Of Ginger & Spice

HM2V: Of Eights & Orchids

42: HM2V: Of Eights & Orchids

9 am, Two Weeks Later, Vera Manor Garden

Three more weeks until Morgana's reevaluation of bedrest. Macy's belly protruded as she struggled to find a comfortable seated position for herself on the Wilkins wrought-iron patio chair, dabbing her forehead as beads of perspiration issued forth from the effort. Harry had padded said chair with a myriad of cushions, but Macy could feel the weight of four miniature legs, four entwined arms, and two giant fetal heads bearing down upon herself, especially in the warmth of the summer morning.

If she had heeded all the telltale signs, Hestia's musings, her own dreamscape revelations, would she have still gone ahead and tried for a second pregnancy, as uncomfortable as she now found herself? Macy paused to mull this over. What if Maya had been an only child? No, decided Macy. She had enough of that growing up—the uneasy, disconcerting sense she lived under a microscope, constantly having to explain where she was going and why, for how long, every single day.

It hadn't been Dexter's fault—that much Macy knew for certain. It couldn't have been easy raising a daughter completely on his own—let alone a magical one—with nobody to lend a hand. Macy rubbed her belly, wondering what her late father would have thought of Harry. Would he be upset that she had married someone that wasn't his own nationality? Likely not, Macy answered for herself, given how he and her mom had different backgrounds themselves. And if she recalled correctly, they had met around a decade ago, even if they didn't know the significance at the time.

They had been cordial to each other, Macy had recalled, and Harry had been the ever-proper British gentleman, with his suit vest, tie, and collared shirt, which was likely a welcome contrast to the men she met at bars back then—loud, brash, and (more often than not) incredibly drunk. Macy sighed to herself, turning to her laptop perched on the miniature rounded porch table on her right, part of the three-piece Wilkins Bistro Set that Harry had recently purchased for her online, so she could supervise their daughter and revise her journal submission in peace. After an initial interrogation, Macy mused, perhaps Dexter and Harry would have become buddies, watching football together on Sunday afternoons. She wished that her father could see how happy she was now, with Harry, their little daughter, their soon-to-be twins, their extended family, and the livelihood they had created for themselves.

9:10 am, Vera Manor Garden

Macy scrutinized the letter from Zoological Scripta, reading the list of suggested changes.

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Revisions:

1. Provide a deeper discussion on the historical significance of Hypnos

2. Edit language for clarity

3. Clarify conceptual framework

Write a response letter, then resubmit.

Best wishes & regards,

-----(name of reader)------

Zoological Scripta

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Next to each number, Macy added notes:

1. Research and write on Hypnos

2. Have Harry read manuscript after Maya's bedtime; avoid complicated words

3. Write one more page in the framework section

It didn't seem too bad, right? Macy tried telling herself as she perused scholarly articles on her internet search engine, alternately bookmarking several and skimming through the various remaining ones.

10:35 am, Vera Manor Garden

Nearly an hour and a half later, Macy looked up from her laptop. She had made considerable progress with respect to the Hypnos research and writing exercise; three primary sources had cobbled themselves into somewhat legible academic text, and she decided a brief break was in order, as she made to turn off her laptop.

Where were Abigael and Maya? She wondered for one long second then relaxed, seeing them emerge from across the bend of tall, overgrown flower bushes. At first, Macy had wanted to chop the lot down, but Harry persuaded her to leave them be, saying that perhaps this was part of the riding and magical defense training that would benefit their daughter. It dawned on Macy that this was the first time she had ever left Maya unsupervised with Abigael.

Contrary to what she believed would happen during a hailstorm some weeks ago, Macy had been pleasantly surprised by Abigael's teaching abilities. So far, Maya had learned to balance, mount and dismount her pony, groom the pony's mane and coat (short brush strokes, front to back), feed her pony healthy treats (pre-peeled baby carrots), and do introductory steering to lead the pony around the curve of Vera Manor Garden, without breaking out into three-nager tears even once. Truth be told, it seemed as though Abigael was something of a "child-whisperer."

The next lesson after this, if Macy remembered correctly, would involve teaching Maya to do a trotting figure 8 with her pony. This necessitated cutting a path straight through Mel's prized azalea bush. Luckily, Mel gave permission, though it involved Abigael shamelessly bribing her with an extra movie night or two, coupled with an expensive potted set of rare Cymbidium faberi black-and-pink orchids that awaited her back at their apartment.

11 am, Vera Manor Garden

The magical defense lesson came after the riding activities, which was perfect for Maya, as she would be too exhausted to have her mind focused on anything else but the task at hand. Abigael worked with construction paper and other simple craft items. In the first week, Maya had successfully drawn a green dinosaur and made it move on its piece of paper; said paper was now attached to the Vera Manor fridge with a magnet, and it alternated between roaring noiselessly and sleeping, its tail curled around itself like a little housecat.

During the second week, inspired by her girlfriend's thermodynamic abilities, Abigael taught Maya how to create snow, which fell onto the summer lawn and melted instantaneously until Maya tested her own skillset, lowering the soil temperature so that two full inches of snow settled atop. Harry was so impressed that he'd gone out and returned with snow cones for everyone in the house, Abigael included.

A greeting card with flowers enchanted to open and close, had been the highlight of the third week. Maya's card to Macy included five flowers attached to its front—one for each immediate (and in two cases, future) member of the family. Macy remembered receiving the gift from a starry-eyed Maya. "What is it?" she recalled asking Abigael, who was across the lawn, cleaning up her art supplies.

"A card. Open it," Abigael offhandedly replied, so Macy did and teared up immediately after. Maya had written the words "I love you" all over its insides in different colors and font and had enchanted the writing to stay still for a few seconds, then move every which way within the page.

"Thank you—it's beautiful," Macy recalled whispering to Abigael, who broke into a smile at receiving the compliment. Her first, from Macy no less.

Initially, Macy had no idea how Abigael would train Maya—would hard-core weaponry be employed, with a side of heavy-handed nun chucks? How was it possible to train a toddler in the art of war, and fast? The horrors of prior attacks and vanquishings that Macy encountered left her riddled with nightmares, concerned for her own daughter's future and overall physical and emotional well-being. But Macy knew now that she needn't have worried so much. In her own way, Maya had learned the foundational knowledge of how to freeze objects, channel telekinesis, and apply empath skills.

As Maya ran around the lawn with her familiar pitter-patter, laughing gleefully aloud, Macy grinned, thinking to herself that perhaps, in the middle of the chaotic, tumultuous world in which they lived, there was indeed hope for the future.