Chapter Three : The Doll You Wanted
Saviya looked up at the large white mansion in front of her, unimpressed. Charles could not possibly need all the room. She felt more at home in a tent that was always being uprooted than she ever could here. She put the bags on the porch next to her feet and knocked hard on the door. No answer. Saviya knocked again, harder this time, and began to shift her weight on her feet as she waited. Finally a maid answered and looked at Saviya expectantly, waiting to be told who she was.
"I'm 'ere to see my father," Saviya told her, reaching down and grabbing her bags.
The maid looked confused, "I'm sorry. Only Commodore Duvonfloure is here and he has no children."
"What do you mean, no children?! Of course 'e has a child! I'm standing right here, ain't I? So go tell him that Saviya is 'ere," Saviya told her, amazed at her stupidity. No children? Pah. The maid nodded at length and left to pass the message along. Meanwhile, Saviya got tired of being on the porch and walked inside. The foyer was impossibly tall, she thought as she stared up at the huge crystal chandelier. She had crystal also, a nice piece of it on a dirty necklace she wore. Everything was clean and sparse, and so terribly bland. All this money and no taste at all.
Charles walked into the foyer and she saw him before he saw her. He didn't look right at all. For one thing, he had one of those silly wigs on, wore the same uncomfortable attire as the men she'd seen earlier in town, and the light of happiness in his eyes she remembered as a child was now gone. But the thought of seeing her father again after so many years pushed all those little warning signs away.
"Dat (Father)!" she exclaimed, rushing across the room and throwing her arms around her father. She grinned wildly, feeling exuberant. But when he stiffened and did not return the hug, Saviya stepped back cautiously and looked at him. "What's the matter?" she asked slowly.
"Ma'am, I think you have the wrong- "Charles started to say but when he looked down and saw her eyes, he gasped. "Saviya!" He held her at arm's length. "What on earth are you doing here?"
The smile disappeared from her face when she realized he did not know. Quietly and quickly, she told him what had happened and why she was here. He was silent, his face blank and when she was done, he excused himself and went into the next room. Deciding to leave him to his own thoughts for a while, she left her bags by the door and walked through the house, examining all the large rooms. When she felt a sufficient amount of time had passed, she went back downstairs and into the room he'd gone into.
Charles was just setting the decanter back on the table and picking up his newly refilled glass when she came in quietly. He grinned at her after taking a large drink, which she thought odd of him after the news of Jessenia's death.
"Saviya, my dear, it will be so nice to have you with me again. Of course, you'll be treated like a queen here, with plenty of money to buy all the dresses you need. Don' t need to sleep in a tent or outside, anymore. No, no, that was a bit absurd," he shook his head laughing a bit as she frowned at him. "Always thought you two should have come with me."
"'en why dint you say so?" she asked. She knew she would have hated Port Royal, but why hadn't he cared enough to ask.
"Your mother was very...persuasive. Besides, you're here now, aren't you? But I must say, you certainly do look...well, poor. That skirt and that shirt...and your hair! My, my. Well, we shall get you new clothes and get that hair out of your face. The only women who wear their hair down are the prostitutes on the other side of town."
Saviya's eyes were wide with shock, "If ye think I will let ye jest DOLL me up 'n make me sumvun else, ye are dili (crazy)! Jessenia, yer wife, me mother, is dead and these are yer worries? Well, 'ere, this is what ye can 'ave!"
She ran from the room, up the stairs and into the bathroom. Picking up the shears on the counter, she grabbed a hold of her waist length hair and began cutting angrily. The long black tendrils fell to the floor where they curled on the marble. When she was done, her hair fell just below her shoulders in somewhat choppy layers. Shaking it out, she marched back downstairs with the fallen hair in her hand and flung it at Charles' feet.
"There! Ye can 'ave my bal (hair)! Use it to make the doll ye want!" she screamed at him.
He looked outraged, "Look, you, I will not stand for this backtalk, do you hear me?"
She took a step forward. "No, I will not hear ye! Ye once had a heart that was worthy of me mother," she gave a disgusted look before continuing, "but now, if she could see ye like this, she would spit on ye. 'N since she can't, I will 'ave to." Saviya spit at his cheek and he flinched, but was silent.
Saviya walked out the doorway back into the foyer and grabbed her bags. Opening the door, she turned to give him one last contemptuous look. "Ye once held heaven in yer hands with me mother. And ye gave it up for this?" she waved her hand to indicate the cold and empty house. "Well, then ye can go to hell."
She slammed the door behind her as she stalked proudly away from the mansion, the grass soft beneath her feet as she cut across the lawn. Inside, Charles stood silent for several more minutes, not moving form the spot he was in. He then proceeded to finish his drink, pick up the hair, and go back to his own business. Saviya wandered around town for several hours before she found herself back at the docks.
Saviya looked up at the large white mansion in front of her, unimpressed. Charles could not possibly need all the room. She felt more at home in a tent that was always being uprooted than she ever could here. She put the bags on the porch next to her feet and knocked hard on the door. No answer. Saviya knocked again, harder this time, and began to shift her weight on her feet as she waited. Finally a maid answered and looked at Saviya expectantly, waiting to be told who she was.
"I'm 'ere to see my father," Saviya told her, reaching down and grabbing her bags.
The maid looked confused, "I'm sorry. Only Commodore Duvonfloure is here and he has no children."
"What do you mean, no children?! Of course 'e has a child! I'm standing right here, ain't I? So go tell him that Saviya is 'ere," Saviya told her, amazed at her stupidity. No children? Pah. The maid nodded at length and left to pass the message along. Meanwhile, Saviya got tired of being on the porch and walked inside. The foyer was impossibly tall, she thought as she stared up at the huge crystal chandelier. She had crystal also, a nice piece of it on a dirty necklace she wore. Everything was clean and sparse, and so terribly bland. All this money and no taste at all.
Charles walked into the foyer and she saw him before he saw her. He didn't look right at all. For one thing, he had one of those silly wigs on, wore the same uncomfortable attire as the men she'd seen earlier in town, and the light of happiness in his eyes she remembered as a child was now gone. But the thought of seeing her father again after so many years pushed all those little warning signs away.
"Dat (Father)!" she exclaimed, rushing across the room and throwing her arms around her father. She grinned wildly, feeling exuberant. But when he stiffened and did not return the hug, Saviya stepped back cautiously and looked at him. "What's the matter?" she asked slowly.
"Ma'am, I think you have the wrong- "Charles started to say but when he looked down and saw her eyes, he gasped. "Saviya!" He held her at arm's length. "What on earth are you doing here?"
The smile disappeared from her face when she realized he did not know. Quietly and quickly, she told him what had happened and why she was here. He was silent, his face blank and when she was done, he excused himself and went into the next room. Deciding to leave him to his own thoughts for a while, she left her bags by the door and walked through the house, examining all the large rooms. When she felt a sufficient amount of time had passed, she went back downstairs and into the room he'd gone into.
Charles was just setting the decanter back on the table and picking up his newly refilled glass when she came in quietly. He grinned at her after taking a large drink, which she thought odd of him after the news of Jessenia's death.
"Saviya, my dear, it will be so nice to have you with me again. Of course, you'll be treated like a queen here, with plenty of money to buy all the dresses you need. Don' t need to sleep in a tent or outside, anymore. No, no, that was a bit absurd," he shook his head laughing a bit as she frowned at him. "Always thought you two should have come with me."
"'en why dint you say so?" she asked. She knew she would have hated Port Royal, but why hadn't he cared enough to ask.
"Your mother was very...persuasive. Besides, you're here now, aren't you? But I must say, you certainly do look...well, poor. That skirt and that shirt...and your hair! My, my. Well, we shall get you new clothes and get that hair out of your face. The only women who wear their hair down are the prostitutes on the other side of town."
Saviya's eyes were wide with shock, "If ye think I will let ye jest DOLL me up 'n make me sumvun else, ye are dili (crazy)! Jessenia, yer wife, me mother, is dead and these are yer worries? Well, 'ere, this is what ye can 'ave!"
She ran from the room, up the stairs and into the bathroom. Picking up the shears on the counter, she grabbed a hold of her waist length hair and began cutting angrily. The long black tendrils fell to the floor where they curled on the marble. When she was done, her hair fell just below her shoulders in somewhat choppy layers. Shaking it out, she marched back downstairs with the fallen hair in her hand and flung it at Charles' feet.
"There! Ye can 'ave my bal (hair)! Use it to make the doll ye want!" she screamed at him.
He looked outraged, "Look, you, I will not stand for this backtalk, do you hear me?"
She took a step forward. "No, I will not hear ye! Ye once had a heart that was worthy of me mother," she gave a disgusted look before continuing, "but now, if she could see ye like this, she would spit on ye. 'N since she can't, I will 'ave to." Saviya spit at his cheek and he flinched, but was silent.
Saviya walked out the doorway back into the foyer and grabbed her bags. Opening the door, she turned to give him one last contemptuous look. "Ye once held heaven in yer hands with me mother. And ye gave it up for this?" she waved her hand to indicate the cold and empty house. "Well, then ye can go to hell."
She slammed the door behind her as she stalked proudly away from the mansion, the grass soft beneath her feet as she cut across the lawn. Inside, Charles stood silent for several more minutes, not moving form the spot he was in. He then proceeded to finish his drink, pick up the hair, and go back to his own business. Saviya wandered around town for several hours before she found herself back at the docks.