a date.

“I’ve got to go out for a while, mom.” I said.

“Alright, Trix. Remember to be back by curfew!”

“Of course, mom.” I said, and went outside, hopped on my bike, and went to the bank. As I was chaining my bike to the bike rack, my phone rang.

“Hello?” I said.

“Hey, Triccy. I was wondering what you’re up to.” It was Mort.

“Why are you calling me?” I asked.

“Hey.” He said. “You had fun, right? I thought we had a thing!”

“We definitely do not have a thing.” I said.

“What do you call that then?” He asked.

“An error in judgment. I have to go; I’m walking into the bank.” And I snapped my phone shut.

I hadn’t looked at the amount on the check, but I noticed it when I was filling out the deposit slip.

It was quite a bit more than ‘a little extra’. I guess dad felt bad about abandoning me and indirectly making it so that I had to work so hard. He’s really not a bad guy, my dad.

The second I walked out of the bank I got another call.

“Hello?”

“Triccy, come on. Did you not have fun?”

“I – I did, but it was wrong! I have to take care of Mom, I don’t have time for fun!” I gasped. Shoot. “I – I’ve got to go.” I hung up. Why had I told him that?! I didn’t want him to know! I didn’t want anyone to know! It was too late now, though.

I held my head in my hands, my long, cold fingers spider webbing across my face. It felt good to not have to hold my head up. I was tired. I wanted to break down and cry right there, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t make myself a target. I had to get home; I had to get dinner, and do my homework, and get to work. I didn’t have time for this. I then realized I didn’t have to work at Spindle’s. It was my night off. I still couldn’t make myself a target. I couldn’t cry at home, though. There was nowhere I could go to cry.

“Triccy.” Mort said delicately, and I felt his big warm hand on my shoulder. I jumped.

“What, are you staling me?” I asked.

“No, I just realized that phone conversations weren’t getting us anywhere.”

“How did you know where I was?” I asked.

He shrugged. “You said you where at the bank. It’s a small town.”

“Fair point.”

“I’m sorry.” He said. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“Cry?”

He reached out a hand and brushed a tear from my cheek.

“Oh.” I said. “Well, it’s not your fault. It’s ‘cause I’m stupid.” I smiled, but I could feel the tears, hot and fast flowing down my face.

“Come on.” He linked his arm with mine and walked me across the plaza to the 24 hour waffle house. Pancake Pagoda.

We went over to a booth and he plopped down across from me.

The waitress brought water, and we ordered pancakes.

“Ok.” He said. “Tell me.”

I couldn’t meet his eyes. I sipped the water.

“You’ll feel better when you get it off your chest.” He said. He was right, of course, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell him anything, because I knew the second he heard, he would be gone. And I didn’t want that.

The waitress brought our pancakes.

I took a bite, and then sat up straight, looking at Mort.

“My dad’s not around. He left my mom, when I was really little. I don’t remember. He, he’s not a bad guy, though. Really he’s not. But it means it’s just my mom and I. It, it was all fine till I was ten. Almost eleven.”

I told him everything. Everything I had never told anyone. And if found myself sitting there at two in the morning, crying and finishing my story.

Mort handed me another napkin.

“It’s ok.” He said.

“Yeah. Now I’ve got it off my chest.” I said sarcastically. I was angry. He was gonna leave, and there was nothing I could do about it.

“Hey, Triccy. It’s ok.” He put his hand on mine.

“Don’t.” I said. I said it straight, clean. He wasn’t doing that to me.

“Triccy?”

“Don’t!” I said louder. “You’re not doing this to me!”

“Not doing what?”

“Calling me Triccy, and holding my hand, and then leaving. I’ve never had a friend, so I’ve never had a friend abandon me. It’s gonna hurt enough without you adding to it.”

“Triccy.” He reached across the table and took my hand, even though I pulled it away. He shook his brown hair out of his face, and met my eyes with his pale green ones. Hypnotic. Something was slightly off, but that didn’t matter. “I’m not abandoning you. Please.”

“Don’t make fun of me!” I pulled on my hand, but half heartedly. I wanted him to be nice. Wanted it desperately. But people aren’t nice, people are efficient.

“I’m not. I’m not making fun of you. Triccy, I’m not going anywhere.” His warm hand was a shock on mine. My hands are cold, always. The one he was holding in his was warming, though. To his temperature. Too hot. Or perhaps I was just too cold.

And just like that I started crying.

“Triccy.” He said. His voice was so soft, and there was something in it I hadn’t heard there before. Chilly things, I thought, but I couldn’t tell. “Triccy.”

I couldn’t think properly. I needed to be alone for a while, to decompress.

“I – I need to go home.” I said. I stood, grabbing the table for support.

“I’ll take you.” Mort said.

“Take me? Whadaya mean take me? We’re on bikes.” I was so confused. My brain working double time, struggling to think. I was tired.

“I’ll call a – a cab. Yeah.” He said.

“No, no that’s expensive. I’ll be fine.”

“It’s ok.” He said in a ‘no, really’ way, and I was too tired to argue, so I just nodded.

A black car pulled up. This seemed funny, but I went with it.

Mort dropped me off right at my door, promising the bike would be there in the morning. I thanked him, and went in.

I walked in and heard splashing, and the sound of running water. I went quickly into the bathroom. The water in the sink was running. The sink had been slow to drain forever, but nothing like this had ever happened.

Presumably an effect of the water being on for however long, the sink was totally flooded. The water had spilled over onto the bathroom floor, filling it up and poring over the low tile ledge onto the tile floor of the hall.

I ran to the closet, pulling out all the towels we owned but one. I unfolded them one at a time, and threw them on the floor.

I threw my sweatshirt in my room.

“Mom?” I called. “Mom?!”

“Yeeeehhhsss?” She breathed, peeking out of the closet I was walking past.

“What happened with the sink?” I asked.

“It’s blocked.” She said. “Go on, I have to work. Go to school.”

“Yeah, mom.” I went to bed.

The bike was there in the morning, just like Mort had said it would be. I was beginning to wonder, what was up with this boy? He had called a car last night. Not a cab. A car. With a driver.

Getting mom to the shrink was tricky, and ultimately rather pricey. I go everywhere on my bike, and mom never leaves the house, so as we couldn’t both bike, and she was being difficult, I had to call a cab.

Now, the cabbie was convinced mom had called him. I lied brazenly and swore we where sisters, and set her up in the back, sitting in the front and telling him where to go. He didn’t fully believe me until I told him I was the one with the money. We got there fast, then.

The psycho therapist was very nice. We waited in the waiting room for about fifteen minutes, then she took mom to a room, and talked to me for a second. I explained the situation, and she said she’d see what she could do.

While mom was in her session, I went across the way to the Asian market. I got some groceries, and some incense, and went back to the waiting room, and the therapist came out minutes later.

“Can I speak to you, miss Glen?”

“Yes.” I followed her into an empty room.

“I don’t know how to say this… Talking to your mother… I’ve never seen anyone who’s pretending more.”

“What?” I asked her.

“There’s nothing wrong with your mother mentally. Nothing. She’s been pretending. Why, I don’t know. Maybe if you brought her in again…”

“You’re absolutely sure? She is, without any doubt, pretending?”

“She asked me not to tell you.”

“Thank you.” I said. I walked into the front, and paid without talking more than I had to. Then, I picked up the groceries, and left. My mom came out after me.

“Trix, Trix, please. Please, Trix, baby.” I reached into my back pocket, pulled out fifteen bucks, shoved it into the grocery bags, and handed them to my mom. I then hailed a taxi and got in, without her.

The cab took me home, where I threw clothes, nonperishable food, and the book in which I press flowers and money in a bag, along with my phone. I deleted my number from my mom’s cell phone. I could call her, she couldn’t call me. Best of all, the bag was no more than a large purse, so no one would think I was homeless.

I hopped on my bike, and found myself, again, at the Pancake Pagoda. I just ordered a milkshake, which apparently they sell, and sat there for a while. All the work of the past three years had been for nothing.

I took out the book, and opened it, letting everything fall out. I counted the money, and put it back in. I told the waitress, who was very nice, that I was running to the bank, but I still wanted my milkshake, and that I’d double her tip if she would make it easy. I didn’t need stupidity right now. She agreed easily.

I crossed the parking lot to the bank, and got all the money I had ever made out of the bank at the ATM, and then pressed it in the book too.

I went back to the Pancake Pagoda, and moments later my milkshake was brought out.

My phone rang. I looked at caller ID, expecting my mom to have been more tenacious than expected, and have had my number somewhere else, but it wasn’t my mom. It was Mort.

“Yeah?” I answered.

“Triccy, is everything alright?”

“Yeah.” I said. “Of course.”

“Where are you?” He asked.

“Ditto last time.”

“Order a pancake, I’ll be right there.” And he hung up on me.

I didn’t get pancakes, though. I wasn’t hungry.

Mort appeared at the door. He came in, and sat down across from me.

“Ok, what’s up?”

“What do you mean?” I asked, acting hard. I always acted. I never let anyone see the way I felt. Showing the wrong emotion for the situation, or, not the emotion my mom wanted you to have, was a sure fire way to get her to have a breakdown. Not good. So I’d learned young how to act. Really well. No one had ever seen through me, not if I didn’t want them to.

“I mean, what’s wrong?” He asked.

“Nothing.” I said, making my tone imply that this was a ridiculous question.

“Triccy?” He asked.

“What?”

“I know something’s wrong. Just tell me.”

I must have given him a funny look.

“What?” he asked.

“Well.” I looked out the window. “When you act well, it works for a while, then someone sees through you, and the problem is solved. When you act really well, though, Really well, no one ever notices. You’re the first person ever to realize I’m upset.”

“I’m so sorry.” He said.

“For what?” I asked. How could he know? The truth was that he could not know me so well so fast. I disregarded this. I wanted him to know me.

“For you. But what happened?”

“Well, like I said, my dad’s a great guy. He wanted to make life easier for me, so he sent some extra money so I could afford to take mom to a psycho therapist, to get a diagnosis.” I told him, taking a long sip of my butterscotch shake. “So I did. I took her. And guess what they said.”

“She has to be committed and you have to go live with your dad?” He asked.

“Worse.”

“Her brain’s gonna explode, and you have the same illness, and you have to live on a deserted island so as not to spread it?”

“She’s faking.” I said, at which Mort dropped his menu, looking at me seriously.

“Faking?”

“Has been for years. I’ve been taking care of her, and she’s been having a laugh at her susceptible daughter.

“That’s awful.”

“I know.”

“What are you gonna do now?” He asked.

“I don’t know.” I said. “I can’t go home. Maybe I’ll go live with my Dad.”

He nodded. “That might be good.”

“It, it’ll be hard to start over.”

“You said you don’t have many friends, though.” He smiled. “So there’s at least that that won’t me hard.”

“Well, there’s you.” I said. This was the obvious, but clearly he wanted me to point it out.

“Oh, don’t worry about me. I have a plan. Talk to me about long island, though.”

“Well, I really don’t want to live on long island. I’m used to supporting myself, though, and apartments in New York are cheap right now. Dad would be close, if I needed him. Nothing I can do tonight, though.” I was thinking about what I should do. I had to get more stuff from home and school if I was gonna leave, though.

“You gonna go home tonight, then?” He asked.

“I can’t.” I said. “I can’t be under the same roof as that monster. I could go to a hotel, but I don’t have the money, really….” I trailed off, looking out the window.

“Come to my place.” He said. “I have a twin sister who would love you. You can stay with us until you get things worked out.”

“Really?” I asked. It seemed too good to be true. Well, worst case, I had enough Magick to get me out of a tight situation. “Will that be ok with your parents?” I asked.

“My parents don’t live with us. They couldn’t care less, in fact.” He said.

I thought about it.

“There are mermaids, Wendy.” He said, quoting Peter Pan, when he was trying to convince Wendy to go to Neverland with him.

“Well, how can I say no to Magickal beings?” I asked.

“Let’s go, then.” I had finished my milkshake. I fumbled in my pockets, knowing I had some money in one of them, but Mort raised his hand. “It’s on me.”

We went out, and got a cab.

Mort opened my door for me when we arrived, and I stepped out. I didn’t immediately see the house, though, because I was distracted by the moon.

It was bright, and full, and the dark grey clouds around it scattered themselves like puzzle pieces, and there was a red ring around the moon. I walked slowly after Mort, still looking up. My foot hit a step, though, and I had to focus on what I was doing.

The house, was huge. Especially since it was only for a few people. There where clearly two floors, and many rooms. A mansion.

Mort smiled at me.

He held the door open for me.

I stepped in. Immediately, I loved it. Not because it was big, but because of everything else. I didn’t know exactly what it was. The dark wood floors, warmed by the fire place across the room. Big, brown leather couches, which I didn’t think particularly beautiful, but which where definitely squishy.

The pale, bright green of the walls, covered in thin shelves of a wood the color of the floor and chairs, covered in books, on every wall. The fact that, from the doorway, I could see through another two doorways into a slightly darker green room, with a black grand piano, with real art hanging over it, and on the bench, playing something beautiful and classical, a girl who looked nothing like Mort, but had to be his twin.

Her hair was long, and bottle blue. At least, it must have been bottle. It was varied in color a bit, and looked very real, aside from the fact that it was peacock. It was long, and curly, and lovely, falling down beyond the seat of the piano bench. It had to be heavy, and hard to comb, but it was beautiful.

“Thana!” Mort called. The girl nodded, very slightly, not stopping her playing, but when the song was over she stood, swung her hair over her shoulder, and came in.

“Hello!” She said.

“Hello.” I said.

“What’s your name? I’m Thana.”

“Nice to meet you, Thana. I’m Beatrice.”

“I’m sure you don’t go by that, though.” She smiled. “What do you go by?”

“What do you think I should go by?”

“Tri.” She said.

“Tri? Really?”

“Oh, well, you know, I was trying to think of something that would be unusual.” Her eyes where big and brown, but the shade kept shifting. There was no doubt that she was beautiful.

Thana grabbed her hair and twisted it in a bun, and wrapped it in a headband, the same way most people would use a rubber band.

She smiled at me, and turned to Mort.

“Ok, what gives.”

“Triccy is gonna stay with us until she can work out where to move to.” Mort said firmly.

“Really?” Thana asked, face lighting up a little bit.

“Absolutely.”

“Lovely!” Thana said. “I’ll go get a room ready!”

She ran off, and up a wide flight of stairs.

Mort smiled at me.

“She’s enthusiastic.”

“Yes.” I smiled too. I couldn’t help it.