Chapter 13 #3
“You said she was a maid, living a life of work and chores. Couldn’t you offer her a night of wonders?
Tristan, love, every young woman dreams of going to a ball, even just once in her life.
” She purses her lips. “It is a masquerade ball, no one could recognize her.” Would Ella want that?
If she were to disguise herself, then perhaps things could be safer than I thought.
Only she can tell me. If I have learned anything so far, it is not to make decisions for her without her consent.
“We’ll see,” I offer. “I need to go. Thank you for…” I wave in the air. The advice? Her acceptance of Ella? Tonight brought us closer together than we had ever been, and I have a feeling that was quite enough for both of us.
“I’ll…”
“Yes, of course. Just see yourself out, love.”
“Goodnight, Mother.” Kissing her fast on the cheek, she pats my shoulder.
“Off you go,” she mutters. And despite the awkwardness as I pass the tall gray stone threshold, I hold back a smile. Ten p.m. Two more hours, and I will climb on the side of her house. Until then, I am going to blow off some much-needed steam on the treadmill.
Ella
“Are you sure?” Valeria whispers in the kitchen as I stop mid-stairs, hearing them hushing behind the wall. What are they saying? I better not be caught eavesdropping, or Mara will have me locked up in my room like last time.
“Ella wouldn’t say any…” I’m about to go up when I hear my name on Emily’s lips.
Gently, I tiptoe my way down, waiting on the last stair.
Are they plotting against me like the time they covered my bedsheets in shaving cream?
The hours it took me to clean. It is eleven, and I am already in my pajamas.
I mean, if a large white T-shirt from Dad and a pair of black leggings count as pajamas, it is hard to tell when the girls only have matching silky pastel sets.
“Nothing has been decided yet… Leverage… If either of you talk…” Mara’s voice gets louder, hushing like a middle schooler. “Do not befriend…for long…” Small gasps come out, echoing against the wall. If only I could get closer. “Not…to be trusted…making myself clear?”
“Yes, Mom,” they answer in chorus as I hear their steps moving fast on the checkered floor. I climb back up fast. Phew. At least no one saw me. What was that?
They are definitely planning something, and the fact that Mara is involved sends a trail of sweat down my spine.
Should I pack my clothes and run off now?
What about Dad? Earlier, when I came back, between chores, I went to see him while he was sleeping, his face was paler than yesterday.
Has he lost more weight? I will need to ask his doctor.
I thought his state was stabilizing, and still…
if I had not checked his pulse, I would not have been able to swear that he was alive.
And why has he been sleeping so much more lately?
Coming back to my room, wishing I had grabbed an apple to sustain the lack of dinner since Mara shushed me out of the kitchen before I could swallow anything, I lie under my bed.
In my space, big enough to fit me, between the mattress and the floor, where I have laid a blanket so I would not be completely on the ground.
When life does not make sense anymore and the sudden urge to disappear takes me, I go there.
Hiding beneath furniture, like a child who had a nightmare and with no one to console her.
It is embarrassing, but at least here, no one can find me.
There is just enough room for my arms to wrap around my torso, giving myself crumbs of comfort, closing my eyes as if they were his around me.
What were they doing downstairs? Am I imagining this?
I doubt they would plan any sort of surprise for me, so…
could they want to get rid of me? No. This is madness.
She spent time with me today, even if it was not what I was expecting. Still, she tried…right?
So much is happening without giving me any time to process anything.
And with Tristan’s kiss today, I am struggling to swim in a ragged ocean.
Waves keep crushing me each time I get my head out of the water, inhaling him, seeing him on the shore, calling my name, telling me that I can swim, that I can do this.
But how could we ever be more, with him being him and me being a maid, invisible and silent, a shadow of myself?
Only a spark of light comes to me. Perhaps I could find a way out. Perhaps accepting help is not so bad. But I would never want Tristan to think that this is all I am here for. How could I show him that he can trust me? That being near him is becoming as vital as oxygen?
“Tris… Tris… Tristan,” I try to say, silence mocking me, the syllables echoing into a void.
What were the odds of finding a man who would see me for me?
Not only accepting my mutism, but embracing it by signing every chance he gets.
In one hour, he will be there, knocking at my window like Romeo for Juliet.
Only they didn’t have a happy ending.
And I hope, I hope our story will turn in a different direction.