Home is much as it ever was. Danielle and my mother both trying to make Cinders as miserable as they can, and her getting back at them-us, actually- in any way she can. But I cannot stop thinking about how I left things with Trent the night before. Those next few days I seem to pause and wonder if I should go visit him every few hours. My mother snaps at me several times when I sit there with my meager embroidery in my lap, just staring off into space.
Maybe that is why it takes me longer than usual to notice the extra activity in the house. At first I wondered if it is just I, if I am moving too slowly, because everyone is buzzing around like bees. But after overhearing several female serfs comparing gossip, I get the picture. Cinders has finally been called by Society to join. Seeing as how she is a year my elder, I will soon be following her example.
Pretty soon I am sick of all these games being played in my home. Danielle, who has already joined Society, and my mother fighting to make Cinders appear as undesirable for Society as possible without making it obvious, and Cinders trying to figure out what is fashionable. I have no part in these games. I do not particularly care whether or not Cinder makes it into Society. My mother does seem to get into an improved mood when she's gotten the better of Cinders, though, so I really do root for my mother.
Cinders and my mother are once again arguing about how tightly her dress should be attached. My mother swears that the droopy look is very much used his year, but Cinder stands her ground. She has a figure and wants the dress to show that off however it can. I can no longer stand it. I slip out of the room before either Cinders or my mother can protest. I step outside, enjoying the clean air that does not smell like roses and lavender, or whatever new plant my mother has dragged inside and placed all over the house.
My feet are placed comfortably in my new slippers and I step over the small stones in the path as if they are non-existent. I approach Trent's home, and I knock on the side door, where I used to knock. Trent's cousin, Annabelle, answers the door, her face bright until she sees it's me.
"Oh! Viviann." Her face settles into a sort of bitter resentment. She was never good at hiding her feelings. "So you come along now? Now that he is long gone?"
"What are you speaking of? Who is gone?" Realization begins to creep upon me. "So soon?" These words tremble as they escape my lips and cannot do anything to impede them. How could he have left without so much as a by-your-leave? I might have said something appropriate so as to give us some closure.
"So soon, indeed! I sent Johnny to your house the moment the notice came! And now you mean to sound as if you didn't know. I always expected to see the girls broken-hearted, not him." With that said and none, she slams the door shut in my face.
I stand there for longer than is necessary, I think. I cannot get over the shock of it. Trent gone, as if overnight. One day I see him, and he lives next door, the next he is off to some distant city to become a gentleman. And my mother doesn't even feel the need to relay the message to me. As if she is to decide what is important enough to reach my ears.
I walk back to my house as if in a trance. Cinders and my mother are still arguing and I do not find it surprising that they didn't even notice my leaving. "Mother," I interrupt, not caring what he backlash of disrupting such a vicious quarrel will be, "did a message come for me, a couple days ago? From the young boy next door, the son of the-"
"The blacksmith boy? Oh yes, now that you mention it, in the most inopportune of times indeed, too! Don't you see I'm-"
"What was the message, may I ask, dear mother?" my voice is calm, much calmer than I ever might have gotten it to be by sheer will.
"Something about a treat. That a treat was leaving the next day. Whatever nonsense he was speaking about is surely over by now anyway, for that was last week. Anyhow, I had you scheduled to come with me for a visit to Lady Valora's house. I could not have spared you." She tells me this as if she is telling me . . .well, this is the manner in which she told me how babies are made, in which ways to keep my stomach flat, and how my father died, so perhaps this is a bad comparison.
I nod, almost before I notice I do. "Of course, mother." With that I leave my mother screeching for me to stop and to help her convince Cinders of something. I do not care what she is screaming at me, for I am walking out of that house, and soon I will be at the fountain, where I can do what I wish without the eyes of my mother judging my every move.
I ignore everyone around me, busy selling things, buying things, stealing things. I don't care much for what they are doing. I just want to sit at the water's edge and touch the fountain's surface with my finger, and wish that I could turn back time.
So for once I get my way. Of course time does not turn back, but I sit there instead, with the memories of him sitting next to me, talking to me, clear in my mind.
This is when Jacob approaches me. Or, more accurately, brushes past me roughly and I grab his arm before he can move on. "What do you want?" he spats. I cringe back at this vicious attitude. This is not the greeting I expected from an old friend.
"What's wrong? Why are you like this?" Tears want to fall, again. I manage to suck them in though, saving me the embarrassment.
"Why shouldn't I be like this? Are you saying I should be happy about what you've become?"
"Why does everyone assume I meant to?" I scream, getting close to him, amplifying the volume of my voice. Several people stop to stare, but at this moment I could care less. "Is it not realistic that my mother didn't announce to me his departure? Is that really something so unbelievable! You know my mother!" The tears come unwanted down my cold cheeks, and I brush them away before they can freeze.
Jacob doesn't answer me for a moment or two. At last he mutters, "I never thought of it that way. It's just . . . you had to see him. You could see his spirit breaking. He hoped until the very last that you would come."
"I didn't meant to," I whisper, looking down at the frozen ground. Before I can say more Jacob's arm is around my shoulders, leading me back towards my home. I cannot find the will or strength to fight his firm grip and I just lean on him, the tears still falling.