+1+
Clara
“No. . . Not like that. It’s a cushion cut diamond with a split shank… yes, like that but bigger.”
The woman behind the counter pulled out the ring and laid it on the counter. She moved her huge purple glasses up her nose and rubbed her eyes.
“But”, I continued looking through the jewelry case, “It had diamonds on the shank. I really need it to be identical.”
“I can add some more glass diamonds give me a second.” she said. She had a thick accent to her French that I couldn’t place.
I browse around the store while she works on the piece. It was a cluttered little shop filled with the most unique and eclectic jewelry I’d ever seen. When she comes back with the ring my heart nearly drops, it’s a perfect duplicate to the half million dollar engagement ring. Which I will totally find . . . hopefully.
After my class that morning, I stopped by The Huit Theatre hoping I could go in to look for the ring, but the theater closed for construction. it.
“2400”, the woman said slamming a credit card machine on to the counter.
“For costume jewelry?”
“For custom costume jewelry”, She said. I hadn’t even asked if the modification was extra.
“Can I write a check?”
“No checks. Look dear, you’re carrying a ten thousand dollar bag so I don’t know why you are fretting.”
I consciously clutched my Birkin to my side. This has been the last Christmas present my mother gave me. What did this lady know? Anyway the ring was too perfect of a replica for me to even try haggling. I’d left work early and driven all over Paris searching for a costume shop that had a ring similar to my engagement ring. After hours of looking I found the perfect ring sitting in the window of a small shop right here in Versailles’s theater district.
I dug out my wallet and swiped my credit card.
“Give me your address I’ll send you the authentication papers.” She said.
I give her the address and she types it into her computer
“I can’t find it.”
“It’s off Monet drive. Well, its 10 miles off Monet drive. It’s a . . . you know what it’s fine, I have a P.O box in town—I mean a--”
Hmm, I thought for a moment how to say Post office box in French.
“Château Mercier?” The woman stepped back and looked me up and down.
“Yes. You know it?”
“That place is a dump. Are you squatting?”
“Oh, no. it’s not. We renovated it. The roof has been restored, there are marble floor in the foyer and the windows have been restored. It’s amazing really. You should see it . . . we’re having a housewarming party in a few weeks. I’d be delighted if you came”
What the hell was I saying? I didn’t even know her name and I was inviting her to a party that I had only tangentially mentioned this morning?
“I mean we’re new to town and would love to show off the renovation. Kind of a welcome to the neighborhood.”
“Honey, I don’t live in that neighborhood.”
“It doesn’t matter. We have room for everyone and you’d be perfectly suited for the party.”
“Why is that?”
I looked around her little shop at the racks of bangles, necklaces and rings. I felt a strange little thrill that I couldn’t place, then wrapped my fingers around a long string of faux pearls. Next tot he pearls was a pearlescent full face masque and it looked like it had . . . potential.
“It’s a costume party . . . a masquerade.”
+++
Before I left the shop Belladonna threw in a pair of free emerald earrings that had appeared onstage in King Louis XVI several times. The facets weren’t quite right but I suddenly had Rose’s birthday present. In a way I felt like I broke even.
I’d put on my flats and took the long way back to my car, feeling victorious with that little orange bag. The universe must have thought I was a little too cocky because when I passed the café on the next block I saw Mr. Fierro sitting in the window . . . and he saw me. What were the chances? I broke into an easy smile and waived to him. I went to the front door cursing myself and putting the fake ring on before walking in.
The café was nearly empty and the waiter was taking away a bowl, which was probably soup but Mr. Fierro was really more inclined to lightly salted vegetable broth. If he ever ate at all that is.
“Hi”, I said
“Shouldn’t you be at the university?” He asked folding up what looked like the new blueprints for Château Mercier.
“Yes”, I said, then more firmly, “Yes, but I took the afternoon off to . . . have lunch with you.”
Fierro’s not really paying attention to me, but he is just enough to ask this.
“How did you know I’d be here?”
“Emile said you like to come here on Monday. I know how you like order and schedules and all. Are those the blue prints?”
“Yes, I’m thinking about removing the fireplace from my bedroom.”
“At least it keeps you warm the rest of the house is freezing.”
The waiter brings out tea, which was just a bit to English for coffee loving French, but since we were clearly Americans the waiter didn’t seem put out. The tea was fragrant and overtly floral. The waiter brings out two cups on saucers, I hesitate to turn mine over.
I run my thumb over the fake engagement ring and lean in just a little bit.
“You know Fierro, I never got to finish talking to you about throwing a housewarming party. I know the closest neighborhood is 10 miles away but we do have neighbors and people have noticed all the construction. I just thought it’s be a nice way to meet people and show off the renovation. And you know how it’s going to be with Rose. Emile can plan it and it’s be a good networking opportunity for the business and the foundation.”
"How is the foundation going, by the way ?"
I twisted my hands under the table. I still had a ton of paperwork to file before setting up the charity.
"It's a work in progress but it has nothing to so with throwing a party."
“I just don’t know if that’s wise, Ms. DeLune.” He poured his tea, then flipped my cup over and filled it.
“Why not?” I asked, “ It would only be just the one time I’m not looking to make lifelong friends. Just acquaintances. Acceptance. Community”
“No” Fierro said and turned his eyes back out the window
“What?”
“It’s just not a good time”, he said and it took him longer than I’d expected to realize that my over poured teacup was spilling over into the saucer.
“It will be very small. 30 people maybe? It’s my home too and I —“
“If I agree to this . . . will you no longer lie to me?” He asked. His eyes still lingering out the window
“What?”
“I’d like to know Ms. DeLune if I will I have to bargain with you for respect like Lucie.”
It amazed me how many times in one day Lucie came up. At this point I wasn’t sure if this was just the shadow all second wives felt or if it was something more.
“What are you talking about?” I said moving my left hand with the fake ring under the table.
“You didn’t know I was going to be here. I didn’t know I’d be here. I only stopped because I was at the clerk’s office.”
“Why were you at the . . . clerk’s office”, I asked.
“I was looking to do some more research on the house. Why are you lying to me Clara?”
I didn’t want to lie but I couldn’t tell him that I lost his ring.
“I was shopping. I know I shouldn’t have and we are trying to live simpler but I just saw something I thought Rose would like“
A little white lie. A little one. Also invoking Roses’ name would certainly help. I nervously pulled at the decorative hair pin I’d used to keep my hair off my back.
“Alright, then”, he said which I took to mean he didn’t believe me.
“Maybe we can start planning the party now. This is going sound crazy but I was thinking a costume party . . . like a masquerade? Is that silly? I think it’s---”
“Now isn’t a good time to have people over. If you’ll excuse me I need to get back to the house” He said. He gathered the blueprints and what looked like scans of deeds and land surveyors. He also had his French to English dictionary which Rose had marked up
I tried to nonchalantly go back to my tea as he got up and left. I considered how I could fix this when my phone started to ring. Hardly anyone called me and it was a California area code.
“Hello?” I said
“Clara! It’s Eleanor”
“Well, duh”, I said. It had been years since I’d talked to Eleanor which was weird considering we’d called each other almost every day before I got busy with school and Rose.
“Guess what . . .”
“Oh God. Are you getting married?” I asked.
“No. But I heard you were. Congrats.”
“Oh, how did
you hear?", I hadn't really told anyone from back home.
“Claudia mentioned it. I want to see you, Clara.”
“I want to see you too, I’m thinking about visiting the states over Christmas—“
“No, I want to see you now. Granny and I are in Europe.” Eleanor squealed.
I took a minute to understand what I was hearing. Eleanor was in Europe with her grandmother? Eleanor was always modest about her background, having been raised by her grandmother on her grandfather’s pension.
“Are you serious?”
“Yes!” she said, “We’re going to France tomorrow. I want to see you Clara, we all miss you back home.”
“Okay. Sure. Yes. Let’s do it.”
We worked out some details before hanging up.
+2+
Clarence DeLune
It was the saddest song Clarence had ever heard and he’d had to spend last summer listening to some depressing band called Green Day that his eldest cousin, Audrey, had been obsessed with. This song was different. It was some sort of classical song. He didn’t just hear the sadness . . . he felt it. It was upbeat but off somehow. The music somehow ruining what had been rather good day.
After school he’d waited with Rose who had seated herself on one of the low walls surrounding the campus. She’d had her purple bag and a stack of Art books propped up next to her. She hadn’t seemed very interested in talking. Her eyes were closed and her face tilted up to the sky, her hair shifting to reveal two white earbuds in her ears.
“She’s late”, Rose had announced in a voice so quiet he barley heard it. Clarence pushed himself to sit next to her, letting his legs swing against the brick.
“I can call her—“
“CATCH SNOW WHITE!” a booming voice yelled from inside the courtyard.
Clarence turned and saw a group of boys playing in what he was pretty sure was Rugby uniforms, one of the boys tossed what looked like a white football over the gate, Rose turned just in time to raise her hands to defend herself and the ball smacked against her thin shoulders nearly knocking her off the low wall.
“You were supposed to catch it”, One of the boys yelled.
“Jerks”, Clarence yelled back. Suddenly wondering if that even translated, “Are you—“
Rose hopped off the wall and picked up the ball. She adjusted her strange gray glasses and threw the ball with both hands. It landed pathetically just a few inches away, which made the boys (and Clarence…but only a little) laugh some more.
Rose stood there with her thin willowy hands balled in a fist, considering how hard she was breathing that little throw had taken quite a bit out of her. The boy who’d thrown the ball came to get the ball and Rose just snapped, or he assumed she did. When he was close enough Rose tackled the boy
Clarence darted rfor his cousin not sure about the etiquette here. He tried to pull Rose off but she was very determined and he didn't want to hurt her. The boy was covering his face with his hands and calling Rose all sorts of names that just made her angrier. She’d dug her hands into the dirt and was trying to stuff it in his mouth. The boy pulled out one of Rose’s earbuds and Rose instantly rolled off of him and curled into a ball. Clarence looked around for a teacher as the rugby boys ran.
“No”, Rose said barley imperceptible, “No. No. NO. Shut up. NO”
Then everything stopped
Or at least if felt like everything stopped
The two cars driving past the school came to creaking halts, Clarence’s phone went black and a few other kids still in the courtyard started tapping black screens. Rose clawed into the dirt and screamed into the ground. Clarence stood by her looking around for help.
"It's okay", Clarence said, "They're gone."
Rose curled in tighter gripping her ears.
“Rose!” Clarence saw Clara jogging up the street in her heels. Clara grabbed Rose roughly by the shoulder, and pulled her up, “Rose come on we’re going to be late. You’re fine. Let’s go.”
Clara picked
up the wireless earbud and put it securely in Rose’s ear. Rose took a deep
breath and calmly sat up. Clarence’s phone lit back up again and as fast as
everything had stopped it continued again. The streetlights changed and the cars began to move again.
“Mother—“
“I don’t want
to hear it, Rose”, Clara said, "You have to stay calm. Remember ?"
Clara was quickly leading Rose out of the campus, Rose’s bag and books in her arms. Clarence jogged to catch up to his sister as she power walked to where her white Range Rover was parked right in the middle of the street. Clarence noted the white rugby ball was by the tire . . . how had it rolled all the way up the street? Clara didn’t even wait for them to buckle up as she made an illegal U-turn and headed towards Downtown Paris.
Rose demurely removed her school jacket and brushed the dirt of her skirt. Except for the blotchy skin, she was the image of perfection all of a sudden. Eyes unblinking hands neatly posed.
“I’m sorry I was late”, Clara said, “I—“
“You found Papa’s ring.”, Rose said
His sister tightened her hands on the wheel and turned into a spot in front of the New Community School. Clarence just noticed the shiny diamond ring his sister was wearing. It was bigger than the one Claudia had thrown at her ex-husband. An incident which had caused Clarence to miss two day of school so he could be a witness at a custody hearing.
“Mhmm”, she said hopping out of the car and opening Rose’s door, “Hurry, you’ll be late to class.”
Clara rummaged in the trunk for an art case, she gave it to Rose and watched as she wandered into the building, because as far as Clarence was concerned Rose never quiet seemed to walk. She wandered. As if she was perpetually lost.
“She’s taking Art Foundation”, Clara explained, “The art teacher suggested it-”
“What happened back there”, Clarence asked, “She seemed … really upset. One minute she was really laying into that jerk and then. . . She was just . . . on the ground. I didn’t know what to do”
“Oh, um. . . Rose is just sensitive to some sounds, she likes to listen to white noise? Um, I swear most of the time she’s just reading lips. . . She’s fine. I’m glad you were there to keep her safe."
"I wasn't really, though", Clarence said realizing that he should have been. He was after all her Uncle.
"Well, you didn't stare like the other kids did. That's what family does for one another. That's what we are."
While Rose was in class his sister took Clarence to buy and Xbox for his room, but she seemed distracted. Being the youngest sister Clara had always been the fun one. She’s always seemed to be going to a new exciting place, but he had a hard time seeing it now.
Once they all got back to the house, Clara made Mom’s tomato basil chicken, a recipe his mother had yet to cook for him, but he’d had it enough with his sisters to know it when he tasted it. Rose had just eaten the cooked tomatoes and the leftover ball of mozzarella. Clarence joined everyone in drawing room after dinner. Clara had in a pair of big wireless headphones, and was watching a YouTube video while trying to hold her guitar, her feet propped up on an old trunk. He never realized how . . . young his sister looked until then.
Rose’s father appeared only after dinner. The so called Mr. Fierro was an elusive man and Clarence was glad he hadn’t tried to ‘parent’ him just yet. Instead he was playing chess with Rose who had a big up of hot tea sweetened with orange and lemon slices and a cinnamon stick. Clarence hadn’t had enough time to have an opinion on the man. He was nicer to Clara than Derek had been to Claudia, but he didn’t feel essential like Colin was to his sister Clarice.
Even though his sister told him he could turn on the TV that was hidden in a cabinet . . . it felt strange to. Instead he pretended to be on his phone. At some point he got distracted by the mantle filled with pictures of Rosalie. Just filled with them. There were various school pictures. Photos that had been taken when she was in a hospital. Various photos that looked as if they had been taken by surprise. None from when she was a baby. She was alone in all the photos and only one could pass as her smiling.
Clarence turned around just in time to see Rose knock her big teacup onto the chess board. She twisted her mouth in frustration and something in the room shifted. He felt the same feeling of unease he’d felt earlier. Clarence squinted his eyes and saw one of the chess pieces begin to spin counterclockwise. He looked over again but Rose’s father snapped the travel board closed.
Rose looked up and their equally off colored eyes lingered on one another.
“I’m sorry”,
she whispered but he didn't think it was about the board.
“It’s alright”, he said tucking the game under one arm. His eyes shifting to Clara whose noise-proof headphones left her none the wiser, “You should get ready for bed. It’s late”
It was only 8pm but Clarence took that as his moment to leave too. Rose (Though he hadn’t invited her) followed Clarence to his room and watched curiously (and silently) while he hooked up the Xbox. She looked at the instructions, she poked at the console and then lost interest before he got it up and working. None of his friends were up so he played alone since he’d promised his sister he wouldn’t play with strangers.
Then the song started
At first he thought it was coming from the game . . . but when he paused the game the eerie song just got louder. He opened his bedroom door and the dark piano melody echoed off the high ceilings. It was such a sad tone. It sounded like death.
He followed the music down the steps, the spiral staircase was slippery and cold under his bare feet. He went to the drawing room and saw it had been shuttered down for the night. He followed the music into the kitchen and he realized the music was coming from his sister’s studio, it was a windowed room that was divided from the kitchen by a half wall (“Couldn’t afford a whole wall” Claudia had leaned in and said)
He peered over the half wall expecting to surprise his sister, but the room was empty. Except for the piano. He rubbed his eyes for a moment.
No.
No Way.
He watched the black and white keys of the white grand piano move . . . by themselves. Somehow the keys found the right melody to create that sad song all by themselves. He felt a cold shiver and was mesmerized.
“Don’t.”
The whisper echoed across the room, he turned and saw his cousin in pink button up pajamas, a matching robe and house shoes.
“Are you doing that?”
“Don’t be silly. It’s . . . it’s a player piano”, she said, “If you touch it, you will ruin the song.”
“It’s a terrible song. It’s so sad. . .”
“You can come sleep in my room, you can’t hear it in there.”
“Why not?”
Rose thought about this.
“Acoustics?”
Clarence was
almost thirteen years old. He wasn’t afraid of music, yet he would sleep much
better in silence. That was it. He wasn’t afraid. Not at all. He just wanted a
good night sleep. He followed
his cousin out of studio and back up the spiral stairs, as Rose reached the
landing where the staircase split to the separate wings she stopped, her eyes trailingon the second floor.
“What is it?” Clarence asked
Rose turned to face him, her eyes were wide and following something behind Clarence. He turned but all he saw was the darkened foyer and an old trunk in the corner. One of Rose's wireless earbuds fell out of her ears. It smacked loudly as it bounced down the stairs. Rose bought her hands to her ears her delicate face scrunching up.
Not again.
“I'm trying. I'm. . . please, Stop.”, she said.
“Stop what?”
“I—I’m trying. Stop.”, she said pressing her hands over her ears and scrunching her eyes closed. She reached out for her earbud and Clarence tried to help her but it blended in with the white marble stairs. Rose was suddenly caught off balance and slid down the steps. Rose hit the last step hard and something rolled across the foyer.
“Rose”, Clarence scrambled down after her. Rose pulled herself up off the floor. Her colorless lips were now bright red and shiny with blood.
She looked fine.
Except for the giant gaping hole in her face where her eye was supposed to be. Clarence couldn’t control the scream that escaped his lips
“What the hell”, he cursed as skin sloughed over the eye shaped hole in her face.
Clarence jolted backwards staring into the wet black void where Rose’s eyeball was supposed to be. His cousin or whatever it was began crawling towards him, thin bony pale arms reaching out and sliding across the cold floor, like a zombie. He backed up against the front door, petrified into place.
The lights came on and for a split second – just a split second-he thought he saw a woman he didn’t recognize at the top of the stairs, the woman slid a white, blue and gold masque over her face then she was gone in a flash of red hair, shaking he turned his attention back to the figure crawling towards him. He heard footsteps and he saw Mr. Fierro at the top of the stairs. He ran down the steps and picked Rose up.
“Rose? Rose,
sweetheart . . . are you alright?” He sat on the stairs holding her, trying to
avoid her flailing limbs. He was momentarily distracted, his gaze turning . . .
to the same spot Clarence thought he’d seen.
. . Well? The woman from Rose’s drawing. The Cake Lady.
When Clarence saw his sister appear at the top of the stairs he had the strange urge to run to her. Clara yawned and took her time tying a robe around her thin lace trimmed romper, something Clarence wasn’t sure he liked his sister wearing. She shuffled over to Clarence and put an arm around him.
“H-her face”, Clarence said, “I didn’t do anything. She’s crazy. . . Her face . . . she . . . came after me. “
“It’s okay”, Clara said ruffling his hair. Clarence could smell the wine on his sister, “She wasn’t trying to get you.”
Clara bent down and picked up a shiny white ball that had rolled across the floor, Clara turned it over and he saw an iris imprinted on it that was the same uncanny color as his cousin’s eyes.
“She has a glass eye”, Clara said then whispered, “Cancer is a bitch.”
“Oh”, he said because what else was he supposed to say. Maybe if he was quiet long enough he could pretended like he didn’t just act like a lunatic. The more he looked at the eye, the more it seemed kind of cool to him.
Clara slipped the eye into the pocket of her robe and she put a causal arm around Clarence. Clarence never knew what to when girls started crying. Just hearing a girl cry made him feel squirmy and hearing Rose cry into her father’s shoulder felt extra squirmy.
“You’re fine Rose there is an extra one and --Oh my god, little brother you’re shaking”, Clara said running her hands through his hair, “Its fine. I guess I should have told you about her eye.”
“Yeah”, He said but he snuck a look at his distraught cousin. She couldn’t be this upset over an eye? He knew girls were like that about somethings . . . . but still.
“Tell me what you head Rose”, Mr. Fierro whispered to Rose.
“Nothing It’s so very quiet here Papa”, she said rubbing her real. . . eye. She suddenly sounded so young, “I just had a bad dream and wanted some milk. I slipped on the stairs. Honest”
Clara raised her eyebrow. Clarence didn’t remember seeing Rose slip. No she had seen something at the top of the stairs that had made her stepback. She's seen something just like he had.
“It’s probably all those terrible French revolution books you’re reading”, Clara said, “They are so graphic. All that beheading. Come on Clarence, I can give you half a pill to help you sleep.”
“I’m okay”, Clarence said.
Clarence checked his watch, it was nearly midnight and he realized it was sort of odd that Mr. Fierro was still dressed. His clothers were lightly dusted with soot, On the way upstairs Clarence picked up the earbud and thought to give it to Rose when she calmed down in the morning. A peace offering. An I’m-sorry-I-thought-you-were-a-zombie offering.That’s when he noticed the eerie song that had awoken him had stopped.
“Your player piano stopped”, Clarence said taking the stairs in step with his sister
She laughed
“Please, this isn’t a department store. I wouldn’t be caught dead with a player piano”
+++