Travels through the Alphabet with Mai
Part 17: Quietude
Mai had always been a thinker, a subdued child who observed a situation before diving in. That's not to say she was averse to fun or minus a sense of humour. In fact, Mai could be quite mischievous. She simply couldn't see the point of talking if she really had nothing to say.
Quiet was one thing. Her parents appreciated that, thinking her demure. But they also wished they could prod Mai at will, when presented before guests or meeting fellow nobles unexpectedly, and have her spout charming phrases like some human fountain. They couldn't and she didn't. The girl stared down at her feet instead, stubborn, shy, enraged that she was trotted out like a prize animal rather than cherished as a daughter.
Her father shrugged off her behaviour and suggested that Mai make only a brief appearance during dinners and parties; a sweet smile and then off to her room for an early bed. Children need their rest after all, especially bright, active ones such as their daughter. That's what they would tell their guests. And these guests would nod agreeably while inside a certain curiosity bloomed. A bit of mystery never went amiss; anything to help Mai's father along on his path to high ranking government official, anything.
Mai was relieved to be shunted off to her private space. So she endured the few minutes bravely enough, cringing inside when adults patted her on the head or spoke down at her as though she were brainless. The chatter and laughter wafted lazily up the staircase and penetrated the barrier of Mai's door. She resented the noise, did not find it pleasant or soothing, even when her mother's tittering rose above that of the other ladies. She rolled her little eyes and grumbled something to herself before settling down with a book, pillows piled up around her, her own fortress.
Inside Mai lost herself in the story for awhile before putting down the book and closing her eyes. She imagined not a different future than the one her parents wanted for her, for them, but that she had choice. That's all she wanted, really; recognition as an individual with individual needs and desires and skills and flaws. Mai was too young to do anything about her situation. She rebelled in her own small ways and each disapproving look was a victory.
She was perceptive enough to realize that despite their failings, her mother and father loved her and all their pushing and expectations were to ensure her some sort of idealized position in society; in other words, they hoped she would marry into a high ranking noble family and live a life very much like theirs. What she herself might want did not appear to matter. Her future was a blur, some misty unknown time and that both frightened and excited Mai.
But in her room and within herself, a quietude existed. It kept her strong and it kept her sane and she crafted it with care and precision. Inside that quietude, Mai had complete control. Inside that quietude, Mai was almost happy.
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A/N: Is anyone besides Private Fire reading these?