A/N: The song is Goldfrapp's Radiate.
~oOo~
The maid was in the Zen room, one leg dangled over an arm. A cigarette of some sort wilted between stained fingers, its ashes falling to a waiting tray, the floor. Her thick rust tinted hair was as wool, an escaping fan at both sides of her pale face. She appeared lost, almost asleep, clad in a tight-fitting black cotton pantsuit, stirrups over low heels. One foot in the air shook with the music of the room, the music of her head, trying to stay awake.
She turned her half-lidded eyes to Columbia, silently watching her as she walked past, making her way to her room. Their room.
The air was thick, warm without air conditioning, and the woman of working status could hear herself breathing laboriously. She could feel over her stomach, her legs, where the servant, her brother, had just been. Torrid, the material was creased in those areas and pressed to her skin.
Columbia made her way down the hall, the paper in her hands worn thin. She discerned Magenta's steps as they followed her, but she didn't make any acknowledgement of their sound. She could see her in her head. She could feel her weight on the steps as she moved with the tinny music from the floors above.
Columbia's face was drawn, glittering with sweat and stars as she finally stepped into confinement. Setting the bag on a surface not as crowded as the others, she removed the circus peanuts and ripped open the bag, stuffing an orange candy into her mouth before crawling into bed, chewing as though a ballplayer.
She found Magenta standing beside her, hand extended, offering whatever she'd been smoking. Columbia accepted, taking a few a drags before returning it, recognizing it as cheap.
She saw the frizzy back of Magenta's head as she crept to the monitor, a shoulder swept downward. Her lips moved, lyrics in a whisper leaving. Breathless rasps.
Hahaha
You're Heaven
HaHaha
We radiate.
She moved with the music as she brought the monitor's screen to life. A black and white picture of reality. The scene that played out was of Frank in bed as he fanned himself with a torn magazine page. His legs were crossed, exposed in a house-dress. "Oh Lord," he moaned to himself.
Columbia watched him for a few seconds before deciding that the woman in the room was of more interest. She ate another peanut, shoved the bag to her side, and raised from the bed, soon lost in a half-hearted dance. Her moves mirrored those of the other.
Magenta had her hands, loose fingers brought high over her head, guiding her with shifts to the side. An impromptu dialogue. Columbia scooted backwards, diving away from Magenta, Magenta swooped toward the other girl's frame. A bird on wing, an inked vulture out of frame.
Not too long after their dance had begun to fade, the door to their room opened to reveal the doctor. He had changed into a ladies' 1940s one-piece swimsuit, white with a pattern of red and yellow hibiscus blooms. A large tropical flower made of velvet was pinned in the curls alongside his cheek. Teal shadows played about his eyes as a plastic diamond rested on each temple.
His hand could be heard rapping against the door frame, waking them from dreams. A sudden reprimanding of children. "Make yourselves presentable, we're going to the pool." He slipped back between the door and frame out to the hall. "Eddie?" A wicker basket could be heard creaking.
The 'pool' in question was not the one inside but a temporary addition made to the grounds, one created when a shallow hollow had become filled with water after a heavy rain. A few lawn chairs were set along its desolate shore. An umbrella shaded a table, an aluminum reflector. A large fallen tree was to its side next to it a cooler holding Nehi, 7-Up. A few nights before Eddie had made a fire and cooked over the flames hamburgers on a makeshift grill.
Magenta, out of breath, had thrown herself in a chair beside the monitor of the room. The sylph bolted to nearby pile of clothes, removing from the mess a dark article of clothing which she threw over her shoulder to Magenta. She held the captured maillot to the light, seeing the walls, the pictures, through its lace. Solid black covered only patches. The maid began to remove her shoes.
When Columbia finally uncovered her bathing suit from the mess, she quickly peeled off what she'd been wearing to tug over her sticky legs and waist a lime green strapless one-piece ending in a ruffled skirt. A stark contrast to her bright hair. The colors would wash away, they had already all but left her.
She walked to the chair holding Magenta, and pulled at the zipper going down her back, exposing the line of her spine. A finger traced the hint upwards.
~oOo~