Fallout

Nov. 5th, 2016 11:02 am
rix_scaedu: (Default)
 I wrote this to [livejournal.com profile] aldersprig's prompt "Something off of that facilitator story?" and so it follows on from Hook, Line And Sinker. It came out at 747 words, but I was already writing it.


The advertisement was quite modest.  It read:
To Whom It May Concern,

It has come to the attention of the undersigned that a person or persons purporting to represent her have been offering the undersigned’s services as a Relationship Facilitator to the public in exchange for financial consideration.

The undersigned has never given any person permission to represent her in such a fashion and at no time has she provided services of the type described to any person or groups of persons.  Anyone who has provided financial consideration to any party in respect of services of the type described to purportedly be provided by the undersigned should recoup said consideration from the party to whom it was paid.

Enni Barlinga-Karble-Mentford

Bella had gone around to her sister’s place in high dudgeon.  She had put herself to a great deal of effort to help Enni get established in her career and now the silly creature was doing her best to undo all Bella’s work.  She rapped firmly on the door of a third floor apartment in rather plain building.  “Enni, it’s Bella.  I know you’re in there.  Now open up and let me in!”

The door opened a crack, the security chain clearly still in place, letting Bella see a stripe of her marginally younger sister through the opening.  "My solicitors sent you a letter asking you not to approach me,” said Enni firmly.  “What are you doing here?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” snapped back Bella.  “We don’t need lawyers to sort this out.  Just let me in so we can talk sensibly and in a civilized fashion.”

“But I don’t want to talk to you,” replied Enni, “so I’m not going to let you in.  Anything you want to say to me, you can say to my solicitors.  Good bye.”

She started closing the door but Bella shoved her soft leather tote bag into the gap.  “You’re making yourself even more ridiculous, Enni.”  She saw something through the gap over her bag and said, shocked and horrified, “You can’t be pregnant!  If you’re going to have it, then it has to go back to the father and his marriage.  I’ll take care of all the arrangements, but you need to let me in!”

“This conversation is over,” said Enni stonily.  “Anything else you want to say, you can say to my solicitor.  If you don’t take your bag out of my door and leave the building, I’m calling the police.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Bella was getting exasperated.

Before she could say anything else a male voice from behind her said, “Lady, I live downstairs and you woke me up so I came up here to ask you to keep it down,” Bella looked over her shoulder and found that the speaker was quite a good looking man with tanned olive skin, black hair and a neat, matching beard.  “Now though, I’ve just heard my neighbour tell you to leave after you made what could be considered a threat.  If you don’t go quietly right away, I’m going to call the police.”  He already held a mobile phone in his hand.

Truly exasperated now, Bella said, “That wasn’t a threat, that was an offer to help.  My sister just needs to be sensible and let me take care of things if she can’t or won’t take care of them herself!”

“Go away.  I do not need your help and I don’t want to talk to you.”  Enni was articulating carefully and precisely.

The man started pushing buttons on his phone.

“Fine!”  Bella through her hands up in the air and then pulled her bag out of the door.  “Don’t blame me when this all ends in tears!”

She stormed past the black haired man and down the stairs.  He peered over the edge of the bannisters and watched until Bella passed out of sight as she moved across the lobby to the doors.

As he straightened Enni asked, “Has she really gone?”

“Looks like it,” he replied.  “I’m Tarpin, by the way.”

Enni took the chain off her door and opened it.  “You’re the mail guy who lives downstairs, aren’t you?  I’m Enni.”  She offered him her hand to shake.  “Thank you for your help there.”

Tarpin shook her hand with just the right firmness and duration.  “Not a problem.  Look, I really do need to get some sleep now but would you like to go for coffee sometime?”

Enni smiled quietly.  “I think I’d like that, thank you.”
rix_scaedu: (Default)
I wrote this to [livejournal.com profile] aldersprig's third prompt.

The family of Fingate Farm were having a meeting, all of them seated around their communal table.  The oldest generation were Ester and Olrin, the only surviving members of their marriage.  Technically Ester was the farm’s sole owner these days but as they weren’t considering the sale of land, that wasn’t an issue.  The three sons of their marriage were there, along with their sister-wives: Halanda sitting thigh by thigh with Brond; Junery and Chloe with Steen between them on the bench seat; and Phil sitting at the far corner from all of them looking, when he looked at the others, as if he’d arranged everything.  Then there were the boys, all seven of them, ranging in age from eighteen to twenty-seven.  That was the problem.

“Really,” pointed out Ester, “there should be two marriages between you, but the farm simply doesn’t do well enough to support that.”

“I’m happy to be left out, if that helps,” volunteered Rafe the soldier.  “I support myself, after all.”

“And send money home,” noted Phil approvingly, “but I imagine you’ll probably want to retire here.  It would best if you have an acknowledged interest when that time comes.”

“True.”  Rafe conceded the point gracefully.

“To further limit your options,” pressed on Ester, “our neighbours not only have a shrewd idea of our position, but most of them don’t have unmarried daughters.  Those that do aren’t prepared to agree to an unbalanced agreement.”

“But?”  Unsloe, the second eldest spoke up while Bast, the toffee-haired youngest brother, looked confused beside him.  “I hear a ‘but’ in there.”

“Midridge Farm over to Joltholp, the ones that own that detached strip on the other side of our creek, have one daughter.  Her brothers are getting married and their brides want her out and settled before their wedding.”  Brond grinned.  “Seems they’re worried they’ll have a spinster sister-in-law in the house for all eternity if they don’t insist now.  They’ll gift her with that detached strip as part of her dower.”

“Seven of us and one of her?”  Rafe sounded concerned.  “We could hurt her if we’re not careful.”

“How?”  That was Bast, finding something else to be confused about.

“I’ll explain it to you later,” Rafe promised him.

“When do we meet her?”  Tim was the eldest.  “I can’t remember her being at anything we’ve been to – I don’t even know her name.”

“Borophy,” supplied Steen.  “Midridge does their socialising around Joltholp so it’s not surprising we haven’t seen her.  We’ve arranged for her to visit in the afternoon of the day after tomorrow, to meet you and see the place.”

“Boys,” added Olrin grimly, “she’s the only girl for you.”

Mead, the second youngest brother summed it up.  “I think we have some tidying to do.”


rix_scaedu: (Elf)
I wrote this to [livejournal.com profile] aldersprig's third prompt.

The family of Fingate Farm were having a meeting, all of them seated around their communal table.  The oldest generation were Ester and Olrin, the only surviving members of their marriage.  Technically Ester was the farm’s sole owner these days but as they weren’t considering the sale of land, that wasn’t an issue.  The three sons of their marriage were there, along with their sister-wives: Halanda sitting thigh by thigh with Brond; Junery and Chloe with Steen between them on the bench seat; and Phil sitting at the far corner from all of them looking, when he looked at the others, as if he’d arranged everything.  Then there were the boys, all seven of them, ranging in age from eighteen to twenty-seven.  That was the problem.

“Really,” pointed out Ester, “there should be two marriages between you, but the farm simply doesn’t do well enough to support that.”

“I’m happy to be left out, if that helps,” volunteered Rafe the soldier.  “I support myself, after all.”

“And send money home,” noted Phil approvingly, “but I imagine you’ll probably want to retire here.  It would best if you have an acknowledged interest when that time comes.”

“True.”  Rafe conceded the point gracefully.

“To further limit your options,” pressed on Ester, “our neighbours not only have a shrewd idea of our position, but most of them don’t have unmarried daughters.  Those that do aren’t prepared to agree to an unbalanced agreement.”

“But?”  Unsloe, the second eldest spoke up while Bast, the toffee-haired youngest brother, looked confused beside him.  “I hear a ‘but’ in there.”

“Midridge Farm over to Joltholp, the ones that own that detached strip on the other side of our creek, have one daughter.  Her brothers are getting married and their brides want her out and settled before their wedding.”  Brond grinned.  “Seems they’re worried they’ll have a spinster sister-in-law in the house for all eternity if they don’t insist now.  They’ll gift her with that detached strip as part of her dower.”

“Seven of us and one of her?”  Rafe sounded concerned.  “We could hurt her if we’re not careful.”

“How?”  That was Bast, finding something else to be confused about.

“I’ll explain it to you later,” Rafe promised him.

“When do we meet her?”  Tim was the eldest.  “I can’t remember her being at anything we’ve been to – I don’t even know her name.”

“Borophy,” supplied Steen.  “Midridge does their socialising around Joltholp so it’s not surprising we haven’t seen her.  We’ve arranged for her to visit in the afternoon of the day after tomorrow, to meet you and see the place.”

“Boys,” added Olrin grimly, “she’s the only girl for you.”

Mead, the second youngest brother summed it up.  “I think we have some tidying to do.”


rix_scaedu: (Default)
I wrote this to [livejournal.com profile] kelkyag's first sentence. It went overlength.

“No.”

“But Mauve, you said you knew her, that you went to school with her.”  Nec, whose parents had named him Thomas, looked confusedly at one girlfriend, with one an arm around the other, Yseult.

“I told all of you that I didn’t like her,” retorted Maeve.  The nickname was beginning to annoy her as much as the subject of discussion.  “I haven’t liked her since primary school.”

“Give her a chance,” pleaded Yseult, “she’s perfect for us.”

“Except,” added Maeve, “that I don’t like her.”

“Mauve,” Nec told her with a warning note in his voice, “you’re being silly.”

“I don’t think it’s silly to refuse to have as a member of my marriage or in my bed a woman I don’t want as a guest in my home.”  Maeve swallowed.  “We agreed that the choice of third wife would be unanimous.  I refuse to accept Rani so that means she’s vetoed.”

“Mauve, that’s not fair to the rest of us.”  He was beginning to look angry.

“It’s not fair to refuse to be a doormat for once?” Maeve put her hands on her hips.  “I’ve given up friends, foods and activities for all of you but anything that I want I’m supposed to just let you talk me out of.  Well not this time.  I will not invite Rani into our relationship.”

*********************

A month later Yseult had cooked dinner, a rich tomato and eggplant thing on rice.  Barney was running late and had sent a message for them not to wait but the rest of them were at the table.  Nec, Yseult and Coram all looked uptight about something to Maeve’s eye but when she tried playing footsie under the table with Coram and Yseult to lighten teh mood, neither of them would be drawn into the game.  Maeve began to feel apprehensive.

“We’ve been talking,” began Yseult, “and the four of us really want Rani to be our third wife.”

“I thought this had been settled,” Maeve put down her fork.  “I vetoed Rani.  I was going to bring up this girl, Tosca, who goes to a coffee shop near my work-“

Nec interjected, “Mauve, we want Rani.”

“Then we have a problem,” said Maeve slowly, “because Rani is a deal breaker for me.  If you’ve been continuing to see her after my veto, then your lack of respect for my feelings and opinion is another problem.”

“Maeve-,”

Coram started to speak but Barney bounced through the door and said enthusiastically, “Rani can move in Saturday!”

“Then I’ll be gone by Friday night.”  Maeve pushed back her chair and stood, tears forming in her eyes.  “If you’ll excuse me, I need to arrange somewhere to go.”

As she left the room Barney was saying, “But you guys were supposed to talk her round!”

She spent the night in her sewing room cum study, unwilling to share any of the communal beds.  There were three knocks on the door in the night.

The first was Nec, confident that sex would make it better and change her mind about leaving.  To him she said, “Didn’t you get the part where I’m breaking up with you and moving out?  I don’t do sex with you anymore.”  Then she shut the door firmly in his face.

The second was Yseult and Coram who’d both been crying.  “Please don’t go,” that was Yseult, “we love you.”

“Not enough to respect my opinions or my feelings,” Maeve’s own tears were still flowing.  “Please go away.”

Barney was the last.  “I’m sorry Maeve, I stuffed it up.”  He leaned against the door frame.

“It wasn’t just you,” she told him tiredly, “the others didn’t listen to me either.  Just go to bed, please Barney.”  She closed the door quietly in his face.

She moved out Thursday, leaving her spaces in the house empty, scrupulously taking only the things that she felt were truly hers.  She even left behind jewellery the others had thought of as hers.  She had left them.  As she said in her farewell note, at least there were no children to consider.

rix_scaedu: (Elf)
I wrote this to [livejournal.com profile] kelkyag's first sentence. It went overlength.

“No.”

“But Mauve, you said you knew her, that you went to school with her.”  Nec, whose parents had named him Thomas, looked confusedly at one girlfriend, with one an arm around the other, Yseult.

“I told all of you that I didn’t like her,” retorted Maeve.  The nickname was beginning to annoy her as much as the subject of discussion.  “I haven’t liked her since primary school.”

“Give her a chance,” pleaded Yseult, “she’s perfect for us.”

“Except,” added Maeve, “that I don’t like her.”

“Mauve,” Nec told her with a warning note in his voice, “you’re being silly.”

“I don’t think it’s silly to refuse to have as a member of my marriage or in my bed a woman I don’t want as a guest in my home.”  Maeve swallowed.  “We agreed that the choice of third wife would be unanimous.  I refuse to accept Rani so that means she’s vetoed.”

“Mauve, that’s not fair to the rest of us.”  He was beginning to look angry.

“It’s not fair to refuse to be a doormat for once?” Maeve put her hands on her hips.  “I’ve given up friends, foods and activities for all of you but anything that I want I’m supposed to just let you talk me out of.  Well not this time.  I will not invite Rani into our relationship.”

*********************

A month later Yseult had cooked dinner, a rich tomato and eggplant thing on rice.  Barney was running late and had sent a message for them not to wait but the rest of them were at the table.  Nec, Yseult and Coram all looked uptight about something to Maeve’s eye but when she tried playing footsie under the table with Coram and Yseult to lighten teh mood, neither of them would be drawn into the game.  Maeve began to feel apprehensive.

“We’ve been talking,” began Yseult, “and the four of us really want Rani to be our third wife.”

“I thought this had been settled,” Maeve put down her fork.  “I vetoed Rani.  I was going to bring up this girl, Tosca, who goes to a coffee shop near my work-“

Nec interjected, “Mauve, we want Rani.”

“Then we have a problem,” said Maeve slowly, “because Rani is a deal breaker for me.  If you’ve been continuing to see her after my veto, then your lack of respect for my feelings and opinion is another problem.”

“Maeve-,”

Coram started to speak but Barney bounced through the door and said enthusiastically, “Rani can move in Saturday!”

“Then I’ll be gone by Friday night.”  Maeve pushed back her chair and stood, tears forming in her eyes.  “If you’ll excuse me, I need to arrange somewhere to go.”

As she left the room Barney was saying, “But you guys were supposed to talk her round!”

She spent the night in her sewing room cum study, unwilling to share any of the communal beds.  There were three knocks on the door in the night.

The first was Nec, confident that sex would make it better and change her mind about leaving.  To him she said, “Didn’t you get the part where I’m breaking up with you and moving out?  I don’t do sex with you anymore.”  Then she shut the door firmly in his face.

The second was Yseult and Coram who’d both been crying.  “Please don’t go,” that was Yseult, “we love you.”

“Not enough to respect my opinions or my feelings,” Maeve’s own tears were still flowing.  “Please go away.”

Barney was the last.  “I’m sorry Maeve, I stuffed it up.”  He leaned against the door frame.

“It wasn’t just you,” she told him tiredly, “the others didn’t listen to me either.  Just go to bed, please Barney.”  She closed the door quietly in his face.

She moved out Thursday, leaving her spaces in the house empty, scrupulously taking only the things that she felt were truly hers.  She even left behind jewellery the others had thought of as hers.  She had left them.  As she said in her farewell note, at least there were no children to consider.

Washup

Mar. 5th, 2012 11:44 pm
rix_scaedu: (Default)

This follows on from Found.

“Teachers aren’t always right,” protested Clare to her spouses arrayed around the table, “And it’s not as if she had a plan, she was always a dreamer.”

“As I’ve always understood it,” Dale was seated directly to her left, “One of the advantages of the Leverage Examination is that unexpected opportunities can be offered after your results are determined, particularly in the general category.”

“Which all take time,” retorted Clare, “Time she didn’t have.”

“Why not,” Gwellen was puzzled, “Surely she had all the time in the world?”

“Not if she was going to be ready to be married when Ebony and Beth were,” Clare pointed out, “She’s two years younger than them – she never had time for day dreaming or she’d be holding people up.”

“It might have been better if Ebony had been made to wait to get married,” Shasta put in dryly, “My blood daughter needed to grow up a lot herself, as it turned out.”

“But Ebony’s eldest, she sets the pace,” Clare protested, “And I always wished Sorais was more like her.”

Her words hung in the air, redolent of poisonous echoes.

“I thought we’d heard the last from her,” said Harric quietly from his place on Clare’s right.

Meanwhile in their hotel rooms, a modest small family suite that was almost too large for their tiny family, Ewald was sliding into bed beside his wife.  As he did so Sorais rolled over and kissed the pectoral knot in the tattooed rope-chain that trailed from front flank to rear flank over his left shoulder. A small ritual of their married life.  On the face of it the tattoo was at odds with who he seemed to be, his parents and siblings thought it a strange remnant of his widowerhood but to her it was an intrinsic part of his personality.

“Your blood mother has got some very old fashioned ideas,” he commented as he put his arm around Sorais, “It’s almost as if someone has gotten into her head.”

She snuggled in.  “If anyone’s inside her head, it’s her blood mother.  I remember Grandmama as a tough old lady who offered us cake or sweets if we could run fast enough, or add fast enough or whatever it was she wanted us to do each time we came over.  She always set me against Ebony and Beth – I never got cake, they were always two years ahead of me.”  She cuddled in closer.  “I used to be afraid she’d hit me with her stick.  When I was old enough to get away with it, I stopped playing that game.  My brothers and sisters seemed to like her fine.”

He hugged her firmly in response.  “I think the rest of your parents liked me.”

“I think so too,” she agreed and they both relaxed a little.

“It’s odd to be having that conversation for the first time after we’ve been married for so long, isn’t it?” he commented wryly.

“It is, isn’t it?”  There was a trickle of laughter in the back of her voice as she agreed with him.

He skimmed a hand up her torso.  “So, do you want to…?”  Another marital ritual.

“Yes please.”

Back around the table Dale was asking, “So what hold did the old crow have over you?”

“She threatened to have Hanalda come home from the convent and replace me.  She’s eldest, it would have been her right and how could she not want to be married to you?”  Clare sounded small and alone.

“It never occurred to you that we might have had views on that?” asked Evan.  “Quite aside from Hanalda choosing to be a nun.”

“Mother was good at persuading people to do what she wanted,” pointed out Clare, “and Hanalda, well, she’s more likeable, more loveable than me.  She always was.”


Washup

Mar. 5th, 2012 11:44 pm
rix_scaedu: (purple me)

This follows on from Found.

“Teachers aren’t always right,” protested Clare to her spouses arrayed around the table, “And it’s not as if she had a plan, she was always a dreamer.”

“As I’ve always understood it,” Dale was seated directly to her left, “One of the advantages of the Leverage Examination is that unexpected opportunities can be offered after your results are determined, particularly in the general category.”

“Which all take time,” retorted Clare, “Time she didn’t have.”

“Why not,” Gwellen was puzzled, “Surely she had all the time in the world?”

“Not if she was going to be ready to be married when Ebony and Beth were,” Clare pointed out, “She’s two years younger than them – she never had time for day dreaming or she’d be holding people up.”

“It might have been better if Ebony had been made to wait to get married,” Shasta put in dryly, “My blood daughter needed to grow up a lot herself, as it turned out.”

“But Ebony’s eldest, she sets the pace,” Clare protested, “And I always wished Sorais was more like her.”

Her words hung in the air, redolent of poisonous echoes.

“I thought we’d heard the last from her,” said Harric quietly from his place on Clare’s right.

Meanwhile in their hotel rooms, a modest small family suite that was almost too large for their tiny family, Ewald was sliding into bed beside his wife.  As he did so Sorais rolled over and kissed the pectoral knot in the tattooed rope-chain that trailed from front flank to rear flank over his left shoulder. A small ritual of their married life.  On the face of it the tattoo was at odds with who he seemed to be, his parents and siblings thought it a strange remnant of his widowerhood but to her it was an intrinsic part of his personality.

“Your blood mother has got some very old fashioned ideas,” he commented as he put his arm around Sorais, “It’s almost as if someone has gotten into her head.”

She snuggled in.  “If anyone’s inside her head, it’s her blood mother.  I remember Grandmama as a tough old lady who offered us cake or sweets if we could run fast enough, or add fast enough or whatever it was she wanted us to do each time we came over.  She always set me against Ebony and Beth – I never got cake, they were always two years ahead of me.”  She cuddled in closer.  “I used to be afraid she’d hit me with her stick.  When I was old enough to get away with it, I stopped playing that game.  My brothers and sisters seemed to like her fine.”

He hugged her firmly in response.  “I think the rest of your parents liked me.”

“I think so too,” she agreed and they both relaxed a little.

“It’s odd to be having that conversation for the first time after we’ve been married for so long, isn’t it?” he commented wryly.

“It is, isn’t it?”  There was a trickle of laughter in the back of her voice as she agreed with him.

He skimmed a hand up her torso.  “So, do you want to…?”  Another marital ritual.

“Yes please.”

Back around the table Dale was asking, “So what hold did the old crow have over you?”

“She threatened to have Hanalda come home from the convent and replace me.  She’s eldest, it would have been her right and how could she not want to be married to you?”  Clare sounded small and alone.

“It never occurred to you that we might have had views on that?” asked Evan.  “Quite aside from Hanalda choosing to be a nun.”

“Mother was good at persuading people to do what she wanted,” pointed out Clare, “and Hanalda, well, she’s more likeable, more loveable than me.  She always was.”


Found

Sep. 4th, 2011 10:01 pm
rix_scaedu: (Default)
This follows on from Missing.

It was Gwellen and her son-in-law Bartlett who found the woman Gwellen’s niece Saffron had seen.  The possibility of finding out what had happened to her missing marriage daughter after almost a quarter of a decade had brought both her marriage group and the marriage group of two of their other daughters to the State Art Gallery.  Her own marriage group, particularly herself and her sisters, had unwisely pushed Soraise into a marriage with those two older marriage sisters and the marriage brothers they had chosen as their husbands.  It had been done with the best of intentions, to give all three of their girls the best possible start to the rest of their lives but the situation had deteriorated so badly for Soraise that after a year she had cut the legal ties between herself and the others then disappeared without a word.  Most worrying for her parents: she had taken none of the marriage’s resources with her, claimed none of them, and gone off with only her own horribly small salary to support her.  At least she had kept her job - that had been a small crumb of comfort even if her employer had been unable to tell her family anything else.

They’d found the woman Saffron had seen sitting on a viewing seat in the southern ground floor gallery, gazing into the distance not at an art work but at the children’s drawing class being run by one of the staff members.  At first Gwellen though that Saffron had been wrong, the hair colour was different and Soraise had never worn those colours, but when she walked around so she could see the woman’s profile she was certain.

She walked over to her and asked, “Excuse me, Soraise?”

Soraise’s head whipped around and she stood in one movement.  After a half moment when Gwellen thought she might run, she acknowledged, “Mother,” then looking beyond Gwellen she added in a ‘could this get worse’ tone, “Bartlett.”

In her peripheral vision Gwellen saw a man and a boy in his late teens start moving towards them.  “How have you been?  Are you all right?”  Gwellen didn’t know where to start.  “Why didn’t you come to us?  We’ve been so worried.”  She was almost crying.  Behind her Bartlett was hitting buttons on the keypad of his mobile phone.

“You would have sent me straight back to them after telling me again how happy we all were.”  Soraise was looking at Gwellen but her attention was flicking down the gallery as she looked for support or an escape?  “I just wanted to get away without having to fight...anything, so I let them have custody of everything, including all the family.  Frankly, when I left,” she looked Gwellen directly in the eye, “I thought you’d all been prepared to sacrifice me to set Ebony and Beth up as well as possible.”

Gwellen sat down heavily on the bench Sorais had vacated.  “You thought that about us?”

“I was very unhappy, even depressed when I left,” Soraise seemed to have regained her poise, “And every time I’d tried to talk to any of you about how I felt or what was happening, you’d just plough on about how happy we all were and how well things were going for the six of us.  I didn’t feel I had anyone I could go to for help who would listen to me.”

The man Gwellen had noticed further down the gallery a few moments earlier put his arm around Soraise’s shoulders.  “Who’s this, love?”  He was in his early fifties, a decade older than Soraise, tall, fit and bald.  He was dressed for a casual outing in a tailored, rough cloth jacket and soft, pleated trousers.

“One of my mothers,” Soraise looked up at him, “And one of one of my...former husbands.  Oh,” looking at the doorway behind Bartlett, “And more of my parents.”

“I suppose you thought you could avoid us and not face the music.”  That was Clare, bustling forward and angry voiced.  “It’s well past time for you to face up to yourself.”  Feet apart and arms folded, she shifted her focus, “And who’s this then?”

“Mother, this is my husband, Ewald.”  Then to the man beside her she added, “Ewald, this is my blood mother, Clare.”
“So,” Clare scanned the rest of the room, “Where are the rest of your spouses?”

“There’s just the two of us Mother.”  Soraise lifted her chin as she spoke, “This is a second match for both of us.”

“Did he,” Soraise remembered and hated that tone from her teenage years, “Abandon his vows and responsibilities as easily as you did?”
“My first family,” Ewald’s face and voice had hardened, “Died in a house fire while I was travelling for work.  I was a widower for just over five years before I met Soraise.  If you continue in that tone, I don’t care who you are – this conversation will be over.”

Shasta put a hand on her marriage sib and wife’s shoulder, “Clare, enough.  That isn’t the way through this.”  Then to Ewald, “I am sorry, both for your past loss and that Clare spoke so intemperately on the subject.  You don’t normally live in the capital, do you?  May we ask what has brought you here now?”

It was Soraise who answered.  “We came here for the week so our eldest, Sawyl”, she indicated the boy who’d been with Ewald when Gwellen had first seen him, “Could sit the Leverage Examinations.  We’ll be going home tomorrow.”

“I recall that you wanted to waste time on those when you were that age,” Clare observed.  “You didn’t seem to have any ambition beyond being accepted as a student in the general category – no idea at all of what you thought you might achieve with it.  I hope,” she turned to Sawyl, “That you don’t plan a time wasting exercise like that.”

Gwellen saw father and son exchange a glance and Ewald nod slightly.  Gwellen approved of what she saw when looked at Sawyl, he was dressed in this year’s uniform for his age and gender but unlike so many of his contemporaries he made it look neat and tidy.

“I don’t aim as high as the general category, ma’am.”  The boy had a pleasant speaking voice too, as well as good manners.  Gwellen for one would be happy to claim him as a grandson.  “I hope to obtain the marks for an academic admission to the Defence Force Academy to back up my aptitude application results.”

“When I did take the examinations as an adult candidate I actually did very well, Mother.”  Soraise’s voice had steel in it, something Gwellen had never heard from her before.  “And I completed my full degree path, despite doing it part time.”

“And that must be-.”  Clare’s comment was cut off by Shasta’s elbow in her ribs.

“Are you still with the same company?”  Shasta’s intervention was becoming slightly desperate, Gwellen thought.  She was going to have to stand and help if their husbands didn’t say something soon.

“Yes,” Soraise’s voice still had an edge to it but it was closer to what Gwellen remembered as her normal tone, “But I have an executive position in Internal Support thanks to the benefits of a good degree.”  Gwellen recognised the dig back at Clare and so did Clare.

“Clare, sweet heart,” that was Noan, the eldest of their husbands, “She went away and finished growing up in a place where she was safer to do that than she was here.  You can’t make her be what you want, you never could.”  He came forward and put an arm around her torso, almost mirroring Ewald’s earlier gesture.  “Now you need to stop trying to make her feel bad because she isn’t exactly the way you wanted.”  He looked across at Soraise, “We’ve missed you, you know and worried about you.  Could you and your family stay and talk with us a while?”

Found

Sep. 4th, 2011 10:01 pm
rix_scaedu: (Default)
This follows on from Missing.

It was Gwellen and her son-in-law Bartlett who found the woman Gwellen’s niece Saffron had seen.  The possibility of finding out what had happened to her missing marriage daughter after almost a quarter of a decade had brought both her marriage group and the marriage group of two of their other daughters to the State Art Gallery.  Her own marriage group, particularly herself and her sisters, had unwisely pushed Soraise into a marriage with those two older marriage sisters and the marriage brothers they had chosen as their husbands.  It had been done with the best of intentions, to give all three of their girls the best possible start to the rest of their lives but the situation had deteriorated so badly for Soraise that after a year she had cut the legal ties between herself and the others then disappeared without a word.  Most worrying for her parents: she had taken none of the marriage’s resources with her, claimed none of them, and gone off with only her own horribly small salary to support her.  At least she had kept her job - that had been a small crumb of comfort even if her employer had been unable to tell her family anything else.

They’d found the woman Saffron had seen sitting on a viewing seat in the southern ground floor gallery, gazing into the distance not at an art work but at the children’s drawing class being run by one of the staff members.  At first Gwellen though that Saffron had been wrong, the hair colour was different and Soraise had never worn those colours, but when she walked around so she could see the woman’s profile she was certain.

She walked over to her and asked, “Excuse me, Soraise?”

Soraise’s head whipped around and she stood in one movement.  After a half moment when Gwellen thought she might run, she acknowledged, “Mother,” then looking beyond Gwellen she added in a ‘could this get worse’ tone, “Bartlett.”

In her peripheral vision Gwellen saw a man and a boy in his late teens start moving towards them.  “How have you been?  Are you all right?”  Gwellen didn’t know where to start.  “Why didn’t you come to us?  We’ve been so worried.”  She was almost crying.  Behind her Bartlett was hitting buttons on the keypad of his mobile phone.

“You would have sent me straight back to them after telling me again how happy we all were.”  Soraise was looking at Gwellen but her attention was flicking down the gallery as she looked for support or an escape?  “I just wanted to get away without having to fight...anything, so I let them have custody of everything, including all the family.  Frankly, when I left,” she looked Gwellen directly in the eye, “I thought you’d all been prepared to sacrifice me to set Ebony and Beth up as well as possible.”

Gwellen sat down heavily on the bench Sorais had vacated.  “You thought that about us?”

“I was very unhappy, even depressed when I left,” Soraise seemed to have regained her poise, “And every time I’d tried to talk to any of you about how I felt or what was happening, you’d just plough on about how happy we all were and how well things were going for the six of us.  I didn’t feel I had anyone I could go to for help who would listen to me.”

The man Gwellen had noticed further down the gallery a few moments earlier put his arm around Soraise’s shoulders.  “Who’s this, love?”  He was in his early fifties, a decade older than Soraise, tall, fit and bald.  He was dressed for a casual outing in a tailored, rough cloth jacket and soft, pleated trousers.

“One of my mothers,” Soraise looked up at him, “And one of one of my...former husbands.  Oh,” looking at the doorway behind Bartlett, “And more of my parents.”

“I suppose you thought you could avoid us and not face the music.”  That was Clare, bustling forward and angry voiced.  “It’s well past time for you to face up to yourself.”  Feet apart and arms folded, she shifted her focus, “And who’s this then?”

“Mother, this is my husband, Ewald.”  Then to the man beside her she added, “Ewald, this is my blood mother, Clare.”
“So,” Clare scanned the rest of the room, “Where are the rest of your spouses?”

“There’s just the two of us Mother.”  Soraise lifted her chin as she spoke, “This is a second match for both of us.”

“Did he,” Soraise remembered and hated that tone from her teenage years, “Abandon his vows and responsibilities as easily as you did?”
“My first family,” Ewald’s face and voice had hardened, “Died in a house fire while I was travelling for work.  I was a widower for just over five years before I met Soraise.  If you continue in that tone, I don’t care who you are – this conversation will be over.”

Shasta put a hand on her marriage sib and wife’s shoulder, “Clare, enough.  That isn’t the way through this.”  Then to Ewald, “I am sorry, both for your past loss and that Clare spoke so intemperately on the subject.  You don’t normally live in the capital, do you?  May we ask what has brought you here now?”

It was Soraise who answered.  “We came here for the week so our eldest, Sawyl”, she indicated the boy who’d been with Ewald when Gwellen had first seen him, “Could sit the Leverage Examinations.  We’ll be going home tomorrow.”

“I recall that you wanted to waste time on those when you were that age,” Clare observed.  “You didn’t seem to have any ambition beyond being accepted as a student in the general category – no idea at all of what you thought you might achieve with it.  I hope,” she turned to Sawyl, “That you don’t plan a time wasting exercise like that.”

Gwellen saw father and son exchange a glance and Ewald nod slightly.  Gwellen approved of what she saw when looked at Sawyl, he was dressed in this year’s uniform for his age and gender but unlike so many of his contemporaries he made it look neat and tidy.

“I don’t aim as high as the general category, ma’am.”  The boy had a pleasant speaking voice too, as well as good manners.  Gwellen for one would be happy to claim him as a grandson.  “I hope to obtain the marks for an academic admission to the Defence Force Academy to back up my aptitude application results.”

“When I did take the examinations as an adult candidate I actually did very well, Mother.”  Soraise’s voice had steel in it, something Gwellen had never heard from her before.  “And I completed my full degree path, despite doing it part time.”

“And that must be-.”  Clare’s comment was cut off by Shasta’s elbow in her ribs.

“Are you still with the same company?”  Shasta’s intervention was becoming slightly desperate, Gwellen thought.  She was going to have to stand and help if their husbands didn’t say something soon.

“Yes,” Soraise’s voice still had an edge to it but it was closer to what Gwellen remembered as her normal tone, “But I have an executive position in Internal Support thanks to the benefits of a good degree.”  Gwellen recognised the dig back at Clare and so did Clare.

“Clare, sweet heart,” that was Noan, the eldest of their husbands, “She went away and finished growing up in a place where she was safer to do that than she was here.  You can’t make her be what you want, you never could.”  He came forward and put an arm around her torso, almost mirroring Ewald’s earlier gesture.  “Now you need to stop trying to make her feel bad because she isn’t exactly the way you wanted.”  He looked across at Soraise, “We’ve missed you, you know and worried about you.  Could you and your family stay and talk with us a while?”

Missing

Aug. 28th, 2011 03:40 am
rix_scaedu: (Default)
This carries on from Unwanted.


“We didn’t treat your aunt well,” Bartlett told his daughter Taren, “We were too caught up in ourselves to spare a thought for her.  That’s why we support your marriage plans and those of your sisters – we don’t want any of you to wind up in our position or hers.”

“But why is Grandma Clare so het up about it?”  Taren was genuinely puzzled, “You’d think that of all the grandmothers she’d have least interest in our marriages, after all, she has no blood investment in us.”

“Ah,” Bartlett sighed sadly, ”I think she feels that if she agrees to the plans you three have for your weddings, then she’ll be admitting she was wrong about us and your Aunt Soraise.  Grandma Clare doesn’t like to be wrong.”

“Whatever happened to Aunt Soraise?”  Taren looked around quickly, “I mean, I know she’s an uncomfortable subject but no-one ever talks about her.”

“We don’t know,” Bartlett admitted sadly.  “When we came home and found the annulment notice on the kitchen table we assumed she’d gone back to your grandparents’ house.    She didn’t take anything with her, we thought that meant she planned to come back.  But when we went round there, it was the first they’d heard of it.  Next we thought she might have gone to friends, we were still upset that she’d embarrassed us with an annulment at that stage, then we realised that none of us knew who her friends might be.”  He sighed, “One of the rules we’d imposed on her was that she couldn’t bring people into ‘our’ house so we hadn’t even met people she’d invited to our parties.  At least her work would tell us they’d given her a transfer but because she’d taken everyone off her next of kin list, they wouldn’t tell us where to.”

“So the grands really don’t know where she is?”  Taren was surprised, “I mean I can imagine Grandmother Shasta or Grandad Charlie keeping it quiet if they were sworn to secrecy and thought they were protecting someone, although he’s the wrong side of the family.  Or even Grandmother Gwellen.  She really just...disappeared?”

“Yes,” he reached out and ruffled her hair, “I remember your Grandmother Gwellen crying when she realised that your aunt had run away from them as well as us.  That’s about when Grandma Clare started saying she should have toughed it out and waited for things to get better.  She never says how long she thinks your aunt should have waited though and as one of the,” his voice caught, “Perpetrators, I don’t think it was going to get better.  A year was enough to tell her that.  It took your Grandmother Shasta less than half an hour in the house to work out how your aunt had been living – she was so angry she slapped Ebony.”  Taren goggled at the thought.

“So how did your parents react?”  Taren wanted to hear the whole story while someone was prepared to tell it.

“They were disappointed in us,” Bartlett admitted, “Your Grandad Charlie asked if we had some hormone deficiency.  ‘The three of you were married to her for a year, lived in the same house all that time and not one of you drove her round the block to find out how she handled?’”  His imitation was spot on.

Taren laughed.  “That would be Grandad Charlie too.  Crass and a car analogy.”

Beth, one of Taren’s mothers came slowly into the room with a strange expression on her face.  “Bartlett, I’ve just taken the oddest call from my cousin Saffron.”  She looked, in fact, slightly stunned.  “She’s working today.  Her boss is giving some news conference at the State Art Gallery.  She thinks she’s just seen Soraise in one of the ground floor galleries.”


Missing

Aug. 28th, 2011 03:40 am
rix_scaedu: (Default)
This carries on from Unwanted.


“We didn’t treat your aunt well,” Bartlett told his daughter Taren, “We were too caught up in ourselves to spare a thought for her.  That’s why we support your marriage plans and those of your sisters – we don’t want any of you to wind up in our position or hers.”

“But why is Grandma Clare so het up about it?”  Taren was genuinely puzzled, “You’d think that of all the grandmothers she’d have least interest in our marriages, after all, she has no blood investment in us.”

“Ah,” Bartlett sighed sadly, ”I think she feels that if she agrees to the plans you three have for your weddings, then she’ll be admitting she was wrong about us and your Aunt Soraise.  Grandma Clare doesn’t like to be wrong.”

“Whatever happened to Aunt Soraise?”  Taren looked around quickly, “I mean, I know she’s an uncomfortable subject but no-one ever talks about her.”

“We don’t know,” Bartlett admitted sadly.  “When we came home and found the annulment notice on the kitchen table we assumed she’d gone back to your grandparents’ house.    She didn’t take anything with her, we thought that meant she planned to come back.  But when we went round there, it was the first they’d heard of it.  Next we thought she might have gone to friends, we were still upset that she’d embarrassed us with an annulment at that stage, then we realised that none of us knew who her friends might be.”  He sighed, “One of the rules we’d imposed on her was that she couldn’t bring people into ‘our’ house so we hadn’t even met people she’d invited to our parties.  At least her work would tell us they’d given her a transfer but because she’d taken everyone off her next of kin list, they wouldn’t tell us where to.”

“So the grands really don’t know where she is?”  Taren was surprised, “I mean I can imagine Grandmother Shasta or Grandad Charlie keeping it quiet if they were sworn to secrecy and thought they were protecting someone, although he’s the wrong side of the family.  Or even Grandmother Gwellen.  She really just...disappeared?”

“Yes,” he reached out and ruffled her hair, “I remember your Grandmother Gwellen crying when she realised that your aunt had run away from them as well as us.  That’s about when Grandma Clare started saying she should have toughed it out and waited for things to get better.  She never says how long she thinks your aunt should have waited though and as one of the,” his voice caught, “Perpetrators, I don’t think it was going to get better.  A year was enough to tell her that.  It took your Grandmother Shasta less than half an hour in the house to work out how your aunt had been living – she was so angry she slapped Ebony.”  Taren goggled at the thought.

“So how did your parents react?”  Taren wanted to hear the whole story while someone was prepared to tell it.

“They were disappointed in us,” Bartlett admitted, “Your Grandad Charlie asked if we had some hormone deficiency.  ‘The three of you were married to her for a year, lived in the same house all that time and not one of you drove her round the block to find out how she handled?’”  His imitation was spot on.

Taren laughed.  “That would be Grandad Charlie too.  Crass and a car analogy.”

Beth, one of Taren’s mothers came slowly into the room with a strange expression on her face.  “Bartlett, I’ve just taken the oddest call from my cousin Saffron.”  She looked, in fact, slightly stunned.  “She’s working today.  Her boss is giving some news conference at the State Art Gallery.  She thinks she’s just seen Soraise in one of the ground floor galleries.”


Unwanted

Aug. 24th, 2011 11:34 pm
rix_scaedu: (Default)


The marriage wasn’t working.  Well, it wasn’t working for her - there were three locked bedroom doors that she wasn’t allowed to pass and behind them her spouses cavorted, communed, slept or did whatever else they did without her.

To be fair they hadn’t wanted to be married to her any more than she’d wanted to be married to them but they were all young and their mothers, hers in particular, had pushed their ideas of how a marriage should be put together on them.  All three from her family, marriage sibs but with no parents in common between them, had tried to resist – she had said she didn’t want to, Beth had pointed out that the boys didn’t know her and Ebony had been plain spoken enough to say, “We don’t want her.”  The maternal juggernaut had powered on over all objections and here she was, married a year and a day and still a virgin with no hope of being otherwise.

At least she’d started keeping a diary.

She’d take that with her to her legal appointment tomorrow.  Together with the medical checks the court would order, it should get her an annulment.  If she was prepared to give up all claims to her dowry, the funds and support her family had put into this new household on her behalf, she could just walk away.  Walk away and never come back.

Start somewhere new and may be, one day, have a proper marriage.
If you could show you’d tried and been patient, that was why she had the diary, then annulments were supposed to be quick.  A matter of weeks.  She could do that.


She smiled to herself and snuggled down into the sleeping nest she’d made in the only space they hadn’t kicked her out of.  Things were already beginning to look up, even if next month she wouldn’t be able to afford somewhere to live that had a utility room.



Unwanted

Aug. 24th, 2011 11:34 pm
rix_scaedu: (Default)


The marriage wasn’t working.  Well, it wasn’t working for her - there were three locked bedroom doors that she wasn’t allowed to pass and behind them her spouses cavorted, communed, slept or did whatever else they did without her.

To be fair they hadn’t wanted to be married to her any more than she’d wanted to be married to them but they were all young and their mothers, hers in particular, had pushed their ideas of how a marriage should be put together on them.  All three from her family, marriage sibs but with no parents in common between them, had tried to resist – she had said she didn’t want to, Beth had pointed out that the boys didn’t know her and Ebony had been plain spoken enough to say, “We don’t want her.”  The maternal juggernaut had powered on over all objections and here she was, married a year and a day and still a virgin with no hope of being otherwise.

At least she’d started keeping a diary.

She’d take that with her to her legal appointment tomorrow.  Together with the medical checks the court would order, it should get her an annulment.  If she was prepared to give up all claims to her dowry, the funds and support her family had put into this new household on her behalf, she could just walk away.  Walk away and never come back.

Start somewhere new and may be, one day, have a proper marriage.
If you could show you’d tried and been patient, that was why she had the diary, then annulments were supposed to be quick.  A matter of weeks.  She could do that.


She smiled to herself and snuggled down into the sleeping nest she’d made in the only space they hadn’t kicked her out of.  Things were already beginning to look up, even if next month she wouldn’t be able to afford somewhere to live that had a utility room.



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