"Why don't you let the kid heal that awful cough of yours?" Fiona asked with annoyance the third time Myrtle had to excuse herself. Myrtle's eyes widened and she shot a horrified glance at the door, behind which Cordelia and Misty were sleeping.
"Not so loud. Think if the children heard you?"
"How long do you expect to hide it anyway? Myrtle, you look awful."
She gave Fiona a tired look. "Why, that's kind of you to say so, sister." She downed her tea like a shot of vodka and shook her head before filling up the cup.
"I don't what is most weird about you, your hair or your tea habits. People would think you're British. But I mean it, Myrtle, why don't you let her?"
"Because then it would be gone", Myrtle just said.
Fiona rolled her eyes. "Well congratulations. It took you forty years, but you've finally managed to mystify me completely."
Myrtle chuckled, a hoarse throaty sound that made Fiona wince. She got up and gestured towards the kitchen. "If you insist on talking about this, let's go to the kitchen."
Fiona shook her head at her sister, but got up anyway and followed her.
"If you want. But I doubt those five steps will make any difference."
"You forgot your tea, darling. And you can insult my home as much as you want, but let me remind you that you agreed to stay here."
"I did no such thing. Cordelia plagued me to no end. That's the only reason I'm not in a five star hotel with a glass of whisky right now." What annoyed her most about it was that Cordelia would have been fine with a hotel room, but after the flight from New Orleans to New York, Misty was a trembling wreck of nerves and neither of them had the heart to expose her to yet another foreign place. The girl was twelve now, but she shook like a terrified toddler the whole way. It would have been amusing, if it wasn't so convincing. Still, there was no way Fiona would admit to having been dictated by a twelve year old.
"If you say so, dear", Myrtle said and Fiona had a sneaking suspicion her cover had crumbled already. Misty had probably told Myrtle her own horrific version of the flight first chance she got.
Myrtle sat down by the small kitchen table and took another mouthful of tea. She was halfway done, before Fiona even sat down.
"Now spit it out."
Myrtle sighed. "If it was suddenly gone, everyone would start asking questions. My doctors above all. They monitor the progress frequently. And I haven't even begun chemotherapy. They are only warming up and taking measures. There is no way this thing can disappear by itself and all these questions comes back to Misty."
"So you're just gonna give up your life for that wild, little thing? Why?"
Myrtle's voice was mellow, calm and with no trace of fear, when she said: "I've lived enough. My life is nearing its winter anyway. If it is my time, I'll go with Papa Legba gladly, if it gives that poor child a chance for a normal life."
Fiona scoffed. "I think you're being selfish. You have a chance to get better, but instead you're content with leaving us for the sake of this one kid. What about Cordelia? Or me for that matter?"
Myrtle reached out and placed her hand over Fiona's. "You can't possibly imagine what such a revelation would mean for that little one. And there's still hope for me. The New York doctors are not idiots."
Fiona withdrew her hand and looked over her shoulder, back to the living room and door of the adjoining bedroom, where the girls were sleeping. The New York night sparkled with light behind the window glass.
"Is this why Cordelia likes you better than me? Martyrdom?"
"Oh no dear, she doesn't like me better. I'm just easier to talk to."
Fiona didn't answer. She kept staring into the dark room, until she was sure her face would not betray her. Myrtle spoke of death as if it was nothing and it made Fiona's skin crawl. Her life was in its winter. There were seven years between them. Was seven years an entire season? How long before Fiona stepped into autumn? Had she already? She briefly wondered what Cordelia would think of that. Myrtle insisted that neither of the girls had to know of the cancer in her body, and Fiona could easily picture Cordelia's face, when she found out. The quiet tears filling up her eyes, sticking there without falling out. The curling of her mouth. Fiona may believe that Myrtle was stupid for keeping these secrets, but she understood why. That face hurt like nothing else in this world. Fiona supposed it hurt more than lung cancer.
Myrtle kept quiet while Fiona lost herself in thoughts. It was similar to the way Misty acted around her daughter, she realized. Like they could read the mood around them and knew when to hold their tongue, despite their custom loudness. Her eyes fell on the theramin on a shelf in the corner of the room and she thought that despite the absolute lack of resemblance between herself and Misty, the child did share certain traits with Myrtle.
"I was right about the theramin, wasn't I?" Fiona said and thought it safe enough to turn around to face Myrtle again. "I'm surprised Misty didn't go to sleep with it. If I'm awoken by that hideous noise tomorrow it's out the window."
Myrtle chuckled with more throaty laughter. "I'll make sure to keep it down. Otherwise I'd be down to only a curling iron to my name. That's a poor legacy to leave you."
Though Fiona did not care for the morbid death jokes, she could not help but chuckle along. She thought perhaps it was time to start appreciating having Myrtle around.
O0O
Misty spread her hands out on the ground of their back yard. She watched as the grass bent and rose between her fingers, felt it tickle her palm. The few hours she had endured in those airplanes that flew them from here to Myrtle's place and back had made her miss the earth terribly.
She had done better on the flight back, willed herself to stop shaking and crunching Cordelia's fingers. She had tried to focus on the sweet, comforting words Cordelia had whispered to her along the way and had it been any other situation, this would have been enough. Cordelia's voice in her ear used to have a soothing effect on her that was borderline magical. But not when she was heist into the air in a rumbling box made of steel, that flew like an eagle, but was not alive.
It did not please Fiona, when Misty had vomited on her shoes.
Now she felt at ease again. She could hear the nature, the hum of summer around her and Cordelia's presence had regained its mesmerizing effect. She lay on the blanket beside Misty and looked up into the sky with a thoughtful gaze and with her hands folded behind her head. Her blonde, angelic hair spread out in a fan around her head and mixed with the grass. Misty thought it was a beautiful sight.
Aging had done a lot to her, Misty sometimes thought. Becoming a teenager made her look slightly more like her mother, but without the sneer in her face and the hard eyes. She only took the beauty. And she had traces of her own that Misty guessed must come from her father. Cordelia said Misty was looking older too, and she told her she was becoming more pretty with age. Misty thought the same of her. She had noticed how the shape of Cordelia's body was changing too, growing curvier. Not much though; she had a slim figure. Misty often heard Fiona tell her she was too skinny and she didn't eat enough. Misty thought she was perfect the way she was.
Sometimes she had the urge to reach out and touch her skin. Hold her hand or wrap an arm around her waist as she had done so thoughtlessly as a child. She refrained from it now. First of all, because Fiona had caught her do it one day not too long ago and given her a long speech on how that was no longer appropriate, but the second reason was the most important: It felt different now. It used to be for comfort, like the way they used to sleep together all tangled up to feel safer, but now it left her wanting more. What, she didn't know, but one touch never felt like enough. She didn't understand it and it scared her.
She stopped playing with the grass and turned to look at Cordelia, who was still staring upwards into the blue above them. Misty took to studying her face. She often tried to guess her thoughts and sometimes she could, but not today.
"What're you thinkin' 'bout?" She asked. Cordelia blinked a few times and then blushed with faint pink. She looked at Misty with a shy smile.
"I was just lost in thought."
"Yeah, I see that."
She gave a nervous snicker. "Oh it's just… something Madison said the other day- it wasn't an insult, don't worry", she added the latter before Misty could open her mouth. Misty was on edge in an instant, much too used to this Madison-girl's words finding their way past Cordelia's defenses. "Not directly anyway. We were talking about, well, boys. Madison says she has already kissed a bunch of boys. Of course she thinks all of us who haven't are just slow. I don't know, am I? She's a couple of months younger than me, but she'll be fifteen soon too. Maybe it's a good time." She shrugged from her horizontal position and added: "Queenie says she hasn't either. She always tells me no one will want to, because she's too fat – she says that – but I don't see why a boy wouldn't want her. She's such a sweet, funny girl…" Cordelia fell silent and looked to the sky again. Her right hand started playing with a strand of her hair. "What do you think it's like?"
She looked to Misty, who shrugged. She had never given any thought to kissing. The only knowledge she had of it was from those movies Cordelia sometimes watched. She would notice how Cordelia's face grew soft or sometimes shone with a sense of yearning. Misty imagined it was something nice, some way to tell someone you like them.
"I don't know either. And I can't help but be afraid no one will ever want to kiss me. That they all think I'm too weird-looking."
"I think you're beautiful", Misty blurted out. "And I think they all wanna kiss you."
The new blush that rose in Cordelia's cheeks made Misty smile, an infectious one.
"You're the sweetest, Misty. What would I do without you?"
Misty shrugged again with a grin this time. "Don't know."
Cordelia smiled at her and closed her eyes. She gave a small sigh and her hand stopped its fidgeting. After a while her breathing slowed and Misty thought she was on the verge of falling asleep. It was a nice place to sleep, here in the summer sun on a warm Saturday. But Misty couldn't. Cordelia's musings had spawned one of her own.
Was that all kissing was? Showing someone you liked them? Because if so, Misty saw nothing wrong with these new intruding thoughts. She looked at Cordelia's sleeping face and for the first time her gaze fell to her lips. They had a pale, pink shade and they looked soft. They looked like something that would be nice to touch. Without thinking about it, Misty leaned in a little closer and the simple motion birthed a strange tingle in her stomach. She drew back immediately and mused over the sensation.
Simple as it seemed to Misty, she knew it wasn't so in reality. She knew Cordelia liked her in a way, but they never did these things. Kissing wasn't only an extension of affection.
Misty never told Cordelia about these thoughts she was beginning to have. She noticed how Fiona looked at her sometimes, when Misty couldn't keep from physical contact. Delphine gave her similar looks, but where Fiona's bore a warning, Delphine's was full of unequivocal disgust. At much as she liked to cross the hostile maid, she sensed she was out of bounce. So, Misty tried to keep her hands to herself unless Cordelia invited for a touch. It felt more allowed that way.
Several months later Cordelia pulled Misty aside after a party, she had attended the night before.
Misty invited her to tell what news she was apparently bursting with, blissfully unaware of the hit she was about to take.
"Well, I…" Cordelia blushed again and Misty's curiosity spiked. "Now I know. What it's like to kiss a boy."
Misty experienced the strangest kind of pain. It felt like a cut to the chest, but there was no physical wound she could put her hands to and fix. This one appeared within her chest. Misty was afraid Cordelia would see, so she put on her best smile and asked her how it was, all the while dreading the answer.
Cordelia snickered and made a grimace. "I'm not sure. Not as good as I imagined perhaps. I don't know him that well, and I don't know if I want to, but it's nice for once not to feel like an outsider."
It made Misty feel a little better, but did nothing to soothe the image of her with some faceless boy, exchanging this special gesture. She didn't know how to express this new, foreign kind of hurt and for just a moment, the longing for a mother flared up with all the pain. She longed for someone to turn to, someone who always had answers. But family was a washed out, abstract concept to Misty and she turned to the one thing that had always brought her comfort. She snuck out into their back yard and hid behind one of the large trees. This would do as her transmitter to the soul of Mother Earth. She had no clue where to begin, so she told the soul about Cordelia and the faceless boy.
"… I don't know what this feelin' is. It stings, but not like a sting of a bee or a cut. What is it? Mama help me. I think I'm feelin' somethin' I'm not supposed to. Delia's mom looks at me like I am. But I don't understand why it's so wrong?"
The cool autumn breeze caressed her face and tugged at her hair. Whispered to her without words that there was space for all her thoughts, if she wanted to be free of them.
"Everybody talks 'bout me as Delia's sister – when they don't call me 'pet' – 'cause that paper says so. But it doesn't feel like that. Fiona sometimes says that we're the weirdest sisters 'cause we don't fight and Delia always tells her we're not really sisters, but friends who live together. Does that mean she thinks same as me?"
The wind answered her, but offered no word of comfort. Still, it was soothing and though she was starting to feel cold after the hours of talking to the tree, she stayed a little longer.
O0O
Myrtle arrived at the Goode house yet another time. Cancer was not going to stop her from living. They had made a reasonable impact with radiation therapy now and she thought herself well enough to hide her sickness from the girls for a while longer.
The years made very little difference to the way she was greeted upon arrival. Fiona stayed in the door as always and Cordelia ran to her.
"Auntie Myrtle!" She threw her arms around Myrtle's neck and Myrtle made sure not to appear too fragile.
"Hello darling, is all well?"
Cordelia nodded and Myrtle pulled the other girl, who came up after Cordelia, into a hug as well.
"Always wonderful so see you girls! Come, friend, let's all go inside!" She gestured towards Spalding, who dragged her suitcase out of the car. She greeted her sister at the doorway and she did not miss the examining look she received, but she ignored it. No reason to kill the mood. If she was lucky she wouldn't have to tell them at all. She felt better already, one glowing girl on each side. Cordelia told her all about school as they settled into the living room. Misty had become more talkative over the years, but today she only sat and watched Myrtle with a strange curiosity. Myrtle didn't think strangeness to be an unusual quality, when it came to Misty. There was always a certain mystique to her, one that didn't fade as she aged and adapted to the world around her. It must be engraved in her very being, branded on her soul the day the lord granted her the special abilities.
"Now, what's this I hear about a boy?" Myrtle asked in a lower voice, once Fiona left the room. Cordelia snickered and blushed.
"It's nothing much anymore, Myrtle, just leave it be. I only kissed him a couple of times, but I don't know if it is anything."
Myrtle couldn't help peeking at Misty as Cordelia spoke. She curled up at the far end of the couch and fidgeted with a loose thread on her shirt. She looked up, when she felt Myrtle's eyes on her and the look on her face was unmistakable. It made Myrtle's old heart ache.
"Only time will tell, my darling. Now, I really can't miss my tea. Misty, dear, why don't you come help me with the cups?"
Misty nodded and followed Myrtle. She took out three cups, quiet all the while and her gaze focused on the porcelain. Myrtle went up behind her and squeezed her shoulders.
"Give it time, darling. She won't like this boy forever."
Misty flinched and looked up with wide eyes full of fright. Myrtle only nodded to emphasize her words.
"Please don't tell her", Misty whispered. Myrtle held a hand to her own chest; her heart could barely endure the sound of the girl's plea. How odd it was, that the only thing strong enough to scare the fierce wild child was her own feelings. That and airplanes.
"Don't you worry, dear child. Now let me see a smile, there's hope yet."
Misty gave her one and it stayed on for the remainder of the evening. She was a cheerful girl, luckily.
At night Myrtle woke to a coughing fit. The doctors had not succeeded in steam frying that out of her yet and she fought herself out of bed and down to the kitchen, while trying to choke the sound in a handkerchief. Tea soothed some of the ache in her throat and she rushed to get the water boiling. The cramps of her diaphragm, as the coughing fit wore on, made it almost impossible to control her movements. It made it hard to even stand. Sweat broke out on her forehead and she felt dizzy already.
"Let me help."
She had hoped for Fiona's voice, but it was Misty, who greeted her. Her chest tightened with sadness underneath the cramp at the sight she must be to Misty's young eyes. She wanted to tell the girl that she was fine and to go back to bed now, but she couldn't get a word out. Only when a small hand spread out on her back and the most peculiar sense of heat seeped from the touch, did her coughing stop. Myrtle suddenly realized what Misty was doing.
"Darling no, you must stop." She turned and folded her hand around the girl's tiny wrist. She wiped the sweat from her forehead and tried to catch Misty's eyes. Misty didn't look at her, as her eyes were zoned in on her chest.
"You're sick. Right in there. I can feel it." Her free arm reached out, but Myrtle halted that too. Only then did the haze of trance that Myrtle had seen only a couple of times before, lift from Misty's eyes and she looked up. Her eyes spoke a clear question.
"I can't let you do it, little one. You can't possibly know the consequences."
"But you're sick, Aunt Myrtle."
It made a greater impact on her to hear Misty say it than she thought it would have. All her work to keep it from the girls and she realized, she had not accounted for Misty's special connection to the broken body.
"I know I am, love. But things are not as simple as you may believe. Many people will question what happened if the sickness suddenly disappeared from my body. They could come for you and I can't let that happen." She cupped the girl's face. "You have something special, Misty, but you must be careful who you show it to. Not everyone will understand and people fear what they don't understand. That fear could hurt you. So you just let me handle this one myself. Don't waste your life on me, child."
"What about Cordelia?" Misty asked instead.
"Have you told her?"
Misty shook her head in Myrtle's hands.
"Good. We must keep each other's secrets then, won't we? She would only worry too much, if she knew now, don't you think?"
The girl nodded.
"I agree. So we won't tell her."
Misty worked herself out of Myrtle's hands and hugged her arms around her. A broken chuckle of surprise came out of Myrtle's throat and she bent down to kiss Misty's head.
"I don't want you to die", Misty mumbled into her layers of clothes.
"Oh sweet child, I'm not going to die anytime soon! They have me covered, don't you worry your pretty head! But if it happens…" She pulled Misty out at an arms length to make sure she had eye contact. "You'll take good care of my niece, won't you?"
Misty sniffled and nodded.
"Good. Now off to bed we go! It looks like tea won't be necessary after all."
