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Felicity

April 28, 1901

Paris

Mama who bore me

Mama who gave me

No way to handle things.

Who made me so sad.

Mama Who Bore Me, Spring Awakening

The cool night air sticks to my face like a mitten as I make my way towards my mother's salon. I have not been in this part of the city in over a year and a half and it hurts to return. The city I once thought to be remarkably beautiful sits dully resembling the heart beating steadily in my chest. I had no idea that leaving Malmortre and the Moulin Rouge would be so difficult. As I approach the salon I cannot help but remember the promise I had made to myself the day I left. Never again will I set foot in this despicable place. I will never speak to my mother again. She is dead to me. Yet, here I am, entering the same doors I so scorned a year ago.

Nothing has changed within my mother's salon since the last time I was here. Even the customers seem to be the same shallow imbeciles that look down on me the same way Mother does. I pull down my hood from my cloak and scan the people searching for her face. At last I find her in the back with a group of women I recognize but do not care to remember. In five short strides I am in front of her, head high and chin up. Her icy blue-grey eyes meet mine and take me in. If the eyes truly are the portal to the soul, than my mother must have a very cold one. Unfortunately I share the same cold and hard heart.

"Felicity…uh…how do you do?" Is that all she can think of to say after a year of absence? Well fine then. "Mother. I am not here to catch up and pretend I actually care about what you have been up to. I am here to discuss Little Polly." At the mention of that name her smile falls and she looks down to the floor. Weakness. She is weak. "She has written me and asked for my help. You see, she asked you first and what did you do? You laughed it off and called her a liar. What do you have to say for yourself?"

She grabs me by my wrist and pulls me into the back where all the supplies are stored. I pull my arm out of her grasp and scowl at her rude behavior. "What kind of greeting is that to give to your mother? Really Felicity, I thought you would have learned better at Spence. And then the nerve it took to embarrass me in front of my friends! Who do you think you are?" My eyes freeze over as I gather my rage. "No Mother! Who the bloody hell do you think you are? When I was six years old I came to you for help and you turned me down. Now, history repeats itself and what do you do? You make the same bloody mistake you made with me. I brought Polly here to get away from him. You promised you would take care of her. You promised." At this the tears well up. I will not be weak. I will not cry. It takes me only one breath to push back the sadness and replace it with fury. In that same amount of time my mother found a way to blame this on me.

"Polly was a burden around here. You know that as well as I do. That's why you left her a year ago. And to do what? You said you were going to travel and find a suitable man. What a bunch of lies Felicity! We both know you ran off the Moulin Rouge to work as a whore. It turns out we are not much different. Now instead of being upset with me for sending her back to London for six months before attending Spence, you could examine your own behavior."

Every once of hate stored in me disappears. I know she is right. I should never have left her. Polly suffered more of my father's love because I abandoned her. "Goodbye Mother. This is the last you will ever see me. I mean it this time." As I turn to leave she reaches out for my hand. For a second I think maybe she will apologize or say she loves me. "You're my daughter. I did what I could for you. Look how you repay me. Do not come back again." And with that I leave her salon.

It is not until I am safely home that the tears spill over. All the pain I have stored up comes flooding out in a blur. Why did I leave her for the Moulin Rouge? What have I accomplished since being here? Does anyone truly love me? Why am I so damaged? I miss Pippa. Once she floods my mind there is no turning back. She is all I can think of. Her beautiful pale skin surrounded by those heavy black ringlets and the most beautiful eyes ever beheld. Those are the thoughts that spark another batch of tears. I weep until I have nothing left to cry. And with that I lie down and fall into a dreamless sleep.