October 2, 1998
She walked around the room, running her fingertips along the stone wall; her fingers ached to find a window and fling it open. To feel the sun on her face or the rain on her cheeks. She missed the rain.
How long had it been since she'd felt the rain on her cheeks? Years, definitely, but she wasn't sure how many. Maybe fifteen now, maybe closer to twenty. Time seemed to twist and turn inside these walls. Seemed to creep by so slowly she thought the days might never end. But at the same time, it flew by. Sands of time slipping through her fingers faster than she could catch them.
She stared at the grey stone that surrounded her and allowed her mind to gloss it over. To make it softer and warmer and almost sparkle. It was bearable that way. If she turned the cold stone into a color that was everything she wanted, she could survive.
It was going to be one of those days. One of the days where it would take everything in her to hold her mind together. One of the days that threatened to scatter the fragments of her memories to the far corners of this little room and hide them there forever.
She touched the wall again, trying to ground herself enough to actually feel alive again. She looked at her hands and was pleased to note that they no longer trembled.
A noise came from behind her, but she didn't turn. The door would open, she knew. The healer would come in, leave the vials, and walk back out the door. The door would close behind her and she'd be alone again with nothing but her thoughts.
She pressed her head against the stone wall and lost herself in the grey. She focused her mind and brought memories forward. This was how she spent her days, reliving a life she'd once had, wondering where it all went wrong and hoping she'd find something locked away somewhere that would fix it. Like she'd done so many times before, looking for answers, she remembered.
...
September 12, 1964
It was raining. Calandra held her hand out and felt the rain drops on her palm. She could hear her father in the next room. Her mother had shut the door, but it didn't quite muffle the sound.
"Don't know why you insist on coddling-"
She edged farther away from the door, going to stand on the furthest most corner of the porch, tears streaming down her face.
"It wouldn't be a problem if she were normal!" Her father bellowed. "If you were n-"
Calandra sank down to her knees and sobbed. The rain grew so intense that it finally drowned out her father's shouts. She wished more than anything she was normal.
Her mother found her there; hunkered down on the porch, staring out at the garden, tears slowly trickling down her face.
"Oh, love. What are you doing out here?" she knelt down and wrapped the small girl in her arms.
"Watching the rain." Calandra mumbled, wiping her nose.
"It's beautiful at times isn't it?" Her mother smiled down at her and wiped away her tears. "Early in the morning when it's just barely misting over the garden."
"I like it better when it rains a lot. When it thunders loud."
Calandra lay her head against her mother's shoulder and breathed in the familiar smell of lavender and cigarettes.
"Oh my," her mother shook her head. "You don't think it's a bit scary when it's a downpour?"
The little girl shook her head and looked up.
"I like hearing just the rain." she whispered.
Her mother looked down at the blue eyes staring up back at her, then back up out at the garden. It had stopped raining.
"I like hearing the rain, too." she whispered.
...
July 24, 1966
Calandra skipped in the garden, picking flowers and singing softly under her breath. She loved her mother's flowers. She had never seen flowers that changed color before. None of the neighbors had flowers that could do that. These were her favorites.
"Lu lu skip to my lu. Lu lu skip to my lu. Lu lu skip to my-"
"Calandra!" Her father's voice stopped her in her tracks. "Stop that at once. No one wants to hear that racket."
"Yes, sir." she called and hung her head, looking down at the flowers in her hands.
They didn't change colors.
They were grey. She didn't really like the grey flowers.
...
March 10, 1969
"Calandra!"
Calandra jumped, almost spilling her tea.
What did she do?
"Calandra! When I call for you, you're to answer me! Where are you?" Her father's voice grew louder as he approached the dining room.
"Yes, I'm ...in here...in the dining room." she said, her eyes on the door, waiting for him to enter .
Her father walked through the door way and crossed his arms. He stared at her. She couldn't tell if it was a challenge or open curiosity
"I've just had the most curious conversation with Ms. Pierce. Would you like to know what we spoke about?"
Calandra's shoulders relaxed a bit. Ms. Pierce was the nicest teacher at her primary school. She didn't get into trouble at school and Ms. Pierce was her favorite teacher.
"Sure," she said putting a bookmark in her book.
"She wanted to congratulate me, it seems."
His voice was light, but Calandra knew that meant little.
"On what?" The young girl asked warily.
"On my daughter for being so gifted, apparently." he said each word with careful precision.
Oh no. She'd asked Ms. Pierce not to saying anything. Calandra clutched her book to her chest.
"Apparently, my daughter has a natural talent," his eyes were nothing but ice as he continued. "In the arts."
"Yes, well. I wanted to get good marks and the whole class had to do it, and I just..." she trailed off at his expression.
"She gave me this," he said taking a piece of paper from his pocket. "Said she was amazed at the techniques you used at your young age."
Calandra didn't have to look to know it was the portrait of her mother.
"I thought mum would like it." Calandra said, knowing she shouldn't.
Her father was furious.
"You will not waste your life on trivial things such as this. No more. NO MORE!"
He moved from the wall and slammed his hands on the table.
"I never want to see anything like this again. Not at school, not at home, not anywhere."
He stood up and crumpled the paper in his hand and leaned over the table. Calandra stared at her teacup.
"You're to tell your teacher you're not interested in the little art classes and you're to leave the choir."
Her eyes shot up.
"Oh yes, I know all about that," he said quietly and smiled. It was wicked.
"Why?" She whispered.
She always asked, hoping the answer might be different.
"You know why. There is no need for you to waste your life singing songs or doodling on papers. You heard what I said. No more."
He dropped the paper, turned on his heel, and strode out the door. Tears pricked behind her eyes. Calandra heard raindrops on the window as she smoothed out the paper. Her mother's eyes stared up at her from the wrinkles. She placed the paper in her book, wiped away her tears, and went out to the garden to wait for her mother to come home from the market. She couldn't stay inside that house any longer.
...
May 28, 1972
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I don't know what happened!" She cried.
It was raining. So hard. She couldn't see much through the grey sheets that flung cold raindrops in on them.
"What did you do?" Her father grabbed her shoulders and shook her. "WHAT DID YOU DO?"
"Nothing! I didn't touch anything. I promise. I just wanted to be outside! I didn't do anything. I'm sorry."
Calandra trembled in his vice-like grip.
"So you're telling me you didn't slam the door so hard it broke the windows in the front room and caused the door to come off its hinges."
His fingers would bruise her.
"No. No, I promise I didn't. I turned the knob and it just broke. I didn't slam it. I promise"
"DONT LIE TO ME!" her father roared, shaking her.
The wind whipped her hair everywhere; dark curls wrapping around her neck. Thunder roared and rain lashed at her face.
"Calandra! Johnathon! What's wrong?" her mother was running up the drive.
"Are you hurt? What's wrong?" She knelt beside Calandra.
"Johnathon," her mother's voice was sharp. "Let go of her."
Her father released her, and she sank into her mother.
"I. I.. I don't know," she sniffed. "I didn't slam the door but the…the windows broke and I..."
"Shh. Shh. It's ok, let's go inside." she picked her up and carried her, big as Calandra was. "Johnathon, you can carry the food in."
"Mum, I promise-" she began
"I know, I know love. It's ok. You didn't do anything wrong." her mother sat her down on the sofa and ran gentle hands down her arms.
"Mum..." Calandra started. She'd tried to say this so many times.
"Yes, my darling."
Her mother tucked a wet strand of hair behind her ear.
"I think something's wrong with me," she said, scared of the words.
She hurried on before she lost the courage to speak.
"I didn't mean to make it happen, but I wanted it to. I didn't slam the door, but I thought about breaking the door. I think it was me."
Her mother stared at her.
"It's..it's other things, too. I made Richard fall at the park when he stole Margaret's shoes and told her she couldn't do anything because she was a girl, and I...I wanted the car to break down when we went to the market last month. I just...I didn't want to come home and I wished that we could stay there...and I...mum...there's something wrong with me. He's right." she broke off with a sob
Her mother held her and stroked her hair. They just sat there, dripping on the carpet for a few minutes as the storm died down. Then her mother sat up. Her mouth was a thin line when she spoke.
"Darling. I need you to go up to your room for a bit. You're not in trouble and you've done nothing wrong."
She brought Calandra's face up to look at her.
"You have done nothing wrong. There is nothing wrong with you." her mother's voice was fierce.
"Mummy will be up in just a moment and we'll spend some time together. Go on up now."
She patted Calandra's hand and stood her up.
"Go on. I'll be right there. Remember, you've done nothing wrong."
Calandra nodded and walked up the stairs. She went to the bureau and took out her pajamas. She changed out of her wet clothes and slipped into her pajamas and sat on the edge of her bed. Her mother wasn't upset with her...she rarely was. But her father was livid. She'd never seen him that angry and that was saying something.
Her mother's voice echoed in her head.
There's nothing wrong with you.
But she was wrong. There was something wrong with her. Calandra couldn't figure out what it was, though. Sometimes it felt like she was on fire. Like her fingers were burning and her throat was burning, and she didn't know what was wrong.
She could hear her father's voice downstairs. He was yelling at her mother. He was always yelling at her mother...but her mother was yelling back this time.
That was new.
Their voices faded away and she heard footsteps. Her mother opened the door to her bedroom and stood there staring at her, a small smile playing on her face.
"He's upset with me." Calandra said.
Her mother's smile fell.
"He'll get over it," she said.
"He thinks there is something wrong with me." Calandra said, quietly.
"I told you. There is nothing wrong with you." her mother said.
"There is though, mum. There is something wrong with me." Calandra twisted her hands in her lap
Her mother came over and sat on her bed. She kicked off her shoes and settled against the headboard.
"Come here." she said and opened her arms.
Calandra climbed up and settled against her mother.
"There is nothing wrong with you," her mother said against her hair. "There isn't a single thing wrong with you."
She hugged her tight, then pulled away a bit to look down at her.
"There is nothing wrong with you, but there is something very special about you." her mother said, stroking her hair.
"There is something so so very special about you. You're bright, and you're kind, and you're hardworking, and you're beautiful. But there is something else, you know."
Calandra looked up at her mother who was staring down at her with tears in her eyes.
"You have magic in you." her mother said.
Calandra's face scrunched up.
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"Just what I said, love. You're magical. There is a whole world you'll find out about. A world with witches and wizards and magic and just so many things you'll love."
"What?"
"I know it's a lot. I know. But I'll show you. Mummy has magic too, you know."
Her mother pulled a long thin stick from her pocket. Then with a smile and a flick of the stick she made a teacup appear.
Her mother laughed.
"I love doing that. I've missed it."
"Why can you? How can you do that?" Calandra asked. "Do it again!"
Her mother obliged and handed the teacup to Calandra.
"It's real, I promise." her mother said.
"It's real." Calandra breathed.
"How long have you been able to do that?" she asked in wonder.
"Years and years," her mother said setting her teacup on the bedside table.
"And you will be able to as well. You have magic in you." Her mother smiled at her. "You'll do great things"
"How do I do it? Will you show me?" Calandra asked eagerly
"I'll help, but I can't teach you everything. That's what I wanted to talk to you about. There is a special school for people who can do magic."
Calandra's eyes narrowed at her mother.
"This isn't some sort of trick is it. He isn't trying to put me away? Is special school just a nice way to say asylum?"
Her mother looked like she wanted to cry.
"I'd never let him put you away. He's kept you in a box for long enough."
She took a deep breath and continued.
"The school is real. I'll show you myself. We'll do everything, just the two of us. We'll go look at books and supplies and meet teachers and he'll stay here."
A smile slowly stole across Calandra's face, then dimmed.
"He doesn't want me to go, though. Does he? That's what you argued about isn't it?"
Her mother's eyes grew guarded. She chewed her bottom lip and shook her head.
"He thought you'd be safer if you lived here. Away from the magic." she said carefully.
"Why? Is it very dangerous?" Calandra asked.
"It can be, just like everything else in the world, but that isn't exactly why your father wanted to keep you here."
Calandra's mother stroked a finger up and down her daughter's arm.
"There is a part of the magic that you have that is very, very dangerous." she said. "I wish that it wasn't, but it is. Your magic is very special. It's different than other people's magic."
Calandra looked up at her mother, wide eyed.
"Mummy's grandmother was a very powerful magical lady. She had a magical voice. Lots of people were, and still are, scared of that."
Calandra nodded and sat thinking.
"That's why Daddy doesn't want me to sing." she said.
Her mother nodded.
"So, if I promise not to sing, I can go to the school?" she asked hopefully.
Her mother laughed and squeezed her.
"Not exactly," she said, brushing Calandra's hair down. "It's more than that, love."