|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Mon Mar 09, 2009 5:15 pm
||. Movie Night
"Maria, Maria! Say it loud and there's music playing. Say it soft and it's almost like praying."
Casia furrowed her brows at the screen and then looked over at Jane, sitting on the couch. The guardian looked over at the siren, gave one of her eyebrow quirks and offered the siren some popcorn, a rush of warm air following the fluffy kernels. Tentatively, the siren reached over and snatched a handful, pulling it back and popping the whole of it into her mouth.
The movie was doing strange things to her mind. She could feel her siren thoughts analyzing it, the Greystone girl that was so different from the Fairhaven girl she remembered quietly taking over in the dark room. Tony's face looked like a stunned pigeon. Why did men get so stupid about love? Why did people get so stupid about love?
Despite the thoughts, she felt her cheeks get warm, and it wasn't because of the popcorn. How much of her scorn, she wondered, was because of the stupid mythology books Jane had read her when she had first came? How much was because of the wings, the voice that was supposedly like an angel? How much of her scoffing at the boy on the screen who fell in love so quickly was lashing out at herself, at siren song, at her mental Anthemusa? She knew she didn't like having the mythological chains choking her voice, making her so worried about who she could sing in front of, who would understand. Being a siren was so hard! A thought from babyhood, one that had been drilled into her head.
"Girls here are free to have fun, she is in America now."
That was right. She wasn't in ancient Greece or on Anthemusa, she was here. Right here, right now, she shouldn't have the ghosts of the past following her. But they clung to her throat, to her wings, to her voice. And she hid in the 60's and wrapped herself in Beatles music, trying desperately to hide her inmost, sharp thoughts, the ones that had surfaced after she had been moved to another new home like cream on milk. How much of her was a monster? Was any of her a monster? She had never been raised to be a siren, she had been raised to be a person. She should be able to sing without worrying about what people thought of her, to be approached by a stranger without instantly trying to size them up and guess if they'd hurt her. Why couldn't she?
"She was only dancing."
"With an American."
Right. Humans had a tendency of letting her down, didn't they? She couldn't help but distrust them when they kept pushing her around. How did people expect her to smile and laugh and open up her heart to them when they hadn't done anything to deserve it? How did she know who to trust? It was like that Algorhythm said- There was no way to know whether people would let you down or not. It was like in the musical, sort of. All the hate and gangs, and then Tony and Maria. People were so opposite that it was impossible to predict them. All you could do was reach out and hope, and Casia seemed to always reach in the wrong direction when it really counted. Why couldn't she get it right? What made it so hard? Was it her singing? She didn't want to enchant people. She just wanted to know them. The siren buried her face in her knees, flapping her wings out like a shield. She couldn't bear to look at the screen any longer. She heard Jane turn on the light quickly, felt the guardian's hands alight gently on her shoulders. "Come on," Jane said softly. "It's okay." Casia shook her head, over and over again. "How do you know?" she murmured to her knees. Jane hesitated. Things had been going so well in the house lately, but seeing Casia like this reminded her that she was a hurt girl. "Well," she started, "You're not alone." Casia turned her head to the wall. "For now." The guardian smiled weakly. "I'm not going anywhere." The siren looked up at her. "How can I trust you?" she asked, the question that had been playing over and over in her mind lately. Jane got up and went over to a filing cabinet. She took out a piece of paper. "See this certificate? Words. I made a promise with words on paper about you. Do you think I would break that?" Casia snatched the paper and stared at it, shaking her head again. "No." she admitted. A different answer, and again it said something about the person who she had asked. Again, Casia wasn't sure what to think of it, or what her own answer was. The TV flickered and the parent picked up the remote to turn it off.
"I see you." said Maria.
"Oh Maria, see-"
"Let's go to bed." the guardian decided. The siren acquiesced, easing herself off the couch. No matter how bad people could sometimes seem, she had to remember that like all things, they had a good side. She couldn't let her Greystone thoughts win and make her bitter, and though she'd maybe never trust people as easily again, she wouldn't let herself hate them. Not ever.
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Mar 29, 2009 7:18 am
||.Epilogue-Bob Barker sez Whut?
Casia sat in her room, door closed and sulking. She stared at the ceiling and counted to ten in her head over and over again, but it didn't really help. The fact of the matter was Jane hadn't even given her a chance to explain. Didn't she like words? The siren found this painfully unfair, and she glanced around her nearly-finished room miserably. In one corner of the wall the paint was still thn and Anthemusa peeked out at her. She didn't turn away from it, but it wrenched open a piece of her mind, the anger that the strange new Casia brought every time she let her guard down. How stupid was this? A siren being punished by a mail carrier.
Something in her stomach writhed and she turned to lie on her other side. The thoughts hushed, but they were still there lurking, waiting for another opportunity to resurface. She felt them there and it was disconcerting. Wriggling, she got off the bed and leaned against it on the floor. It was okay, right? It had been worth a grounding to meet a nice blue meanie and she had a good time. But they hadn't even talked about being grounded, she hadn't been given a chance to defend herself. 60's oriented Casia frowned. She could let Jane get away with this or she could fight the Man.
Soon she was busy stripping the mattress to use as a landing cushion, curtains fluttering in the breeze from the open window. If she didn't stand up for her rights, who would?
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Apr 02, 2009 5:58 pm
||.Epilogue-And Tell Tchaikovsky the News
Casia walked home, tossing her book in the air with the concentration of a monk in meditation. There wasn't much to do but think on walks, and the siren had a lot to think about.
It had been groovy to meet Nataya again, but seeing the girl she hadn't seen for so long had made her even more painfully aware of how much she had changed. Even around Melchy and Keres she felt a little odd, knowing she wasn't the same as when she first met them and feeling like she couldn't let them know. It was bizarre, but she couldn't help but feel afraid deep at the bottom of her mind. She didn't think they'd hate her if she told them the truth when they asked 'how are you' but she didn't think they could relate, either. And that would just make the wall made by time taller, harder to scale. She wanted to hold onto them, she didn't want those pieces of her past to float away. If she acted more like she remembered she did around them, more cheerful charm and less wounded frankness like Merroth had pried out of her, maybe she could keep them close. She needed something to keep her sharp thoughts down, some motivation to stop herself from confusing her inner thoughts and her outer thoughts permanently. The best she could do, she supposed, was make Beatles sock puppets and hope that things got a little better. She still had healing to do yet, after all.
Casia was startled out of her thoughts as she missed her book and saw it land on the pavement. "Ah!" she cried, running to pick it up. The bookmark, she noticed dismally, had fallen out, but it was fine. In the book and with her friends, with effort she could find her place again.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Apr 03, 2009 9:22 pm
||. Think for yourself
"Lady Madonna, children at your feet, wonder how you manage to make ends meet..."
For once it wasn't the siren humming, but Jane, murmuring the lyrics absentmindedly along with the stereo as she organized her bills. She had winced when she had opened them, Casia's new room had definitely done some damage. But she had been living on her own for a while, and she had expected expenses with a child. Children were expensive, and she suspected mythological children were probably more so. They had higher expectations.
She heard Casia's wings rustle behind her, for once she and her new daughter were in the same room doing things that weren't television watching or eating. The siren was drawing, sitting in the middle of the living room with markers and paper. Between the two, the speakers crackled, providing Jane with the constant flow of words she needed to feel safe and providing Casia with the music she needed to be inspired. Neither spoke to or acknowledged the other, the siren wrapped up in a private fantasy and the guardian suffocated with depressing literature such as the state of her affairs. "Must be frugal." she noted. She couldn't let Casia keep wrapping her around her little finger. How many purchases did a young girl need to feel at home, anyway? Twelve Beatles records in one shopping trip, was that really necessary?
"Lady Madonna lying on the bed, listen to the music playing in your hea-a-ad..."
Apparently it was necessary for Casia, Jane thought wryly. The fact that the siren was so smitten with the Fab Four amused the amateur mythologist, the fact that a siren would be so charmed by such a suitable band. The Beatles possessed considerable power in their words, and she did like to see things work out neatly like that. She wondered if her previous parent, and here Jane flipped through the neat file folders of her memory, Annabel Fairhaven, yes, she wondered is this Annabel had introduced Casia to them for that reason. Whatever reason, it had been logical. Casia had in one fell swoop been introduced to the perfect role models for a growing siren. Who but The Beatles to teach a siren to enrapture?
"Tuesday afternoon is neverending..."
Shaking her head clear of Casia-related thoughts, Jane looked back at the papers she was trying to sort through again. Definitely had to cut back on the spending. It wasn't even like postal workers made that much money in the first place, and her job was not exactly secure in the age of technology. She did love words and she knew in her mind that the faster words could be exchanged, the better, but there was something about a letter that was just infinitely more satisfying than e-mail. It was the cracking of the envelope, the smell of parchment and ink. Technology was getting rid of one of the beauties of language, and Jane died a little inside to think of losing it. It was worth it to work at the post office, even if it meant the small house and the tight budget just to remember that small pleasure in life.
To her surprise, Casia came up to her, paper in hand, and presented the finished doodling for her approval. "It's not very good," she said, eyes lowered, and Jane realized why she was getting to see it. The tone of voice and facial expression were begging for compliments while trying very hard not to appear so. Anyone would do for that, even the new mom. Jane adjusted the paper for her, making a great show of examining it. On the page were four figures and music notes and... Blue, fat rabbit things. Well, the four figures were easy. The rabbits were perplexing, but the gist of it remained. But... Jane frowned. "Very nice." she told the girl. "What's your muse?"
Casia paused. "I just drew whatever was in my head." she admitted, trying not to sound too proud. Jane nodded slowly. "Nice, very well executed. But where's Casia?" The siren blinked. "What?" she asked, perplexed. "Where's Casia?" Jane repeated. "I see The Beatles all over this paper. Where's your muse, where's your personality?" She looked over at the girl critically and received a chilly look. The siren snatched back the paper, walking out of the room with a barely maintained calm. Jane wasn't playing the right role.
The guardian watched her leave for a moment before returning to her papers. Casia was acting simple. Jane hated to do it, but she was damned if she was going to sit and watch her daughter be taken in by her own trick and get seduced by music. The siren was going to have to learn to like The Beatles and think for herself at the same time, and she'd have to stop sulking and face it eventually.
"See how they run..."
Jane reached over to turn the CD off and switch to the news.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Apr 04, 2009 3:29 pm
||. All fading past
The thunder shook the night-draped sky and a rather bulky lump trembled under the comforter on Casia's bed. There was a storm raging outside, the siren was too terrified to move and too stubborn to call out to Jane. She bit her lip as a flash illuminated the room and buried her head in the pillow as the booming clap followed once more.
Reaching out with a trembling hand, she felt around on the floor for something soothing to listen to. She couldn't bring the record player under the blankets with her, but Jane had left other sound systems in her room. Anything with music, anything to drown out the beats that were too heavy to sing to that pealed in the sky.
As she groped, she felt her hand grasp the CD... thing that Jane had pushed on her while she was redecorating her room. The siren hadn't thought she would ever need to use it, had scoffed at the strange looking record player, but now she only felt glad she had something light enough to listen to from under the sheets. Shakily, she felt for the earphones, putting them over her ears where they were still a little big for her and almost slipped. Clutching them to her head, she turned it on. There was a record in it, but she didn't know what it was. She'd never used CDs before, why would she when she had perfectly good music available like Anna played it? Hesitating, she nearly took off the headphones but the thunder pealed again and she startled, writhing her wings and disturbing the blanket. Music, music now!
She felt around for the confusing buttons, looking for the one that would turn it on when pressed. Finally, she managed to coax guitar notes out of it as the song started. The siren let out a strangled noise of relief, shakily looking to turn up the volume. When it was loud enough to combat the thunder, she let her mind drift into the song, letting it hypnotize her. It wasn't the Beatles, it was unfamiliar territory and all Casia could do was hope it would take her somewhere pleasant.
"I built my house from barley rice,
Green pepper walls and water ice,
Tables of paper wood, windows of light.
And everything emptying into white..."
The huddled mass slowed her trembling as the soothing murmurs of the singer washed over her, let herself get pulled into the narrative. How strange it sounded! Calm and serene, but nothing made sense. Bizarre words, but it was beautiful, a house building itself in her mind, a nonsensical place to hide. A flash of lightning illuminated her world and she almost felt she could fade away too until the thunder pulled her back sharply and made her yelp. Clutching the headphones tighter, she pressed them against her head as if the closer they were the closer she would be to drifting into the dream vision.
"A simple garden, with acres of sky,
A brown-haired dogmouse
If one dropped by.
Yellow Delanie would sleep well at night,
With everything emptying into white..."
The siren's breathing slowed to calm, ragged sighs as the images poured into her mind, faster now than the thunder and the lightning flashes, her eyes closed to aid the illusion. Into white, past the fear, past the chaos. Mouth parted slightly, she whispered the lyrics after the singer crooned them, head nodding as she was lulled by the melody.
"A sad blue-eyed drummer rehearses outside,
A black spider dancing on top of his eye,
Red legged chicken stands ready to strike.
And everything emptying into white..."
Casia sighed, feeling herself fill up with the white mist, entering this dream story. The strange figures beckoned to her, and she would too gladly join them to escape. Forgetting about the storm, she lay down on the bed more easily.
"I built my house from barley rice,
Green pepper walls and water ice...
And everything emptying into white."
The last thing the siren saw was a flash of lightning, and then her world emptied into white, music still playing as she slept.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Apr 07, 2009 4:58 pm
||. Epilogue-She said she said
Casia sat in the back of Jane's car, watching the rain beat a pattern on the windows, her own private percussion to play behind the melody of her mind. She felt the woman's gaze on her every so often, flickering from the rearview mirror to the road and back again. The pounding wheels on the road and the sounds of the world made a quiet song that filled her head, dancing in the siren's ears as the car headed back to the house she was hesitant to call home.
Jane was playing her part the same way Casia was. In the video store the siren had seen her change, shift subtly from her role as Jane into her role as mother. She wasn't sure which part she liked better, but it had made the guardian seem more real. The woman was trying, and Casia felt a pang of guilt. She should be trying too, trying to reach past her siren thoughts like she had for Melchy, for Nataya and Keres. What would Anna think if she could see her daughter now?
Casia had lost track of the melody, but in the car she felt like she could feel the beats measuring the awkward relationship, like she could pick up the song if only she tried. She looked up at Jane, who was pointedly focusing on the road now that the siren had her gaze on her, and tried to create the harmony that was missing.
"Thanks." she said quietly.
Jane smiled at her in the mirror and kept on driving home.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Apr 14, 2009 6:07 pm
||. Epilogue-Vera Violetta
Casia stared at the television, watching one of Jane's many films. Remote dangling loosely in one hand, she watched the figures on the screen dance across a ballroom and her mouth absentmindedly picked up the strain of the music, humming her own vague undercurrents of melody.
Dancing. Dancing like they did in the movies. Her wings flapped slowly and she peered at the people closely. Had she really been learning that this afternoon? It didn't seem like something she would ever need to use, that sort of place was wildly incongruent with the little house Jane lived in.
The hero whispered something in the heroine's ear as they moved across the floor and she laughed. Casia paused it, freezing the woman's delighted smile and shaking her head to clear out the daydreams. Her, dance? Ridiculous. Everyone was so close together in that ballroom anyway, it was the sort of place where wings obviously wouldn't work and personal space would work even less. She had been so nervous when Carlisle had pulled her close to him that she had to remind herself to breathe, she remembered. How would she feel when there were dozens of other bodies pressed in tight around her?
But...
The siren glanced back at the still-flickering face of the woman on the screen. She seemed so happy to be there. Was it the waltzing? Was it some sort of dance floor magic, the feeling of the melody carrying into that meticulously structured dance that caused her lips to quirk upward and that musical laugh to come from her throat? She had a place when she was in that dance, a role she could call her own. Something that was certain for at least one song, a few moments when everything was plain and simple and everyone knew what to do.
Casia wanted nothing more than to feel that world, if only for moments. Reaching over slowly, she turned off the TV screen and went to look for Beatles records for her lesson on Friday. She could talk about it, maybe if she bribed Carlisle with singing or music or something, then she could find a place in that dance-world. Maybe if she put up with the nervousness, the learning, the closeness of another body, she too could steal a few moment of that structured peace for herself. It would be hard, but as the siren looked around her new room, in her new house, in her new life, she felt that one thing she could count on to stay the same would be worth the effort.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Apr 27, 2009 7:58 pm
||. Epilogue-What Goes On?
America.
The tune still played in Jane's head over and over again as she drove her route, the desperate duet haunting her. Every note clanged heavily in her mind, failure, failure, failure. Failure to protect the girl she had been entrusted with, failure to recognize what was and was not good for her, failure to use her words to do anything once she had a crisis on her hands.
Realizing Casia was a real girl hadn't been enough. Scaling back on the Greek Mythology hadn't been enough. She still wasn't picking up on the cues Casia gave her, and whether that was because she had lived on her own for so long or because her own mother had never been one for subtlety, she couldn't say. Casia hadn't wanted to go to Josh's house today. She just hadn't been able to pick up on it.
Furthermore, what had happened at Josh's house? It seemed like the stuff of cheesy television plots, something that the sensible postal worker had never expected to encounter in real life, like... Well, like 'magic'. Sirens, cat people, panda girls, all of this Jane had easily accepted up till now, it could be explained by science or legends. Sirens were easily viewed a species, not inexplicable phenomena occurring randomly in everyday circumstances. Magic had never been part of any deal. How was she supposed to handle it, to recognize it? Was she supposed to ban Casia from drinking kool aid?
A flutter from the backseat and Jane glanced at her sleeping daughter, buckled in securely. The siren had never roused from her rest, and sitting in the back seat, she looked so vulnerable. All her barriers and shields were mental, and when they crumbled and left her unconscious on the floor, she was revealed for what she really was- A slender little girl who shouldn't have had to sing to save her skin, who should be leading a happy, active life instead of sitting around a single postal worker's home watching musicals. Never mind the siren side, any human child would wilt in a lifestyle where the person that was supposed to be supporting them was hardly there.
But what was she supposed to do? Jane couldn't take extra time off any more than she could successfully fend off magic, she barely made enough money to make ends meet. She had thought long and hard about adopting a child, yes, but she had forgotten what children were like. She had expected a somber, miniature adult, and then she had received a siren and let her imagination run wild. She had tested Casia, tried to push her into the deep end too fast, and even after the mythology lessons stopped, she had still kept trying to push her. But if she didn't push her to be all she could be, she couldn't raise her, if she spent more time with her, she couldn't support her, and if she pushed too hard, she would break her.
For the first time in years, Jane Greystone didn't know what to do.
Another song came to mind, another America, and she sang softly, hands shaking as she gripped the steering wheel. "'Kathy, I'm lost,' I said, though I knew she was sleeping..." Braking in the nearest space, she rested her head on the steering wheel.
"...'I'm empty and aching and I don't know why.'
Counting the cars on the New Jersey Turnpike,
They've all gone to look for America."
She was no siren, but Jane's reedy voice twanged with the same desperate edge Casia's had been possessed by so recently. Everything with a motive, from singing with Josh to the mythology lessons, to the Beatles, Jane had been trying to raise Casia to act like a siren. She had been chasing a dream, a whispery, stereotypical image like the America in songs and stories.
She could try. She could keep going and raise Casia to be a siren. It had to be possible, and if she succeeded, she would be the mother of what could possibly be one of the most powerful masters of language in the world. A real, proper siren who could coat her words in honey and appeal to the minds of men with beckoning enlightenment. But if she failed, she wouldn't be the only one caught in the sickening crash. Casia would suffer too.
Or she could turn around, start raising Casia the best she could with what she could, teach the siren what she had learned about life, all the things that helped her to be Jane. Help her define herself and decide what she wanted to be on her own. If she abandoned all her goals for the girl, just tried to raise her to tell right from wrong and to express whatever she felt however she wanted, she might not end up with the traditional siren she intended, but she wouldn't be trapping Casia into a thousands of years old image.
The postal worker gave a shaky nod. No more magic, no more mythology, no more tests. She would raise Casia to be the best woman she could be, and if that wasn't enough, they could cross that bridge when they came to it.
Jane drove onwards. She'd finished the route, and now they were homeward bound.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri May 01, 2009 10:57 pm
||. Epilogue- Just to Dance With You
Since the incident at Josh's house, the awkward pauses and mistrustful silences had just gotten deeper at the Greystone residence.
Just when things had been getting better, bobbing tentatively from grody to cherry, there had been that hiccup, that horrible, uncertain moment where Jane had failed and all the things the siren didn't like about her had been thrown into sharp relief. What good was a guardian that didn't guard? Jane had been asking that question herself, and that was the reason that she had settled down to read when she got home. She had taken a book from the library, but soon discarded it as silly, al that nonsense about love potions and spells and concoctions. The idea that the Barton Public Library would have a working magical manual was ridiculous. If she was going to have to protect Casia from magic, she was clearly going to have to use good old common sense.
Speaking of common sense, she hoped that the siren had some of her own to use. Pushing the discarded volume aside with her feet as she lay on the couch, Jane raised an eyebrow at the remains of her old CD player. No jacket, no explanation, exploded CD player, whatever the siren had done after school made the mail carrier feel six shades of suspicious. Singing practice didn't fry things, unless Casia had been trying out her vocal abilities, which was something that definitely shouldn't be done in a public institution, and Jane wasn't even sure that siren voices could do that even if they went as loud and high as they could go. She glared at the CD player for a moment, as if challenging it to reveal its secrets, then grabbed it, pushing herself off the couch and walking over to the doorway to Casia's room. Knocking, she asked "Anyone home?" and in response there was a thump, then the door opened, siren looking at her furtively. She held up the remains of the technology. "What happened to this?" she asked as nonchalantly as possible. "You won't get punished, just tell me the truth." Whether Casia had done something wrong or not, Jane owed her a break. After all, the guardian herself had just dropped the ball on things recently.
Casia shrugged. "It just exploded." she informed Jane a tad smugly, as if to assert that she had known it would all along. "You can't trust all this new technology." She tried to shut the door, but the mail carrier's foot was firmly wedged in the crack. "Honestly?" she asked, looking down at her blonde haired ward. It was a hard story to believe, too easy an excuse. CD players didn't just explode. "Seriously!" Casia protested heatedly, trying to close the door some more. "Why would I explode your stuff?"
Jane removed her foot and the door slammed shut. She looked at it for a while and shrugged. It was just an old CD player, it wasn't like it had been anything hard to replace at least. But it could mean that Casia was frustrated, and there were healthier ways to let off steam. What the siren needed were some good influences, something to inspire her, something to distract her. What could widen a siren's world in a way that wasn't intrusive?
Jane went into the attic to look through the boxes of dusty records, flashlight in hand. She may not have been able to protect Casia from strange magic, but she could sure as anything introduce her to Simon and Garfunkel.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat May 09, 2009 10:33 pm
||. Epilogue- Morningtime Petals
Jane just blinked as Carlisle and his aunt left, but Casia was immediately agitated. He knew where she lived and had been inside and had seen Jane, and now they had scared them away somehow, and she hadn't gotten the chance to tell him to keep it a secret. The fact he had visited was bad enough. The fact he had seen the sad little birthday party was worse. He was probably going to, she didn't know, think she was weird or sad or something now, and they had a whole week until she would get a chance to tell him to zip it without danger of anyone else she knew listening in.
The fact she even felt the urge to make him shut up about it showed how much her life had changed. If it was Anna's house, she'd invite people over and they'd say how groovy it was, and something fun would be going on, something with music and colours and laughter, real laughter! Not skin disease talk and paranoia and a single sort-of friend. Even if she was in the mood to party, the siren would have found this depressing. She stood up in the midst of the halfhearted festivities, feeling sick. "I'm going to my room." she announced quietly, and beat feet, dashing into the little bedroom and shutting the door firmly before the mail carrier could stop her.
Without thinking, she threw a record onto the record player, one that had been played perhaps more often than she would admit, considering she knew precisely where it was without even thinking about it, and she collapsed on the bed, taking in deep breaths, trying to make things better, trying to stop the frustration growling in the pit of her stomach, the awful thoughts that couldn't stop dwelling on just how far she was from being cherry. She did the only thing she knew how to do to fight off the Greystone thoughts, trying to summon back the Casia that she was with Anna on the most important day of the year by singing along with the record and moving her fingers to count. Just counting to ten makes everything better, just holding on for ten more seconds...
"One, two, three, four, can I have a little more?
Five, six, seveneightnine-ten, I love you."
All the times she had counted to ten to try to stay cool, linking back to that one song from toddlerhood. The record player played and Casia counted, even after the number part was over, all through the song. She needed to feel a little more love, and counting to ten had always helped her before.
Footsteps from the hall and Casia balanced herself on her elbows, looking warily at it. She was locked in, Jane couldn't come inside or anything, but...
The handle was briefly wiggled, and then there was a long moment of silence, nothing but the ironic refrain of "All together now!" playing over and over from the record player as the strangers stood at an impasse on either side of the door. Then a sudden scraping, once, twice, and footsteps walking away. Casia waited for a moment, and when she was sure Jane was gone, scrambled over to look at the cause of the noise.
Her two birthday gifts were lying on the floor. Picking them up, she tore off the wrappings off the first one, looking mildly disappointed when she wasn't greeted with the smiling faces of the Beatles, but instead with new faces. Two of them, staring at her in black and white, and underneath in discreet letters, the words 'BOOKENDS/SIMON AND GARFUNKEL' Putting it aside, she reached for the other package, ripping into that one to find it Beatles-free as well. It had the same people on it as the first, and in slightly larger letters proclaimed 'Simon and Garfunkel Bridge Over Troubled Water'. Both had a musty smell to them, as if they had spent a long time in someone's attic. Personally, Casia suspected they had spent a long time in a very certain someone's attic, and she bit her lip doubtfully. Secondhand records she could have found with a little searching anyway. Groovy.
"All together now, all together now, all together now..."
She traced the faces with a finger. Turning one of the records over, to her surprise, she saw dense pencil scratchings on the back of the sleeve, and peered at the faded graphite carefully. Repeating the same things over and over, all down the back of the record like whoever had written it was in a trance, hypnotized by the phrase playing over and over in their head. They were written oddly, and Casia realized they were lyrics. Lyrics, quoted all down the back, by someone who maybe couldn't quite get her voice out with singing as well as she wanted, someone who needed to find a different way to communicate.
The pencil marks were deep, and in some points they had broken through the sleeve.
The siren fingered them and looked back up at the door, remembering how she had to sing when she didn't know what to say and looked back at the records, tracing the pencilled lyrics with her finger. As far as gifts went, they weren't extravagant, but there were more reasons for a gift than to spend money, and she thought of the scrap of paper under her pillow, the scrawled lyrical message in Anna's slapdash handwriting. Gingerly, she picked up both records and put them next to the record player, then went over to the door and walked out to eat cupcakes awkwardly with Jane before the balloons deflated. In her room, the Beatles ended their song with a few triumphant notes.
"All to-ge-ther nowwwww!"
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Jun 19, 2009 7:26 am
||. Plans
"Home again, home again, jiggety jog."
The words were nonsense, a filler for any real sentiment as the guardian and the siren came home from shopping, but to Casia at least they held a second, almost alarming meaning. As the year waxed summer, it marked the months it had been since she had arrived at Jane's house, the months that had eroded her memory and her determination and shaped this house into a home. She looked up at the small dwelling, arms straining under the weight of a canvas shopping bag while Jane fumbled for her key. Almost five months here, and in cabbage time that was an eternity.
But could she be angry with the cicadas chirping in the lazy summer sun? Even the siren with her stubborn disposition didn't have it in her to stay bummed about her situation forever. She glanced over at Jane, who looked back and let out an exclamation. "Got it!" Opening the door, the two tumbled in and trooped to the kitchen, gratefully dropping their bags and beginning to put things away. "What kind of smoothie do you want?" Jane asked offhandedly. To while away the hot evenings and give her daughter a treat when she was away, the postal worker had started to make big pitcherfuls of smoothies, but Casia's fruit choices were always the same. Still, Jane asked just in case, and her mouth quirked into a secret smile when the siren said "Something with strawberries."
The discordant whir of the blender cut into the cicadas soon enough, and Casia slid onto the couch, making a mountain out of her knees that required peering over every so often to make sure Jane was making her smoothie right. (Though the siren didn't know how to make smoothies beyond getting fruit, putting it in the right kitchen appliance, and waiting, she wanted the woman to know she'd SEE if she messed up.)
And then she became less and less motivated to left her head and eye Jane, and she laid back on the couch as the whir became a part of the music too, and the symphony of summer crept into Casia's world, the buzzing in the kitchen and outside melding to make one long humdrum, humdrum. No more fall's footsteps. Nothing to remind her of the past and Anna but her own self, clinging to the old days like a burr, afraid to let go but weakening each passing day. how long would it be before she was struggling to remember the way her old bedroom looked or how to get to Anna's kitchen from the second floor landing?
What if she let herself? She looked into the kitchen at her new life, the humdrum becoming comfortable, the poetry reciting and the awkward pauses and everything that made Jane who she was becoming more like home every day. If she let herself let go, closed that chapter of her life and launched into this new one with a flap of her wings, it wasn't as interesting but it was something, and not a bad something, despite everything that wasn't something Anna would do, that she had struggled against for so long.
Her eyes flickered over to Jane, pouring out a smoothie into a tall glass, and to the window, where life was in glorious motion. She could put it off until later, couldn't she? Her plan of action, the future, the past, all seemed insignificant in the moment. The heat and the smell of fresh fruit weakened her senses and beckoned her. Releasing her worries, the million and one problems that clung to her head like cobwebs, the siren let the moment wrap her up and take her away...
Away, to a place with strawberry smoothies, with Alan Ginsberg, and swing music on the radio, all mingling in the lazy summer air. There was a solution out there, sure as Paul was the walrus and Casia just had to open up her eyes and let it in.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Sep 27, 2009 9:31 pm
||. Epilogue- Dr. Robert
With a gasp, Casia emerged from her slumber, eyes darting around the room. There was something she had to remember, something important.
Something important...
Shaking her head from the fog her dreams had left behind, she collapsed back onto her pillow, head turning towards the nightstand with her light up alarm clock on it. 3 AM. Too early to be awake, but she felt too restless to get back to sleep. She had been having some strange dreams recently, some nights she'd wake up with a song in her head that was unfamiliar, which was alarming, considering how song was woven into the very fabric of her being. Music, or at least whatever force made creatures lift their voices and sing, was pulsing in her veins, and like pigment on paper, it seeped into her memory, painting strange silver threads she could pick out from the grey of the mundane.
Dreams were even trippier, a tangled mess of song and vague impressions of faces and phrases that vanished in moments. But the music, which was always, always, in her dreamscapes, lingered sometimes for hours. But for nights now, or rather, since she had come to the Greystone residence, the music she could recall had bizarre undertones. It made for some restless fits of sleep, but the worst by far were times like these, when there was an errant, foreign note that woke her up in a cold sweat. It didn't happen often, but when it did it lent terror to her mornings until reason made her feel zenlike again. It left her feeling strange, sort of funny and sad and vulnerable all at once, that just an off note in a dream-melody could throw her off kilter. But music was how Casia's mind organized itself, and something discordant was alarming in a way she couldn't quite describe or place.
Since it was clear she wasn't going to get back to sleep, she opted to read instead, reaching over for one of the many books scattered around the household. However, her mind was unfocused as she scanned the pages, and after rereading a passage three times, she put it down. There was something else wrong tonight, something strange. Looking cautiously up at where Jane's room was, the siren slid under her sheets to muffle herself before opening her mouth and trying to sing the melody in her head.
There, there was the odd note, but tonight it sounded almost in harmony with the rest of the song. She furrowed her eyebrows and surfaced from the sea of blankets, resting her head on her pillow once more. She thought tonight was different, and it was. The note had become something that fit but didn't fit, and Casia wasn't quite sure what to make of it. Not grody, not groovy, familiar but still foreign.
Whatever it was that had changed, she decided, she couldn't puzzle it out quite yet. She'd wait for the morning to give it another go, and by morning, she meant after the sun rose. Humming the melody quietly to herself so as not to forget, she picked up the book she had discarded earlier and waited for daybreak and breakfast.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Jan 15, 2011 2:57 am
January.
Casia's cheek was pressed against the cool kitchen counter as Jane prepared breakfast. She was staring out the window at the fitful January snowdrifts, thinking about a few things, but mostly that here she was, and another year had escaped her since coming to Jane's house. By now, the thought was slow to come. On the first year, it had been in her mind since December, but here it was, mid-January, and she had just now realized how long it had actually been. It was sort of grody and alarming, how quickly her mind moved on. Sort of like a betrayal, she supposed, sighing into the marble-pattern.
"Bacon's done," Jane announced next to her. "Casia, you should really stand up properly." Her eyebrow was quirked in amusement, but she knew what month it was as well as Casia, and what that month meant for them. And as well as Jane considered it a landmark, she knew Casia probably considered it a tragedy. "Let's go out and do something this week," she offered as compensation, reaching over her daughter to get plates and set the table for breakfast. "Could be fun."
"We're broke," Casia reminded her, not moving her head from the counter.
"Not broke," Jane amended, "Just a little fiscally challenged. We can still do something besides rest our heads on non-headrest objects and watch musicals until our brains turn to mush."
"Hngh." Casia replied.
"Use your words." Jane admonished gently. Januaries were tough times for Casia, she knew, but though that could be an excuse for bad posture, it was no excuse for bad grammar.
Getting up and mentally counting to ten, Casia turned around and threw her hands in the air in defeat. "Okay! Let's do something. Nothing postal, though."
Jane grinned. "Wouldn't dream of it. What tickles your fancy, then? Can't be too expensive, but that doesn't mean it can't be fun." Casia shrugged as she sat down to eat, but Jane pressed her further. "Come on, nothing? Nothing you've even sort-of wanted to do a little? You spend all that time in the music room at school, and you spend the rest of it at home, you know, you really should get out more, Casia. You're a stay at home sire-" Casia shot her a look. Siren-talk was banished after the incident with Josh.
"Right. So, what do you want to do?"
Casia bit her lip. This was an opportunity Jane didn't often offer her, so she should make the best of it, she supposed. It showed that Jane cared, in her own way, and that was something. She didn't know what, but it was something. Her loyalty was valuable, at least. "Um, we could always go shopping," she said aloud. She didn't really know what else to do, but at the very least, she could get a few new dresses.
"Shopping and bowling?" Jane pressed.
"Shopping and bowling," Casia conceded. They bowled in Across the Universe, in that one scene, and Casia wasn't sure how much she liked the movie, but the bowling had looked fun. "Can we afford that?"
Jane shrugged. "Doesn't matter. That's what we're doing this weekend."
Casia shrugged in return, and bit her lips to stop herself from smiling into her bacon. She had something to do this weekend, and that was hardly something she could say of every weekend, or even most weekends. Jane didn't offer, not ever usually, and Casia wasn't motivated to do anything much by her own power. She was stuck in a rut, she knew, but there wasn't much the Siren could do about it but wait to roll out again. She had been stuck in this rut since coming to Jane's house, and though she was nearly clear of it, it was still there. At any rate, January still wasn't golden, but the morning was at least improved, and in January, she'd take what she could get.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Reply
