1 December 1611
December is my least favorite month of the year. Except maybe March (it's rainy and cold and unpleasant). I like the December weather, but I prefer it when it's not so tainted. I can't enjoy the glistening snow and the frosted trees and the painted sunsets because I hate December so much.
Mother forgot about the candles last Sunday and now she's blaming me. I didn't know that we were supposed to light one of the candles last Sunday. How was I supposed to know that when she acts like looking at the calendar is a sin?
Dolora's set out her four candles and I know it's odd, but I like hers better than Mother's. Dolora also has five, so there's that. But that's not important. Mother says the colors are frivolous and she gets the wax-colored ones. Mother thinks everything is frivolous.
Anyways, I can tell Sigmun and Simonn are getting excited (though Simonn pretends he only keeps track of the days for his siblings) and I like seeing them happy, though it leaves me somewhere in the dust. Or the snow, at any rate.
We studied some physics today and it still confuses me. F equals m times a? I don't understand it. What's the difference between mass and weight anyways? And negative acceleration? Physics is not my strong point.
2 December 1611
We studied more Russian today and as far as I can tell, it's easier than some others but harder than Italian. Then again, most everything's harder than Italian. I don't really mind, though. I like languages.
Simonn tried to get us to study more physics, but since we studied that yesterday, I was able to persuade him that Russian would be better. I mean, I rather like pure math (algebra and geometry and the like), but that sort of applied math is confusing. I can solve an equation faster than Sigmun (though not Simonn), as long as it's not trying to match quantities to letters to something else.
Mother told me that she wanted to meet the seamstress I'm working for. Unless I can come up with a very, very clever way around that, I am in a lot of trouble. If she finds out I'm lying, I'll probably get at least a slap and she might not let me leave the house for who knows how long.
Maybe I'll admit I'm just a little scared.
3 December 1611
Oh my goodness, I almost forgot! Mariek's mother is a seamstress since her father died. Mariek's definitely clever enough to persuade her mother to pretend for the sake of a friend. I'll find Mariek tomorrow and tell my mother the seamstress was sick again today. I hope she believes me. Mother doesn't believe me often.
It's Saturday, so I better remind Mother about the candles tomorrow or she'll get mad again. Mother hates me enough without me giving her more reasons.
We studied another chapter of that novel today and it was fun because the three of us picked apart every line of dialogue and description just for the fun of it. I wonder sometimes about school, because I think analyzing a book that way would be no fun if you'd get in trouble for doing it wrong. How can there be a wrong way to pick apart a book? A book or a poem or even a line of music can mean something different for everyone, and saying one interpretation is more "right" than another just doesn't seem right to me. I've always loved reading and learning and I think if someone was making me learn, it just wouldn't be as engaging and honestly…I'd probably know a lot less.
4 December 1611
It's really beautiful when Sigmun's eyes catch the light just right and they turn that vibrant shade of red for just a second. He's stunning. And it hurts my heart to think he'll never even look at me twice. No one would, really. I mean, he's clever and he's brave and he's funny and he's so gorgeous and…he's such a good person and I can think of no reason he'd settle for me. I probably won't get married at all, simply because I doubt I'll ever find anyone willing to marry me. I don't know why my friends always tell me not to think that way; it's just a statement of fact.
I reminded Mother about the candles and she glared at me and lit the first two. Hope and peace. If only I had some of that in my house and in my heart.
5 December 1611
Simonn kept pinching Sigmun today and I have no idea what that was about. Sigmun actually looked vaguely nauseous and it reminded me of how I feel when I think about telling him. I swear Simonn's got some sort of secret agenda that he's not telling us. When he wasn't bugging Sigmun, he was shooting me these raised-eyebrow looks that said, "Well? What are you waiting for?" After a few times just rolling my eyes, I gave Simonn my best death glare. He rolled his eyes and stopped. What does Simonn know? I don't know if it's just me, but I feel like boys in general have become a lot more confusing since around when I turned sixteen.
I saw Mariek today (she was busy yesterday) and she said she'd talk to her mother and I could bring my mother over in the afternoon. I sincerely hope Mother believes the whole thing because I'd rather be able to leave the house and not get any bruises (my mother can slap very hard). My lie gets more complex every minute.
6 December 1611
I am the luckiest girl in the world. Mariek's mother agreed to pretend to be the seamstress I work for and Mother believed her! I'm safe, at least for now. I just really don't want to give up my learning and my time with my best friends. Mother told me women aren't supposed to read and I just can't bring myself to believe her because since learning to read, my life has grown in include whole other worlds and I don't see how that's bad.
I think that's what really gets me about Joan and Mary and Elizabeth and the girls like them. They could be so smart if only they tried.
7 December 1611
I had another one of the dreams with the two girls I don't really recognize, but I should. I have the very good dreams almost every night, to the point where it's not really worth mentioning. Anyways, I had the presence of mind to look around and I was in a brightly-lit place with no ceiling and no walls, as far as I could tell. The older girl seemed to be holding her child (I certainly think it's her child) a little less tense than she has before, but the younger girl still looked guarded. They're not alike enough to be older and younger versions of each other, and they couldn't be me because the younger girl is my age and she knows the older girl; I don't. The older girl has much paler skin and greener eyes and darker hair than me and she's also taller than I'll ever be. Not to mention both of them are prettier than I ever was or will be. I can see sadness in both their eyes and I wonder what has happened to them, because they seem like nice people. Especially the older girl; she keeps trying to talk to me, like there's something she must tell me. I want to ask her who she is, how she knows me, and why she keeps trying to talk to me. I appreciate it, but I'm a little confused. Why? Who? I have more questions than answers, of course. I'm curious about a lot of things and right now, this is topping the list.
9 December 1611
I wish I had a sister. I wish I had an older sister who knew something about boys. I wish I had a younger sister who smiled a lot because she didn't know how awful people can be. Sometimes I wish I had an older brother who'd tease me but he'd be nice about it, or a younger brother who'd always want to play because he'd be full of energy. I don't care what Simonn says about how annoying his siblings are; I can tell he cares about them and I wish I had something like that. His brothers are ten, eight, and seven, and his sister is five. I don't know if I'd like having a sibling who's five, or having a lot of siblings, but I'd like to think the house would feel less lonely with someone else in it.
The reason I particularly wish for a sibling right now is that Simonn's mother is going to have her baby in about three months and Simonn's been more nervous than usual and I know it's because of the brother and two sisters who didn't live. A lot of little ones don't make it past five or six and we all know it.
We studied French history today and it was quite interesting. I'd like to go to France someday; it sounds beautiful. But I know I'll never be able to afford travel; only nobility can really travel. Oh, the irony.
10 December 1611
Tomorrow is Sunday again and I'm sure the candle is for joy. It's the third one, right? Hope, peace, joy, love. That's how I remember them. Everyone celebrates Advent around here and I don't even know what it means. Someone once told me the name means "waiting", but I don't know if that was a dream or real. Well, I suppose I am waiting. I'm waiting for the whole thing to pass so I can forget how I don't have a family for another year.
11 December 1611
We studied Prussian history again today and I didn't fall asleep because I didn't dream at all last night. I don't really know what to make of that. I nearly always dream, and I usually remember my dreams. I wonder what that was about.
Simonn was pretty upset about something and I asked him and he said he had a dream that his new sibling was a girl and she died when she was three from consumption. I told him it was just a nightmare (I know a thing or two about nightmares) and he said it wasn't.
"Simonn, it was just a bad dream."
"No, you don't understand! They're never wrong! Never!"
"What do you mean?" Sigmun asked.
"Every time my mother's going to have a baby, I have a dream about them living or dying and they're never wrong!"
"Wait, what?" I asked.
"I…I didn't mean to say that," Simonn said. "I mean…shoot." He looked like he wanted to evaporate on the spot. "I just…I have dreams and they…they always come true."
"About other stuff, too?" I asked.
"Only life-and-death stuff…and not always, I mean, about once a year or so. Maybe twice. I can't read the future or something."
"Wow," Sigmun said. "Doesn't it drive you mad?"
"Of course! I dream about my brothers and sisters dying. It drives me absolutely crazy!" Simonn sounded rather crazy. He looked like he was about ready to pull out all his honey-blond hair.
"Calm down, Simonn," I said. "It's okay."
"It's not okay! I'm going to have another little sister and she's going to die and I can't just tell my parents, can I? I can't just walk up to them and say, 'Hey, you know that kid you're going to have in three months? She'll live to be three, then die of consumption. Bye!' I have to watch the whole thing happen! It's not okay!"
"Simonn," Sigmun said. "Maybe it was just a dream. And even if it's not…you've got three years to be happy about a new sister. Three years. That's plenty of time to change things."
"No it's not! Trying to change it never works! I'm just going to watch them love and lose and I know and I can't do anything!"
"Simonn…why didn't you ever tell us? We could've done something. We could've helped, maybe," I said.
"It's just something else that makes me a freak of nature, along with the two different eyes. You know my parents almost killed me when I was a baby? I don't need to give them another reason!"
"Simonn, it's alright. It's alright. Deep breaths. Come on, in and out. In…and out. In…and out," Sigmun said soothingly. I know Sigmun's seem people treated for being hysterical like this. "Calm down. In and out, breathe easy. There you go. Sit down and I'll get a glass of water."
Sigmun made Simonn sit in a chair and I stayed there because Simonn's never really been that honest in that way ever before. He always tries to hide, even from us. I think it's because he doesn't want anyone to know how much it hurts watching little siblings die.
Sigmun came back with a glass of water and Simonn drank it all in one gulp. "Right. Okay." He was breathing hard, almost panting, and clenching his fists tight as iron. "I'm fine. I'm fine."
"How about we read that physics book today?" Sigmun suggested.
"Yeah," Simonn said. "Sure." He breathed in and out one more time and he seemed to sort of collect himself. "I'll start."
I feel so sorry for him. I mean, my mother doesn't love me, but at least I don't think she wants me dead. And he's almost like an adult, even though he's our age. I wish I could do something to help Simonn, because it's obvious how much this gets to him and I just wish there was something I could do.
12 December 1611
More Russian today, and I've decided that this ranks between German and Italian on how hard it is to learn. Simonn was still distressed, so we read slowly and Dolora made tea. Dolora always makes tea and I know it sounds weird, but I think it helps. Simonn pretended to roll his eyes, but I know he was faking it. I feel so bad for his poor little sister, the one who hasn't been born yet. The little one won't know nearly enough life. And the others in his family will all have to cope with the loss. As if they haven't lost enough children! Actually, they were quite lucky. Simonn was the first, then Annabelle, then Christopher, and then Margaret. Those three didn't make it. I think Annabelle would be fourteen, Christopher thirteen, and Margaret would be eleven. His living siblings are…hm. Richard is ten, Thomas is eight, Robert seven, and Isabelle is five. And now they'll lose another one…
I can't help but believe Simonn about his dreams of the future. I don't know why he would lie and I don't think anyone could've faked that sort of hysteria. Anyways, he'd never lie about something like that to us. There are people no one lies to and best friends are some of them. It's just really horrible to think that he knows and can't tell.
I think the only thing that even comes close is finding out that you were the one not being told.
14 December 1611
I persuaded Sigmun to help me and we made cooked apples with cinnamon and sugar and a little bit of puff pastry. Sigmun was reluctant to help and I think it's because of that cake back in September. Well, it turned out better this time (also, Dolora was home when we were), and nobody set anything on fire. Sigmun looked incredibly relieved when the apples were done and I have a suspicion he was worried about embarrassing himself. It's a bit silly; I was there when he and Simonn lit the dish towels on fire and when we were about ten and he thought you were supposed to throw potatoes to see if they're done so he threw a whole bunch of sautéed potatoes on the ceiling and they (predictably) landed on his head (that is a funny memory). I can't think of anything Sigmun could do that would make me see him any different. Except perhaps something awful like killing someone or the like.
Simonn's face had this genuine smile for just a moment when he saw the apples (he'd been absorbed in reading). I think he appreciated it. Having a curse like that must be awful.
15 December 1611
I hate Christmas. I know that's a fairly stereotypical thing for a girl with a miserable family situation to say, but it's true. I hate it. My friends all have families. Simonn's siblings love him, and he loves them. Sigmun and Dolora have each other. Mariek's mother and father love her, as do Neolla's and Hannah's and my other friends. Candas and Orvill and Grantt live in the city, and they have families. I've got no one.
And I've got to remind Mother to light the love candle on Sunday. If she loved me, that candle would make a lot more sense. To me, love isn't my mother. It's Dolora rescuing Sigmun and keeping him. It's Sigmun pulling me away from the edge of the ice so I'd be safe. It's the three of us baking that stupid cake and Dolora eating it anyways. It's Sigmun and I cooking those apples to cheer up Simonn. It's Dolora hugging Simonn and I when we come over after a big storm. It's Neolla's father agreeing to lie for her so she can go to school. It's every single day I come over and Sigmun and Dolora's house feels so warm and safe and full.
That's love. Not my mother always screaming at me or my father never coming home or Simonn's parents forgetting him or Sigmun's birth mother leading him behind in that alley. That's not love, and I know it.
16 December 1611
My chest ached today and I have no idea why. Why does this happen? The worst is when my chest itches because it's awful and I can't scratch it. I hate having a woman's shape because my chest always hurts or itches. And the weirdest thing happens: halfway between my cycles, I get this funny pain down low, by my hip, for all of half an hour. It makes me want to curl up and die, and of course my other thought is that I'm sick and I better talk to Dolora. It's happened every time, so I suppose it ought to happen? I don't know. Maybe I should ask Dolora; I don't know anything about this sort of thing because Mother just won't tell me. Although I'm willing to bet some of the books on the top shelves would tell me.
I wish people would be more transparent about things like this. I wouldn't know if I was sick because I don't know what healthy is supposed to feel like. I wouldn't know the difference between how I feel and how healthy feels. And though I'm sick of being told how I'm supposed to act and feel, I want to know how healthy feels!
I'll just ask Dolora tomorrow. I'm afraid I'm sick.
Oh, and we read about more history today. Sigmun was enthusiastic as he picked apart each action and it was so endearing, watching him get so excited. He sees history the way I see language: all the complexities and consequences laid out like a map to follow. It's how Simonn sees science, how Dolora sees medicine, how Neolla sees law, how Mariek sees the schemes she plans. I think everyone's got something they see that way, it's just a matter of finding out what.
17 December 1611
Simonn left early and I guess Dolora could tell I wanted to talk to her, because she sent Sigmun to get ice from the river and told me that I could help by getting her herbs. "What is it, Dianna dear?"
"I…I'm just worried," I confessed.
"What's wrong, Dianna?" I wish I wasn't so afraid of talking about things. I know Dolora will listen.
I blurted everything else in one breath. "I get this funny pain by my hip halfway between my cycles and I'm afraid I'm sick and I'm gonna die."
"Calm down, Dianna dear. You're fine. That happens to some women. It just means that's the time of month it's best to try for a baby, okay? You shouldn't be worrying."
"Are you sure?"
"Of course I'm sure." There's an almost practiced voice she has when she's comforting someone, but it's still soothing. I'm just really glad I'm not sick, because I was sure that I was really sick. I don't know why Mother won't just talk to me about growing up; everyone grows up at some point. Sometimes I think she's keeping me in the dark just because she knows it'll make me miserable. Maybe I've just got a little pessimism mixed in with the optimism.
18 December 1611
Geometry today. I prefer algebra to geometry, but geometry's not so bad. My least favorite is trigonometry. Why on Earth do the sides of a right triangle always work that way? I just don't understand it. Simonn said that it's to do with similarities and that if all three angles are the same it proves similarity and…oh, I don't remember. I don't care, either.
Mother's still going on about how all her soap disappeared and thieves must've broken into the house and stolen all the soap. She is going to kill me if she ever finds out. I pray she never does.
19 December 1611
I got my bleeding today and I hate it, I absolutely hate it. I don't see the point, I just get annoyed and sore and irritable and rather sick. It's irregular, too, and I don't like it because I never know! It's just miserable.
We studied Russian history today and I do like picking history apart with my friends. I can't imagine not learning this way. Though I'm sure school will be good for Neolla, and it was clearly good for Dolora, I just don't think it would work for me. I need to be outside, moving, feeling. I love the dew on my feet, the crunching leaves in autumn, the scarlet sunsets, the cool river on my skin, the rough bark under the palms of my hands, the smooth grass beneath my feet. I love sunshine through green leaves, bright stars at night, ripe berries bursting with juice, lightning and thunder and pounding rain tumbling down to Earth, colored rainbows glittering in the light. I love outside and I can't imagine learning from books without also learning outside.
20 December 1611
Today Dolora was gone all day, which is only noteworthy because Sigmun enlisted Simonn's and my help to make Dolora a gift. He's making a wreath out of pines, winter herbs and berries, and preserved things. We found pine branches today in the woods. The snow crunched under my boots and snowflakes landed and melted all over us. Flakes landed in Sigmun's hair and eyelashes and it just made him so lovely to look at, because he looked like winter and a sunset…and I love him.
Simonn tripped on a rock and landed face-down in a snowdrift and we had to help him up. And find his shoes. I find it funny that Simonn's shoes don't match anymore.
Also, I stayed for dinner and Simonn did too. Dolora made mashed potatoes and stew and some boiled carrots. Dolora makes such nice meals when Simonn and I stay for dinner. It makes me feet so guilty, because I know they don't have much, but Dolora won't let me pay her back—believe me, I've tried. I wish she'd let me pay. I just don't want to take from them when they have so little to give.
21 December 1611
Simonn probably won't come to Dolora and Sigmun's again until after Epiphany. His other family comes to town for the time and he's got four little siblings to wrangle. Whenever Simonn's with his siblings on festival days in the city, I see him laughing and I see them acting like he's their parent. That's why I want siblings; I want something like that.
Anyways, despite a feeling of impending doom all day (I have no idea what that was about), not much happened.
Dolora says her friend might be coming for Christmas next year (she has friends in the city she writes to), I certainly hope so! I'd love to meet someone from the city. And I'd bet Dolora's friends are interesting and clever, too.
Oh, and we were reading today and Sigmun put his arm around me and I felt all shivery inside, but he pulled his arm back almost right away. I wonder what that's all about.
22 December 1611
Sigmun and I searched the woods for winter flowers and berries and things for Dolora's gift. He talked about how lovely winter is and how come nothing could be easy. I asked what he meant and he just said that changing things was so hard, that so many people get pushed down and it's so hard to change. I agree, but he always talks this way and it always worries me. I care, and I want things to change, but I also want him and all of us to be safe.
23 December 1611
Mother cooked the turkey today and I know it'll be cold and dry by Christmas, but she does it this way every year. Maybe she knows how drunk she'll be Christmas day. I sure do.
Sigmun and I practiced Russian today and I have the alphabet down cold. Now it's just a matter of stitching sentences together and verb conjugations and pronunciation. I love languages and I think this'll be fun.
24 December 1611
Sigmun and I practiced calligraphy today and I can tell he's excited. He's probably happy because it's Christmas tomorrow and I was happy while I was there because seeing him happy makes me happy, even when I'm sad like this.
I'm dreading Christmas. It's supposed to be happy, but it's the worst day of the year. I don't even know if I'll bother getting up. There's nothing that'll make it better.
25 December 1611
I made Dolora's Yorkshire pudding today. And I found some turkey Mother cooked exactly two days ago and I made up two plates and I brought one into Mother's room and she sort of slurred something at me and threw a pillow at my head (which I dodged). I also lit the four Advent candles and I ate Christmas dinner by myself like always. Mother's always drunk on Christmas. She wants Father to come home and he never does, so she drinks until she stumbles to bed (around noon) and I eat dinner by myself.
Simonn has Christmas with his brothers and sister and mother and father and they have a real dinner with presents and everything. Sigmun and Dolora have their little Christmas together and they give each other gifts. I've got my drunk mother and my missing father and my lonely Christmas dinners with cold turkey and no one to give a gift to.
26 December 1611
I don't usually go over to Sigmun's the day after Christmas, but he showed up at my house with that cloak he always wears in winter and knocked on the door and asked if I wanted to come over (I wonder if he suspects I dread this season). I wanted to (believe me, I did), but Mother was sick from drinking. So I told Sigmun that I couldn't and he asked why and I said it was Mother and he asked me what about my mother and I…I started crying because Mother's always drunk and I'm always alone on Christmas and it's just cold turkey and drunk shouting and four candles and me.
Sigmun kind of hugged me awkwardly and he helped me inside to the couch and I just cried onto his shoulder for the longest time and he looked really confused but he wrapped his cloak around me and let me cry until I could talk again.
"It's Mother."
"What?"
"…Every year on Christmas, Mother cooks turkey on the twenty-third and waits for Father to come home for Christmas Eve. And he never does…he never does. So Mother gets drunk and locks herself in her room and screams at me when I bring her a plate and I light the four candles and eat dinner at the table and…all of you have families and presents and proper meals on Christmas and I just want a normal Christmas like everyone else!"
"Why didn't you just say so? Maybe we could've done something."
"Because Mother gets drunk. I can't just go talking about it."
"Well…you could come over for Christmas next year."
"What about Mother?"
"Would she notice if you're gone?"
"She usually tells me that she'll kill me if I try to steal her things. She thinks I'm a robber…except once she thought I was Father. But I gave her the plate and she changed her mind and thought I was her great-aunt Annabelle."
"So…she wouldn't."
"Suppose not."
"Then why not leave her with a plate and come eat dinner with us? Mama would definitely let you come."
I started crying again and Sigmun started hugging me again and I'm so glad he was there because I guess I never really considered that I really ought to worry about taking care of myself, too, instead of spending all my time and energy on my mother. I mean, I suppose she still needs help, but she doesn't even remember Christmas day.
Maybe I could have a nice Christmas for once.
27 December 1611
I didn't go to Sigmun's yesterday because Mother started vomiting and he had to leave because Dolora expected him home. But I went today and I guess Sigmun told Dolora about Mother because she just wrapped me up in a really tight hug and she didn't let me go for a long, long time. And she handed me a little bracelet and said, "Happy Christmas, Dianna." I don't think she knows how much that meant. No one's ever said Happy Christmas to me before.
Simonn didn't come, because he never comes between the twenty-second and the twenty-eighth. But Dolora set out a really fancy lunch of Christmas leftovers (I think) and she insisted we all sit down to eat it. I almost started crying again because usually for lunch Simonn and I bring food from home and Sigmun finds something and we eat in the woods or in his room sort of casually, if at all. I sit down with Mother for dinner but all she does is nag me about getting married and "meeting with those boys" because they'll "corrupt my morals" and "lead me down the path of sin." How can this be bad? How can a meal with my best friend and his mother that actually makes me happy be bad? Not to mention Mother's always got this "lovely boy you really ought to meet" because he's "a good man" with "strong morals" who'll be able to "support you so you can care for him."
I don't think that's what marriage is supposed to be for, but then, what do I know? I just have this weird little intuition that tells me marriage is supposed to be not about a man with money and woman who belongs to him, but about two people who fall in love and want to spend their lives together.
Maybe I'm just a romantic.
28 December 1611
Such a long day today. I went to Sigmun's and stayed there with Simonn and Sigmun in the morning and afternoon and that was nice, but then I had to go home and run errands for three hours and then I had to work up the courage and ask Mother what to do about the monthly bleeding and I am just so tired. I don't want to do anything but lie in bed for a week. I just want to sleep and not wake up for days.
30 December 1611
Okay. Here is a list of my New Year's resolutions.
1. Learn to sew properly
2. Keep up this journal!
3. Write a story or a poem
4. Spend Christmas with Sigmun and Dolora
5. Tell Sigmun I really like him (somehow)
6. Figure out how to tell Mother I don't want to get married yet
31 December 1611
Revisions:
1. Learn to sew better
2. Keep up this journal and get a new one when it runs out of pages
3. Write a story or poem or both
4. Spend Christmas with Sigmun and Dolora
5. Tell Sigmun I love him
6. Tell Mother I don't want to get married yet