The Periods of Being

Chapter II

Chapter II

     The sound of her retching her insides out is unbearable. Some of it splatters on the inside of the door, and to her amazement, none get on her black, mourning dress. Her chin isn't left as grateful, as well as her lips. She licks them and feels her stomach flip once more. She can hear the gasps from the spectators, but she doesn't take note of them. All she can hear is the crunch of gravel as someone approaches her. The world stops around her and her heart beats loudly. Olive keeps her head down low in shame as she wipes her mouth on the back of her long, fitted sleeve. The remark of not getting any on her dress is now a lie. The substance stains in a gross, tan color. The sight of it makes her feel like she might get sick again, and a pain of guilt hits her at the fact that someone will be washing this soon.

     Shoes step into her view of the gravel ground and she looks up to find hands removing her veil. She'd forgotten about it. It is covered in her mess. The hands work diligently to remove it in order to be careful to not get any in her hair, and on themselves. When she feels the slip of the veil off her, she looks up. She expects to find her mother. She expects to find her mother offering her words of comfort, but she doesn't. Instead, she finds Mr. Hadden.

     He drapes the veil over his arm, not bothering to worry about it getting on him, and pulls out a handkerchief for her to clean herself. She takes the handkerchief with diligent fingers and wipes her mouth clean of the taste of sour acid. She sends over a small thank you to him.

     "Are you okay?" He whispers to her. "Did my driving make you carsick?"

    Carsick. The type of sickness is foreign to her. The old chauffeur drove rough— which is the reason that Freya complained about him and is probably the reason her family replaced him. If old age wasn't the factor of the decision, then his driving was. She never fell ill when he was behind the wheel, and she certainly isn't car sick at this moment, but he gave her a way out of the real reason, so she grasps for it like a lifeline.

    "I get car sick a lot; I should've warned you." She licks her lips again in mistake and she gags at the taste once again. A small white lie will help him in this manner to not worry, so she didn't mind lying to him if it helped his conscience. She holds the handkerchief out to him. His hands reach out and for a moment touch her gloved hand. She gazes to him and finally notices that his eyes aren't fresh and young— they are blue, like the aged sea.

     His hand offers a lift down and over the pile of vomit that covers the gravel. The only relief to the mess is that dark clouds that hang overhead that will soon bring rain. As she steps down, another pair of footsteps come over. This time, she remembers the pair of black heels that her mother wore when Grandfather passed.

     Olive glances her mother's way. Her mother wears a black dress like hers but wears it in a more fashionably, like black is her color of taste. Her mother dismisses Mr. Hadden and gifts Olive the compassion that she should've received when she was throwing up.

     "Let's get you inside and washed up." Her voice is stern but motherly. A motherly stern that is more worrisome than anything else, but even with the worry, Olive wishes that she asked the same question Mr. Hadden had.

     What's different from Mr. Hadden and her mother, though, is that her mother knows that she isn't okay. And not because she just vomited, but because her mother knew her husband. She can grieve with her. He can't.

     When they are nearing the family, she drapes her hand over her daughter's shoulders and whispers into her ear:

     "You'll be okay."

     The words echo through her ear canal, bouncing off her eardrums with a long clang that runs down to her heart. She winces. You'll be okay. The words feel unreal. She would rather be asked if she was okay rather than being told that she would be. She doesn't feel like she would be. Not with the flipping of her stomach and the breaking of her heart. All she feels is nothing close to being okay. She is far from it. But, she takes her mother's words and holds onto them. If her mother thinks so, then she must hope so as well. But God will make sure she isn't. This is her punishment after all.