You can read the previous chapter here!
“Your birthday has arrived, and soon it shall depart
We celebrate your life, your love, your darling little heart
We wish you all the very best and bid you take a bow
For your special time has time, so sing about it now,” sang Cedric heartily and Lily in a high key.
Heather thought for a moment, then sang back, “I had another year to think about my birthday song
And now I sing it for you here, though it isn’t very long
I’ve learned to be good and to keep my place without a second thought
And for all that, I have been taught, and I thank you both a lot.”
“Oh!” cried Cedric. “That was quite a song! I think you’ve moved on from your more . . . simple compositions.”
Heather laughed. “I took a week to think about it,” she said. “I wanted to improve on last year’s improvised song about seed bread.”
“When did you become so obsessed with seed bread?” asked Lily, her voice smooth and kind. “We never had it, and then one day you came home and asked for it.”
Heather thought back to the seed bread roll that Zenna had given her while saving her from jailtime. Seed bread never tasted so sweet as it did back then, but there was still something about it that made it special.
“I dunno,” she said. “I think I had some when I was still . . . messing up.”
“We’re so proud of you, sweetheart,” said Cedric. “Our little girl, fourteen years old and ready to take on the world.”
Lily nodded. “I know most halflings are dying to get out of the house at your age,” she said, “and you were always especially fond of going out.” She folded her arms. “Now, I haven’t forgotten the old days, little miss, and I don’t want you thinking about what you used to get up to.” She sighed. “But you’ve been good. You’ve really turned a corner.” Lily smiled. “I think it’s time we lifted your curfew.”
Heather smiled delicately, but inside, she was thrilled. No more sneaking out? she thought. For the last year and a half, she had been playing the perfect child during the day and sneaking out at night for her job. She’d gotten work cleaning tables at a tavern, and she was careful enough that no one noticed her go home with a portion of the tips left behind. She had a tight-fitting coat with pockets just big enough for a single coin sewed all over–learning to sew from Lily had both endeared Heather to her and given Heather the skill to create something that would allow her to conceal dozens of coins soundlessly. She’d been making good money, keeping a public persona, and pleasing her parents the whole time. Coming back home started as a way to avoid getting picked up. But now I see that it’s the perfect cover. Who suspects the darling, dutiful child? The loads of possibilities flooded over her.
“Heather?” said Lily. “Did you hear me? Or do you want to keep your curfew?”
“No!” said Heather with more passion than she meant to. “No,” she said more calmly, “I was just thinking about going out again. Thank you! I really appreciate it.”
“I’ll bet you do,” said Lily. Her eyes gleamed happily though the rest of her face was staid.
“What’re you going to do with the first night out?” asked her father.
Heather tried to not look stunned. She hadn’t had time to craft a story for this surprise news. “I wanna see the marketplace at night!” she said, grinning. “It looks amazing at night.” Is that convincing? Am I too old to go for a bunch of lanterns?
“Sounds good,” said Cedric. “Be careful out there, okay?” He smiled warmly at her.
“I promise,” said Heather. She stood up from the table and faced Lily. “Do I have any chores before I can go out?” she asked.
“It’s your birthday,” began Cedric.
“Clean up the dishes, please,” said Lily, a wicked smile on her face.
“Yes, ma’am,” said Heather dutifully and began to clear the table. She carried the plates to the kitchen and placed them in the sink, grabbing for the soap.
“Lily, it’s her birthday,” whispered Cedric. “Let the girl have a day off.”
Lily sat silently.
“Lily, c’mon, she’s been so good,” whispered Cedric more intently.
“No,” said Lily at full volume.
Cedric shrugged and sighed. Heather finished washing the dishes and turned to her mother. “All done,” she said, smiling. “Anything else?”
“No,” said Cedric, “you go have fun.”
Heather looked to her mother. Lily nodded. “Thanks, Mom and Dad. I really liked the party. And thanks again.” She curtsied slightly and walked to the door.
“Don’t get into any trouble,” called Lily.
“I won’t,” called Heather. “Good night!”
Heather closed the door gently behind herself and walked off into the night. The low hum of the city mixed with the chirps of crickets and the lapping of the lake. Heather looked up at the night sky as she walked. I just got allowed out whenever I want almost, she thought. So why do I feel so awful? She wandered aimlessly for a while, trying to enjoy the fact that she was freer than she was an hour ago and almost succeeding.
—
Heather approached the marketplace from the west end, snaking past the goods vendors to the exotic food stalls. She eyed and smelled various dishes and stopped before a baker. Other kids get cake on their birthday, she thought, looking at a sweetcake. Why shouldn’t I? She held up her purse and pointed at the sweetcake while the baker answered another customer’s questions. The baker held up two fingers. Heather handed over two copper, and the baker pushed the sweetcake toward her. She grabbed it and resumed winding through the marketplace, now slowly eating her treat.
It’s nice out, she thought, stepping over a fallen drunken man. Beautiful, even. Sounds of a fight to her side prompted her to veer to the other side of the road. What a great birthday.
She continued aimlessly on for a while, then headed for the opposite edge of town. She walked with purpose now, and she stopped in a dark alleyway. She emerged moments later wearing a different dress, this one dark red with black frills and a pale grey jacket on top, her hair in a long braid. She smoothed her dress, walked another block, and entered a small tavern.
Inside, she waved to the barmaid, a middle-aged halfling woman with red hair and freckles across her nose. “Blossom!” she called. “You’re early.”
Heather smiled and stepped behind the counter. She grabbed a stained apron and slipped it on. “I got free a little sooner than expected, Carla,” she said. “I should actually be able to come in sooner if you need me from now on.”
Carla laughed. “Oh, little miss ‘I’m an adult already’ is looking for more hours?”
Heather shrugged performatively. “Just sayin’,” she said.
“Okay then, Blossom, if you want to get started early, you could get that table by the door. Those guys were here most of the day, so I expect it to be gross. Sorry.”
“It’s my job!” said Heather cheerfully. “It’ll look like new in no time.”
“Let’s not get carried away,” said Carla. “Nothing in here is going to look new any time soon.” She turned and picked up a rag which she used to polish a mug.
A big group of patrons, women mostly Carla’s age or older, walked in and pointed to a pair of tables. “Can we have someone move these together for us?” one of them asked.
Carla looked to Heather. She looked back to the women. “One minute, she’ll be right with you.”
Heather nodded and put down her cloth on the filthy table. She walked over to the tables and looked to the woman who had spoken, a tall grey-haired woman with a pearl necklace. “Does it matter which one goes where?”
“Does it matter which one–are you daft?” said the grey-haired woman. “Why would that matter?”
“Sorry,” said Heather. “I just thought–”
“You work cleaning tables,” sniffed the grey-haired woman, “so clearly thinking isn’t your strong suit.”
Heather slumped her shoulders and said nothing. She grabbed the legs of one table and pulled it towards the other. The table moved in scooting motions rather than a steady slide; Heather was struggling to get it to move at all.
“She can’t even do it,” said the grey-haired woman. “Miss!” she shouted at Carla. “Your little thing over here isn’t going to get the job done.”
Carla looked directly at the woman. “My little thing over there? You realize you’re talking about a child, right?”
The grey-haired woman shrugged. “Don’t you have someone else who can do it?”
Carla pursed her lips. “Yeah, actually,” she said. “I absolutely do. They’re not here, though. What you’re going to do is, go out the door, don’t ever come back, and walk right into the lake.”
The grey-haired woman narrowed her eyes at Carla. “You mean to say, you don’t want our business?” She smiled at Carla as if to say she enjoyed having all the control in the situation.
“You can take it that way,” said Carla, livid. “I suppose you can take it any way you want, so long as you take it somewhere else.”
The grey-haired woman sniffed. “What a shame. I don’t suppose–”
“I was being polite,” interrupted Carla. “Get the fuck out.”
The grey-haired woman gasped, then stalked out of the tavern. Gradually, those in her party followed after. A younger woman with short, blond hair stopped by Carla and said, “Sorry about her.”
“Don’t be sorry to me,” said Carla sternly. She pointed to Heather. “Be sorry to her.”
The blond woman nodded. “Sorry,” she said to Heather before hurrying outside.
“Why’d you do that?” asked Heather once the women had left.
Carla narrowed her eyes at her. “Seriously?”
Heather glanced around to figure out what she was missing. “Uh, I guess?”
Carla shook her head. “She had no right to speak to you like that. Nobody has a right to speak to you like that. You’re a person. You deserve common decency.”
But Mom talks to me like that all the time. “But people do talk to me like that sometimes,” she said.
Carla winced. “Well, they shouldn’t. Anyone who says things like that to you, you just stop believing them right then and there. You’ll do that for me, right?”
Heather was lost in thought. Wouldn’t that mean that Mom’s lying? The implications were hard to unravel. Lying about what else?
“Blossom?” Carla sounded vaguely concerned.
“Sorry,” said Heather. “I was just thinking about what you said. Very smart.”
“I am pretty smart, huh?” said Carla. “Not bad, at least.”
“Hey Carla?” asked Heather as she began to scrub the surface of the filthy table.
“Yeah Blossom?” said Carla.
“Am I smart?” asked Heather.
Carla laughed. “You’re the smartest person I know who cleans tables,” she said.
—
Heather listened in to the conversation at the next table as she cleaned. She had found that potentially useful information passed more freely when people were drinking, so being in a place dedicated to drinking was extremely useful for someone like her. Now that I can go out, I might actually be able to do something with all this information, she thought. Then I could make some real money. Speaking of money, she thought, sweeping together a pile of tipped copper pieces. She deftly stacked the coins and slid them across the table. At the table’s edge, she fed her other hand under the stack, allowing a single copper piece to fall into it. She nimbly swept the head to her side as though to scratch it and inserted it into one of the jacket’s many pockets. The other hand held the stack of coins tightly, and Heather walked with it out before her all the way to the bar. She stepped behind it, opened a small steel box, and dropped the stack into it. She smiled at the pile of coins inside. It’s nice to know that Carla isn’t in the poorhouse even with me skimming.
Heather stepped back out into the tavern and surveyed the place. Carla took orders from a table which had been here since Heather had arrived. A card game in the back generated sounds of surprise and outrage when a player revealed an especially impressive hand. A bard who had played a few songs earlier sat resting and tuning his lyre. Heather smiled. No dirty tables, she thought. Time to take a breather.
She stepped outside into the brisk night air. It’s cooling down, she thought. Too bad this jacket is more for storing money than keeping me warm. She sighed. But if it were a heavy jacket, I couldn’t use it during the warmer months. She laughed lightly to herself. The struggles of being a criminal, I suppose. She watched as people filed by in the night. People at night are either in a hurry or have no place to be, she thought. Look, there’s someone in a hurry. She watched a young man stalk aggressively down the street. And someone without a care in the world. She watched a middle-aged woman amble by carelessly. Which one am I? A few patrons exited the bar behind her, signaling that there was a dirty table. She breathed in the night air one more time, turned, and went inside.
The table was mostly clean, as most tables with games were. The patrons who left had been playing cards for a while, and they had barely ordered anything. Nevertheless, Heather braced her tiny shoulders and scrubbed hard. It felt less bad to steal from Carla when she worked her hardest.
A few minutes later, the table was as clean as Heather could make it. Carla swung by, having just finished taking orders. “Looks great!” she said, returning to the bar and pouring drinks.
Heather beamed, and she found that only part of it was performed. I like Carla. I want to be like Carla one day. She turned to the door at the sound of footsteps coming in. The was the grey-haired woman from earlier. She saw Heather and walked right for her.
“Young lady,” said the grey-haired woman. “It was you earlier, right?”
What now? thought Heather. Back for more?
“My friends told me I behaved very poorly with you,” said the old woman. “Listen, my name is Lidda, and I have come back to say I am sorry.”
Heather studied the woman’s face. She searched herself, trying to diagnose the feeling inside her. It wasn’t relief. Sometimes apologies brought relief, but not this. Sometimes apologies brought pain, the kind that comes from remembering something you wished you forgot. It wasn’t that either. What is this?
“Miss, do you accept my apology or not?” asked Lidda.
Heather smiled at her. “Sorry for what?”
Lidda fought frustration. “I already said, my behavior was very poor–”
“But poor how?” asked Heather. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
Lidda breathed heavily and forced a smile. “I talked to you somewhat rudely, you see–”
“I thought I told you to leave!” shouted Carla, walking over. “Did you not get that?”
“It’s fine,” said Heather, holding out a hand. “She was apologizing.” Heather looked back to Lidda. “In what way were you rude?”
Lidda gritted her teeth. “I talked to you like you were . . . well, rudely.”
Heather smiled widely. “Like I was what?”
Lidda burst. “Like you’re a dreadful little brat who can’t even take an apology!” she shouted and stormed from the tavern.
Carla laughed and clapped Heather on the shoulder. “That was good,” she said. “You just kept asking her to explain, and it drove her nuts. Where did you learn that?”
“From my mom,” said Heather without thinking.
“I bet you drive her crazy with it,” said Carla, misunderstanding.
“I sure do,” said Heather. Probably better that you don’t know.
—
The tavern was starting to wind down with the late hour. Heather guessed it was a bit after midnight from the way that Carla was urging customers to get in their last orders. Heather flipped a mental switch–it was time to go all out until everyone was gone. Two tables of customers left at the same time. She set her sights on the dirtier one and got to work.
She repeated the cycle she had performed probably a thousand times now: she piled the dishes and carried them away, placing them behind the bar. She wiped the table in a circular fashion, steering ever inward until she had wiped the whole thing in a clean spiral to the center. Finally, only the coins remained, and she began to stack them, pushing the stack to the edge of the table. She glanced around. No one in the tavern was paying attention. She swiped the coins, leaving one behind in her hand, which tucked the pilfered coin into a pocket in her jacket. She carried the stack performatively to behind the bar, dumped it, and headed back for the second table.
Again, now mindlessly, she performed the same routine. Stack the plates. Carry them away. A patron left, leaving another table. So it begins, she thought. Wipe the table. Stack the coins. Take one, slip it away. She turned to carry the stack of coins to the bar. A new patron stood at the door, watching her. She shrugged off her suspicion and walked to the bar. Weirdos always show up just before close.
She dumped the coins in the steel box and turned around. The man at the door was still watching her. She waved. He nodded and approached her.
“Good evening, miss,” he said. Now that he was close, Heather could see that he was dirty and had a few scars on his neck.
“Good evening, sir,” she said in response.
“That’s a fine trick,” he said. He eyed her greedily.
“What is?” she asked innocently.
“Getting a copper out of every table,” he said quietly.
Heather’s eyes went wide. “Excuse me?” she said. Maybe the innocent act will work. I don’t know what he saw.
“And the coat is a nice touch,” he said, reaching out for it. Heather thought of slapping his hand away, but she felt paralyzed. He pulled the fabric enough to display the tops of copper pieces in the pockets. He grinned and let it fall.
“What do you want?” said Heather, all business.
“That’s more like it,” said the man. “I want the coat. With the money in it. Or else I tell the barmaid.”
Heather’s stomach dropped. Tonight had been a good night–this would mean losing at least a week’s worth of rent. Her mind raced for alternatives.
“Don’t even think about it,” said the man threateningly. “Pay up, or I tell the good lady.”
Heather hung her head. She gingerly removed the jacket and handed it to the man.
“Good,” said the man, bundling the jacket and slipping it under his arm. “Now I’d find a new job, ‘cause I’m not bound to keep my promise about not tellin’ her.” He wheezed some sickly laughter and turned. “Fuckin’ stupid kid,” he said as he left.
Heather tried not to cry. She stood quietly for a minute, then returned to the dirty tables and set them right. All the while, her mind raced. What do I do now? I mean, there are other taverns, but it would take a week to get back what I just lost.
Her thoughts were interrupted by Carla, who had just finished ushering the last customers out the door. “Good work tonight, Blossom,” she said proudly. “Who was that man who talked to you? And where’s your coat?”
Heather didn’t stop cleaning the last table. “He wanted directions. And I took it off–I was getting too warm.”
“Warm?” asked Carla. “There’s a chill in the air. Are you feeling well?”
Heather tried to compose herself for a normal answer, but she burst into tears.
“What’s wrong?” cried Carla.
“I can’t work here anymore,” sobbed Heather. “I’m so sorry, Carla. I’m sorry.”
“Whoa, calm down,” said Carla. “It’s okay. Why can’t you work here anymore?”
“I just can’t,” sobbed Heather. “I can’t.”
Carla rubbed Heather’s head. “Is something wrong?” she asked. “Did that lady bother you? Because I thought you handled her beautifully.”
“No,” said Heather, sniffling. “I just–my mom doesn’t want me working in a tavern anymore.”
Carla frowned, wounded. “I worked in a tavern when I was your age.”
“She doesn’t understand,” said Heather. “I’m sorry.”
“We’ve established that,” said Carla. “Well, it will be hard to find someone with your work ethic, and I am going to worry about you, but I’ll be fine if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Heather nodded. “That’s good.”
“Well, if your mom doesn’t want you working here anymore, she probably wants you home about now,” said Carla. “Thanks, Blossom. It’s been good working together.”
Heather smiled weakly. “Thanks, Carla. It has been good.”
“Don’t be a stranger,” said Carla.
Heather considered how far she trusted the man. It would be too dangerous to come back, she thought. She looked at Carla, knowing it would probably be the last time they spoke.
“I won’t,” she lied.
—
Heather made it home as the moon peaked across the top of the sky. She pushed the front door to the house open as quietly as possible and walked inside. The house was dark. She wound through the living room and down the hall to her room. Faint light crept out from under the door.
That’s weird, Heather thought. She pushed open the door.
Inside, every piece of clothing she owned was strewn violently across the floor. Her mother sat on her bed, holding a candle which illuminated her tired eyes.
“Welcome home, Heather,” said Lily emotionlessly.
“Um, Mom?” said Heather. “What’s going on?”
Lily looked around the room as though it weren’t clear what Heather meant. “You mean all this?” she asked. “Actually, I was hoping that you could explain why there’s an entire clothing store in your closet!”
Heather looked at all the clothes. Thrown around, they looked more numerous than neatly hung in her closet. Have I really gathered together all this?
“No answer, I see,” said Lily. “Just as well. We both know you stole to get this. There’s no courier job that could buy you all this while you’ve been living here.”
Heather raised a finger. “That’s not fair, Mom,” she said. “I didn’t steal to get any of this. I made these. I used what you taught me.”
Lily laughed bitterly. “I didn’t teach you a cross-stitch, you fool. I never taught you to hem this way,” she said, gesturing at a green dress half on her bed. “That’s just a lie that you cooked up just now.”
Heather felt the situation spiraling. Where did this come from? I thought she was on my side. She looked at the green dress. “I’ve been taking lessons,” she said. “I want to become a real seamstress. I thought that would make you proud of me.”
Lily flinched. “Who do you take me for? Do you think I’ve forgotten? Do you think I don’t feel the shame of having a little criminal for a child? Do you really think I don’t know who you are?” She stood suddenly and stepped towards Heather. “You’re a common liar and a thief.”
“Mom!” cried Heather. “It’s really not like that! I can explain.”
“Save your explanations for your father,” spat Lily. “He’s fool enough for them, but I’m not.”
“Mom, please, listen to me!” said Heather exasperatedly. “You’ve got to listen.”
“Shut up!” thundered Lily. “You’re the one who needs to listen. We gave you every chance in the world. You’ve done nothing but abuse our trust. I’m not just disappointed, Heather, I’m giving up.” She held the candle close to her face so that Heather could see her eyes clearly. “You had better be gone in the morning. And I don’t want to see your face again until you’ve really changed. Because I don’t want you like you are.” She sniffed once and pushed past Heather. “Good bye, Heather,” she said emotionlessly. “For now.”
Heather stood in the doorway, surveying the scattered clothes. Wait a minute, she thought. She only got rid of my curfew so she could search my room. She gritted her teeth in anger. This whole thing was a trick. She never–she didn’t think I had changed. She was just waiting for a moment to do this. Heather felt every feeling leave her. She stood numbly for a minute. Then, slowly, she began to gather the clothes and fold them neatly before placing them in her bag.
She went to her bedside table and opened the drawer. Inside were a few keepsakes from her childhood, which seemed so distant now, though everyone seemed to regard her as a child still. She looked mildly down on a small wooden doll of a halfling girl with real brown hair just like hers. She smiled at a tarnished copper piece that had become smooth with age. She plucked up a folded piece of paper. On the outside, it read,
“Dear Heather,
Today is your fifth birthday. One day, you will be big and grown, and you won’t even remember what it was like to be five. But for now, you’re exactly who you’re supposed to be.”
Heather flipped to the inside and read,
“No matter what happens, you will always be my little angel, and I will love you until the sun goes out forever (and then some).
Love,
Daddy”
She smiled faintly as she read the card. She flipped it over and began to write on the back of it. She penned a message, read it, and nodded. Dad will be up early to get the paper, she thought. She slung her bag over her shoulder and made for the door.
At the door, Heather wedged the card into the latticework around the frame. She read the message one more time silently.
“Dad,
I don’t know if I’ll ever be big, but I think I’m grown now. And I don’t know if I’m supposed to be who I am. But I’ll always be grateful that I was an angel to you, even if only when I was five.
Love always,
Heather”
She nodded again, stepped outside, and prepared to find a life of her own.
You can read the next chapter here!
No comments:
Post a Comment