"
And where do you think you're going, young lady?"
A stern voice pulsed through Mary's body, it felt like the jolt of taser and had the effects of Medusa's stare. The screen door slapped shut as her grip on it loosened, Mary turned to face her mother, a hapless sort of smile painted on a cringing face.
A child caught stealing from the cookie jar.
Several paces behind her stood a tall maternal figure, arms crossed, dressed in pink kitty pajama bottoms and a white tank top. Mary turned slowly, the soft pat of her all stars against the beige linoleum kitchen floors sounding like explosions in her ears compared to the silence of the young morning. She offered up a humorless chuckle and a slight shrug in response, both motions blended with a yawn. She really needed a cup of coffee...
"
Umm, y'know... nowhere?"
The Mother, Diana Janicot was an eerily perfect older version of Mary. If the woman were to cut her longer, graying hair you may just mistake her for Mary's taller sister-- the only difference between the two was skin tone. If Mary was tiramisu with a thin layer of whipped cream, then Diana was a cup of coffee with just a
bit too much creamer.
One was bitter, black liquid sorrow revitalizing and the other was sweet, fluffy all the flavor of coffee without the burn risk-- both were well traveled and vaguely ethnic.
"
Nowhere?" Diana replied, an edge to her voice, concern in her eyes, "
Miryam, is it a boy?"
Mary's reflex was a weak scoff.
"
Right. Yeah, no, it's not some guy." Mary's hand gripped the door handle, "
Since when do you care where I am anyway?"
"
I care!" Diana took a step forward, dawn's light began to illuminate the kitchen a pale gold, the gleam revealed a fresh tear rolling down her cheek, "
I just want to know where you'll be, please, give me that?"
"
Mom..."
"
The cemetery? Mary-- it's too cold, a cold front came in from Canada last night, you should bring yourself a coat!"
"
Mom, chill," she thoughtlessly grabbed the first leather thing to enter her hands from a nearby coat rack, "I'm not even--"
"
Are you going to be smoking? I don't like you smoking Maryam. It's not good for you. You're too young to ruin your lungs..."
"
Mom."
"
What? In some kind of hurry? So it is a boy?"
"
No, Mom--"
"
Oh my God... You aren't going to see a girl are you?"
"
What? Mom--"
"
Maryam Hollis Janicot, I'll be frank with you; I want grandchildren!"
"
What?"
"
Grandchildren, Maryam. The Janicot bloodline is more important than petty crushes! We have direct ties to the Wabanaki tribesmen, dating back to almost 400 years ago! We owe it to our ancestors to keep the bloodline going."
"
Mom, I don't even..."
Diana leaned against the counter as she began to speak, a reminiscent tone in her voice, "
You think I didn't have those crushes in my day? I've known hundreds of women in my lifetime Maryam, perhaps thousands. But those flings wouldn't have kept the Wabanaki blood strong in the Janicot clan!"
Mary tilted her head, "
Wait, two women is enough for a clan?"
"
Hush, Maryam! The point is-- it wasn't easy to track down your father, a full blooded Wabanaki Indian-- and I knew he wasn't going to stay-- that didn't matter though. All I've ever wanted was you. The spirits willed it, hundreds of years ago-- with each new life we create Maryam, the Morning Dawn Men live on. We live on, in you." By now Diana's hand was planted firmly against Mary's chest.
"
I'm just saying maybe I'd be honoring the spirits or whatever if two women can be considered a clan."
"
MARYAM."
"
What? It feels like maybe my Wabanaki heritage is telling me to find some dime and start a new tribe or whatever with her. Hey, if two women can be a clan can they also be a tribe? Or is that just two guys? Can I found two girl lesbian tribe? Can I call it quest?"
"
MARYAM, I AM SERIOUS." Her voice boomed.
Mary gave a weak shrug, "
Okay...? Christ, sorry."
"
Thank you." One second the fury of a tempest, the next, a still lake.
"
It's whatever..." Her mother was just one of those people. She was fine with going on and on about the importance of ancestry and spirits or whatever-- but
spirits forbid you want to talk to her about something personal... like sexuality, or perhaps dreams, or even with something as simple as conversational humor... She'd snap. She was a woman who lived in her own reality, and after a lifetime of dealing with it, Mary knew exactly how to lie to her and game it. "
I'm just going out for a school club, it's really not a big deal."
"
A club!" Diana narrowed her eyes with suspicion, "
This early? And on a Saturday?"
Mary shrugged, creaking open the door, "
What can I say? It's run by a real weirdo."
"
Who? I want to know the name of whoever is worth it to get you up this early on a Saturday! I may know this kid's mother..."
"
Ohh..." That was unexpected. Mary paused in thought as she inched out of the widening crack she had made in the door, "
Kanoa? You've probably never heard of her"
Suddenly, a strange look came across Diana's face. As if she had just swallowed something sour, her eyes flicked away from her daughter's, "
Hmmm."
90% outside now, Mary risked asking, "
Is something wrong?"
"
Oh!" The gaiety returned to Diana, "
No, nothing my Maryam! Enjoy your day, don't be too late getting back!"
And with that, came a sigh of relief. Mary was outside. Next stop was...
The sight of the Morning star reminded Mary of how little sleep she was running on.
...
Starbucks, then the park.
~~~
400 years ago
He is not Lucifer, but he is a Morning Star.
Nmitôgwesna spempik aiian.
Helel.
I see him in the skies.
Sôgmowal negwadji eliwisian.
In the smokey black clouds.
K'tabaldamwôgan paiômwiji.
And a woman.
Kolaldamwôgan.
Is she his wife?
Likitôgwadji.
Or his mother?
Tali kik taôlawi.
A whore?
Wôkwses.
Tali spemkik.
I find her in the clouds as white as snow.
Alnôbak ta Wôbanakiak aiian.
I see the spirits.
Wiji ali Miguen.
They know.
N'palal.
The spirits know I see them.
Nsôzek tali kik Sanôba aiian.
They are weak.
Wiji kadniwadaki tôni majigek.
Creation and destruction.
Helel u Wôkwses.
Mother and Father.
Helel u Wôkwses.
Beauty and storm.
Helel u Wôkwses.
They know they are weak.
Wiji kadniwadaki tôni majigek.
I hear the chants.
Nsôzek nikwôbi.
I see the smoke.
Pehanem mawôak.
It surrounds them, with the same shade of an amethyst.
Adah fleur adamah.
~~~
An amethyst stream of haze left Mary's lips. The smoke reminded her of the aura she had within her, the lilac colored fog that she could bring from within her into the physical world. Kanoa had seemed surprised with how quickly Mary picked up on the natural ability, thinking on it though, it felt about as easy to Mary as lighting one of her lavender beauties. What was it that brought about this feeling? This wasn't an altschmerz, the thought was a new blackguard on her consciousness.
Had she smoked that much? That it's hueful essence had become an indistinguishable part of
her on some pata'phsyical level. Was she to believe the match in was a coincidence? Both like Barney's hide. A consequate of the anonymous Prometheus to her in night terrors. In a moment, it didn't surprise her too much.
In another moment, it concerned her as the group walked through the forest.
Lachesism struck as she inhaled again of the burning herbs. She dearly wanted to cough. To feel some negative sensation that may instantaneously condition some Pavlovian response in her crown. She thought of coughing. Not quite. She thought of thinking of coughing, perhaps thinking of the thought of the negative immediate response to smoke might have some effect? Smoke was something that the Mary within the thoughts of the Mary in the thoughts of the Mary who thought of coughing for the Mary in the lowest layer of the meta stacked Pavlovian-Tolstoy cake she was creating would find repulsive. If she thought it was. She didn't.
She was thinking of thinking of thinking of thinking of coughing. Meanwhile, Maxwell huffed after his hissy fit.
"And today, I thought about nothing."That the thick vapor might not feel like it was some part of her-- she already felt that had at least two parts to many. Dualism in flaws was something she could handle, quintessential to one of ambedo, some would say. At least two.
Three though-- wouldn't that would be a strike? In like, sports? Like three strikes to score a touchdown on the green with a soccerball... with a hockey stick pigskin? Then the bigman slamdunk alleyoops for the Nascar?
She simply didn't... couldn't know enough about it all. Sports included.
This was adding on to Mary's collection of unanswered question her occhiolic mind was only mildly perturbed as gathering in the smokey dust of her subconscious. She trusted Kanoa-- or maybe Mary was biased, maybe dualism associated with having ones blood run like a drive of carmine jackrabbits chased by Mourning Star braves had something to do with it. A hand made it's way to her cheek; warmth associated with the purple fire she could bring to her hands met the warmth of blood gushing under the dermis.
What eustress!? Gucci.Jesus Christ, shut up you nerd...Mary's egoic sphere was established as she listened to her music. The group walked in silence to the location where they'd, presumably, be swimming. The sounds of nature, 120 something pound feet crunching temperate leaves, and hormonal huffs were lost on her for a moment. Words bombarded her ears through magic earbuds, the other music was lost on her, she wasn't even considering it-- perhaps to the chargin' of John Cage and Moondog. The lavender essence was who she was.
She didn't know much.
She didn't
really know anything!
But she knew that she was comfortable telling herself that.
"Liberal libertine Maryam,
likely living loosely,
lines of la gaudière lavender,
lovely-- la cuna legs,
liberosic lols, like, laksmi,
loving lacking loads of liability.
Life is latesummer. Lo!
Listening, Loyalty, Logic!
Laaaaaaaame! Lets lose~ lue,
Lalalali-Mauerbauertraurigkeitia"
lelMary pulled off her headphones as the group stood over the rill. August was having nothing to do with the swimming mission... monachopsis perhaps? A tilt of Mary's head indicated that Mary was interested in her-- a socially accepted level of interest. She wouldn't ask, of course. She couldn't break the medium of existence between the two to actually ask. August seemed plucky enough. Whatever it was, it probably wouldn't be helped with pixie dust and pop culture references.
A swim sounded lovely to Mary. She was tired, the brisk water would probably help wake her out, and she
might have another heart attack if she had another cup of coffee, no matter how damn fine.
Mary was lifted off the ground. She didn't react, besides the derpy stare that naturally occurs when on is spun around by the fellow who moments ago was speaking to himself. As Mary registered completely what was happening, she was set down-- she was face to face with a smiling Jackson. His pupils were glittering, bottomless and opaque and the smile, to her, was genuine.
"I can't thank you enough for that advice, seriously. Hell, if it wouldn't be awkward as hell, I'd kiss you right now.""
I'd kiss me right now, too." She said, placing a hand on his shoulder, "
I am very kissable."
He continued:
"Now then, since I was dealing with an internal crisis on how much my life sucks, I missed all of what was just said, so can somebody run me through it again, and is August all right, she's not looking too good."Nodus tollensShe briefly regarded August, "
I think she's dealing with a lot inside right now. I really couldn't imagine what it's like to feel the emotions of those you touch-- I barely feel my own. And that's on top of this..." She downed her potion as an example, it tasted like sour milk and saltwater. "
...It's stuff to make you question the entire narrative of your life." Now kneeling, Mary took off her shoes, At least, It's what I'm feeling. I don't know, guess I'm projecting? Anyway..."
--Narc anecdoche. Was all that really apropos here, Daniel?
"
Nah." Mary responded, a pile sat near August, her shoes, socks and electronics all laid in a neat little nest, she removed her jacket, "
Who cares? Just go for it and don't do anything retarded. The more we overthink, the more time the fox has the kid."
And with that, Mary charged for the water. Bracing herself for coolness-- the moment before she leap from shore, in one swift moment, off came tank top-- and then she jumped for it, flying through the air for an instant before splashing down.
As she surfaced, she registered two feelings; icy coolness, and renewed. Her deadpan resumed. "
Do you get it? I'm like Pussy Riot."
kapuchu