Marion's Memoirs

19. Revisitation Theatre

The year is 1984; the day is the 25th of October.  The clock has just struck three, its pendulum swinging back and forth idly.  In the oaken room, only two people are to be found, and both of them lay back in the hospital bed swaddled in various cloths.  The bigger of the two, as of today, is newly a mother.  Strands of wheat-coloured hair linger over her face drenched in sweat, and her skin faintly shimmers with moisture and strain.  But she smiles nonetheless.

"Welcome to the world, sweetheart," she mumbles into the bundle of muslin that cocoons the newborn.  "It was a difficult journey, but it's been worth it."  Lucille gazes adoringly at the small, pink face that peers out of the cloth.  "You have my eyes, don't you?"

And it's true.  The baby stares blankly, and her tiny eyes sparkle blue, yet a hint of grey swims beneath them.  The same goes for her mother, despite the obvious difference in their faces.  

"I think I've decided your name," Lucille murmurs.  "It's the most fitting one I can think of.  Ezekiel might not approve, but I was the one who fought to get you here.  I'll decide, not him."  Deviance pulls at the corner of the woman's lips but doesn't show itself any more than a millimetre.  "You're worth all the papers and rings in the world, darling."

Then the woman morphs.  The baby disappears.  The hospital room is no more.  

Houses spring up in their place, topiaries and greenery and flora winding around with them, and a path of cobblestone paves itself on the ground.  A slight breeze ruffles the grass and the trees sway in rhythm with it, as though part of a silent dance.  Lucille now is several feet shorter, hair significantly less marred by grey, and she wears a navy-blue dress cinched in at the waist instead of a hospital gown.  She runs away from the areas of sun and roses and further into the shadows of the village, climbing through multiple bushes and going further and further into places light couldn't touch.  And somebody else is found, sitting in a recess of damp grass and toadstools, holding a strangled-looking rat.

"Katie!" Lucille announces cheerfully, much to the annoyance of the girl sitting down.  "Today there's a fair in the village green! What are you doing here?  Come with me!"

The girl shoots a poisonous green glare back at her, features almost ophidian.  She's a stark contrast to Lucille, as her clothing isn't nearly as neat and her hair is dishevelled and greasy; she wears a loosely-fitting beige shirt that looks as though it was made from a burlap sack and a pair of denim shorts that don't look as if their length is by design.  Her almond-coloured hair is unbrushed and flares about her head like a mane.  "How do you keep finding me?" she hisses.  "I'm trying to hide from you.  Can't you see?"

Lucille sighs melodramatically.  "And why do you have to be so mean to me?  I'm not trying to hurt your feelings.  I just want to be your friend, Katie."

"You're so annoying," the girl mutters, picking at the rat's fur.  "How can you be so cheerful all the time?  And I told you to stop calling me that name!  My name is Cassiopia, okay?!"

"No it isn't," Lucille sighs again.  "Look, I know you're sad, and you have a right to be!  Everyone in the neighbourhood can hear when your parents shout at you and hit you.  But you don't need to push everyone else away, because we want to help you!  If you want, look, you can stay in the spare room at my house and not with your parents, and my mum said she'd treat you just like another member of the family, and you wouldn't be neglected, not with us!"

The raggedy girl's face burns scarlet with hatred, and tears begin to boil in her eyes.  "That's none of anyone's business, and especially not yours," she murmurs, voice rasping.  Her grip tightens around the rat, whose life looks to be on the verge of finishing shortly.  "Go away."