Peaches

The Present

Jean woke up at dawn. It was a groggy awakening to a quiet house, but she knew everybody was already up. On every birthday, Mama woke everyone besides the birthday baby up as early as she could, so they could tidy the house and make all the food. She always had them make a white buttercream frosting cake, and it was so sugary that it made the whole house smell like it. They didn't have sweets often, only on special occasions and then they were gone in a heartbeat. She could already smell the cake by the time she hopped out of her bed.

She found that they were all busy, setting out the nicer table cloths and polishing the floors. It took them a moment for them to even realize that she was up and about. "Jeanie? What are you doing awake?" Mama said, running up to her and briefly rubbing her arm. "God, I haven't even started breakfast yet." She mumbled to herself, clicking her tongue. It seemed like seconds before she was already taking out all the fixings for the meal.

Eggs and toast. Nothing fancy, really, but she always made the extra effort and dug a little whole in the bread for the egg to settle in. It was better than the usual oatmeal, and Jean was glad she didn't have to avoid it touching her tongue. Mama put it out on her good blue plates, and watched her eat it till it was all gone.

"Do you feel any different?" Her Pa said, taking the now empty plates away. He was looking at her from over his shoulder.

Jean hated that question. She shook her head yes, smiling brightly, but in reality, she didn't feel any different. She was exactly the same.

...

They all wanted her to leave, to go some place where she couldn't see what they were doing for her. Mama pushed her up in the attic, to look through the numerous boxes for something pretty to wear. At first, the hatch didn't want to open, probably because it hadn't been pulled down in so long, but when it finally did, all the build up dust and cobwebs feel out onto her face. Jean sneezed and rubbed her eyelids before climbing up into the dimly lit room.

The attic was built for someone about half a foot shorter than Jean, forcing her to duck as she walked around, kicking old newspapers and cardboard packages to the side. She used too much force with one and knocked it open, scattering old sepia-tinted photographs all over. Jean bent down, trying to pick them up all at once, but she stopped.

Jean found herself blushing. They were all of women, naked women. She found she wanted to stop looking at them immediately, but she couldn't. It was as if they were glued to her hands. There was something beautifully illicit about them, kissing and holding each other as lovers did, looking at the camera with no shame entirely. But still, there was something even more funny about them. She squinted, peered closer, and realized that one of the frequent models in the photographs was her mother. Jean's eyes widened, and she quickly shoved the pictures back into their box.

Trying her best to push aside what she just saw, Jean began to dig into one of the numerous trunks. The first was full of old baby clothes and bibs, things they saved in case there ever was a new baby. Jean was sure that there wasn't going to be any more, not until at least Mary got married, but you never quite knew what life was gonna deal out.

As she opened the second trunk the sharp odor of mothballs floated to her nose. Again, it was clothes, but these were more likely to fit. After tearing off her nightie and finding something that wasn't completely god awful, she actually felt nice. The dress she found was a sheer peach, faintly worn but not as bad as the clothes in her closet. Since there were no mirrors, she couldn't really see herself and it felt a tiny bit awkward, but when she looked down at herself it seemed fine.

When she crawled back down the hatch, the sun was bright and shining down the hallway like a heat lamp. Everything else, was almost the same, except for the flowers. All different kinds: lavender, daisies, marigolds, and the like. Their perfumes flooded the whole house with a wonderful scent, which only combined with the cake and made it so much better.