CHAPTER SEVEN: Dangerous Truths
PART THREE…Distracted…
Hearing the door chime, Vanessa's paintbrush paused in midair. They were quite early. Climbing to her feet, she moved from the canvas laid on the floor. She was wearing a dirty smock, but didn't have time to change. She hobbled to the bathroom sink to scrub the oil paint from her brushes, hastily scraping the pigment from her hands.
Staring off futilely into the corner, she busied her hands, listening to the greeting in the next room. From there, she heard Vash welcome them. Millie and Meryl were making baby talk to Tessla.
The brushes were full of paint. This was taking too long.
Vanessa abandoned the dirty brushes, wiped her hands, and entered the main room. "Hello," she said softly with a blank stare.
The girls looked up from the baby momentarily to answer.
Millie found herself staring at Vanessa a bit too long, and blushed. "Tessla's a really beautiful baby," she commented, filling the silence while turning once more to the rosy-cheeked infant.
Not fully able to see her daughter's face, Vanessa simply smiled, moving along the wall to a seat. Beside her lay the canvas. Meryl's foot seemed awfully close to its edge. Reaching down, Vanessa grabbed the canvas frame and tipped it up against the wall. A tiny dot of dark, concentrated paint rubbed off onto her forefinger in the action.
Continuing their cutesy coos, the girls attempted to catch the infant's attention, beaming once she smiled. Only after several long minutes did they notice that Vanessa wanted to begin their consultation of sorts.
"Sorry we're early, but we thought nine was kind of late. Considering little Tessla's bedtime and all," Meryl explained, more to Vash than to Vanessa.
Vash waved his hand dismissively. "Don't worry about it. Our plan won't really take too long to explain anyhow."
Vanessa cleared her throat. "So, shall we begin, then?"
Finding seats, the girls held Tessla.
"Well, as you know, the facts will be that Tessla is now seven years of age. She was with us when we boarded, and if anyone contests this, the data files all have been altered to prove that she was. Her birthdate is February second of seven years ago, if anyone asks. Generally, you must not speak of her until she appears closer to that age, since you would only be piling lies atop lies in order to avoid suspicion. Only speak of her if asked, and even then be brief. If asked why she isn't appearing in the children's class sessions and interaction areas, claim that we Vash and I are overly protective, and that Tessla is a frail child to boot. Much like the excuses I've used to keep people from seeing my pregnancy recently, we can explain away her lack of public appearance by fervent religion and sickness. So long as she is not thought to be deathly ill they cannot intervene. If asked what exactly ails Tessla, claim it as anemia and low blood pressure. I've already entered these into medical records as the diagnosis. Understood, thus far?"
Meryl nodded. Holding in her opinion, Meryl felt it best to remain silent. After all, this was the mother speaking, and as such she had every right to regulate these things, but still...
"I just don't see why we have to lie about little Tessla's health. I mean, I understand how she's going to seem different and all, but we can just say she's really shy, right?" Millie asked sweetly.
"Shy won't explain why no one ever sees her." Vanessa felt a tingling itch at her cheek scars, and moved to scratch them as she spoke. "She's a weak child, too weak to leave our rooms until she's older, at which time she'll have regained rigor. In actuality, I'm sure there'll be instances in which we take her amongst the other children, but only when away from teachers' watchful eyes, and only when we refer to her as 'a friend's daughter' and not our own."
Meryl stared at the little series of bright blue smears Vanessa's finger left upon her cheek. They accentuated the scar tissue and forced Meryl to lose track of the conversation.
"Miss Vanessa?" Millie asked uncomfortably, glancing at the somber expression on Vash's face. "You know, my mother always told us that little kids only turn into brats when they're not around other children enough. It would surely be awful for her if that happened, don't you agree?"
Vanessa frowned. "Children like that don't always turn into brats. When it's for survival they don't. I didn't." She squinted, wondering why Meryl's posture was so casual suddenly.
"Oh. Okay," Millie softly agreed, finding herself also distracted by the blue paint. "Um, and Miss Vanessa? You've got some stuff on your face."
Frowning still, Vanessa stood motionless. She brought a hand to her face and squinted, finally noticing the pigment. "So I do," she assumed softly.
Vash finally looked up to her, and focused on the paint. He stifled a chuckle.
Millie also held in a giggle, much less successfully.
Vanessa's face turned red beneath the blue smears, annoyed and embarrassed. "It's paint. Just paint. But back to Tessla, the reason why you both are-"
Allowing a bit of mirth through, Vash interrupted. "It's really funny looking, Vanessa."
She grew very quiet, staring off into a corner, waiting for them to listen once more. This was too serious a topic to joke through.
The others allowed their laughter to die down quickly, feeling a little guilty for reacting this way, considering the topic of discussion.
"Sorry," Meryl muttered.
Vanessa's blank gaze remained fixed on the distance, her face still beet red. Her voice was low, words spoken slowly. "I want Tessla to become more adept at interaction than I am. For that reason, you two are welcome to visit with her as often as possible. Your visits will be invaluable to her, I'm sure."
Meryl and Millie exchanged glances.
After a long silence, Vash reached over and patted Millie and Meryl's hands. "You can be her aunts, huh? That's so great!"
Millie nodded happily.
Meryl seemed a bit disturbed by the comments as a whole, but smiled nonetheless.
"Well, I'd like to return to my canvas now," Vanessa continued softly. "But you're both welcome to stay."
The girls sat in an awkward pause as Vanessa made her way back to the bathroom for the brushes, and returned to sit on the floor before the propped canvas. Vanessa's brush strokes were slow and heavy, building up an image still too undefined to identify.
Once Vash began to make small talk with them, they grew more comfortable. Ignoring Vanessa's presence, they cooed to Tessla and asked Vash about his classes into the night.