The Periods of Being

Chapter IV

Chapter IV

    She stares at herself in the mirror as Ms. Lillian puts the last pin in her curled, pinned-up hair. She looks like a goddess in the mirror, but as she looks deep— and closer— into her blotchy eyes and her pale cheeks, she feels everything but it. She feels like a widow that should stay in her room as long as she deems fit. To her, two and a half years doesn't sound enough of a mourning period. She finds herself wanting to stay in her room until she can't stand it. When that will be, she isn't sure.

     It is a depressing idea to want to wallow in the shallow thoughts of her mind and her now destined reality, but she is slowly leaning toward asking Ms. Lillian to see about the possibilities of undoing her hair and unzipping this dress off of her as she watches the lady's maid pick up the stray pins and put them into their home, a brown jewelry box. She keeps her mouth shut as Ms. Lillian steps back to inspect her masterpiece. Then, she looks into the mirror at Olive with a smile.

     "You look beautiful," she plasters a smile on her face to give Olive a reason to smile with her. Her lips stay in their grave of a flat line.

     "Thank you," is all she utters as she sits up and grabs her black gloves from the vanity. She slips them on and pulls the silk material up to her elbows. A black beaded necklace finishes her outfit. She plays with the beads once they are around her neck while she slips on her heels.

     "Thank you for helping me, Ms. Lillian," she repeats, speaking up this time.

     "It was my pleasure, Lady Olive." She takes the dress that she was previously wearing and drapes it over her arm, reminding her of Mr. Hadden with her dirty veil. She wonders now whatever happened to her veil. And Mr. Hadden.

     "Ms. Lillian?" She calls out before the lady's maid can leave the room, possibly to go back to the servant's hall to wait for dinner as well. She spins to face Olive with another smile. The smiling is starting to worry her. She must've been told to smile a lot. Olive's eyes fall to the black armband wrapped around her forearm. Smiling is never the best cure for death.

     "Yes, m'lady?"

     "Has my veil been washed?"

     Ms. Lillian nods with another smile on her face. Olive bites down on a frown.

    "Yes, it has been. I can bring it up in the morning for you. Or do you want it now?"

    Olive puts up a hand to show that wouldn't be necessary. "Tomorrow will be fine, thank you." She waits for Ms. Lillian to leave before she glances back at herself in the mirror. When the door clicks to a close, her eyes drift over to the mirror on the vanity. Her eyes are bloodshot. Her frown is now an accessory to her mourning gown. The black makes her want to scream. Her reflection makes her want to scream.

    "I want you here." She whispers. "I want you next to me. Right now."

     Are you looking down at me? The question hitches in her throat, but she doesn't dare to ask it. She doesn't want him looking down at her. She wants him here. With her. In this room. She holds her stomach and tries to hold in the tears. Olive will soon have to leave this room to avoid having someone to escort her down. She can't cry now. All she can do is wipe the ghost tears away. The throwing up scene was enough commotion for the day, so she removes her eyes from the mirror.

     Breathe in, and breathe out, she can hear Mark's words tell her. He told her this once before and at this moment, she needs to hear it. If he can't say it now, his lingering, past voice does the trick to get her out of the door, even when she wants to fall to the floor and ask for him to speak to her more. She closes the door behind her and slips down the hallway to descend down the staircase. She sees no one as she walks to the drawing-room. A voice in the back of her mind— her voice this time— tells her that her family is waiting for her. The thought sinks into her heart and she wonders if it is worth it to go into the drawing-room with all of them waiting.