Memories of SIGAL

MARZELLE

My baby lay on the ground, eyes wide and unfocused.
My mind ran in different directions. Had she tried to kill herself? What happened?!
Calm down, Marzelle, I told myself as I rushed to her. I saw her chest heave softly, and felt relief. She's alive. "Vee, can you hear me?" She gave a weak nod. "Okay, come on. Get up." She shook her head. Very well. "Mom," she whispered, "I can't hear just you. I can hear everything...and it sounds like chaos." I wanted to know just how that was possible, but this clearly wasn't the time for that. What it was time for was "Is there something I can do to help?"
"Yes, there is. Talk to me. Say anything. Please."
I paused, confuzzled. Say anything? What should I say?
I glanced at her. Her brown eyes held a plea I heard before she said "Mom. Please."
"Um, okay..." How about why I came here in the first place? "Baby, I'm sorry I sent you to bed so early. I wasn't mad at you, I was just... stressed out, wait no, that's false, I was a bit stunned because you were a little more...you than usual. I'll explain later." When I stopped to look into her face, those eyes...I closed mine. Those eyes, they looked so marred by pain, pain I badly wanted to erase, but knew I couldn't. But more than that, they begged me to continue, so I did. "Yeah, so, the Exhibition...the date's not set, so Deidre and I have been getting ready, I more than she though, but no matter. When the weeklong festival of all things art is done, I'll have enough to get that place in Beverly Hills you talked about. It's been strenuous work, and the house gets more and more cramped, sorry about that..." I'd spoken for about forty five minutes after that, about the names of my paintbrushes and why I thought rolling on canvas in white paint was the best kind of priming, when she regained the strength to sit up, and throw herself on me in a hug. She did that a lot, hugging me from nowhere, and it was still a little odd after nine years.
"Thank you..."
"Not a problem. That's literally what I'm here for. But how did you get on the floor? And why precisely did you need me to talk so much?"
"Why precisely do you sound so formal? Who says 'why precisely' when talking to kids? Anyway, I was trying to wrap my head around... whatever happened earlier, then everything just got louder, like, tons louder, and it was so sudden it knocked me down. I could hear everything within a three mile radius. Still can, but it's subdued now." "Oh...Kay. Now for the me-talking-a-lot part." She did the hugging thing again, I stroked her head. "Yeah, that. Your voice works wonders."
"Does it, now?" I asked, amused. "Yes. Ever since that day...you said to focus on the sound of your voice, that's exactly what I've done. I'm so sorry you know this now, when it's... been going on...since I ate those berries..." She trailed off and winced, expecting a reprimand. Yeah, not now, I shrugged to her. I'm too busy being relieved that you're alive. She concluded. "That's why I needed you to say anything. It gave me something to focus on...." Her eyes suddenly lit up, dark brown stars deepset in a round face. "I have an idea." Vee yanked down one of my ears and susserated hurriedly. I narrowed my eyes, slowly nodding. "That's... actually not a bad idea, but back to our conversation. So how do you sleep?"
Vee's answer was simply "the headphones you gave me for my birthday." "And you didn't wear them tonight because..." "I didn't want to sleep. I was too angry and confused. Maybe that's why the noise got so loud. Magic does have a lot to do with emotion, right?" Stifling a yawn, she added, "I think I'm ready to sleep now though. You?"
A smirk split my lips. "9:20 on a Saturday? Hardly Ovidia's bedtime." "Maybe, but I'm bloomin' exhausted, so." Leaping to my feet, I helped her up. "So Vee, you bedding with me or...?" "Look, Mom, there is no way..." My face fell. "...I'm refusing that." I gave a small squeal, then handed her the black customised headphones, and somehow we lay back down on the floor. We were going to get back up, honest, but we had such a great time just giggling about nothing that we fell asleep there on her room floor, mother and daughter, with the daughter still in her day clothes.
Really though, who cared?

Sunday passed uneventful, and Monday arrived. With her middle school finals done, Ovidia all but panicked out loud over the days that followed: she sorted my paintbrushes according to size and colour, tidied up both our rooms, dusted and washed the frames, sorted the paintings filling the living room, did the dishes and prepared meals. (That was weird; she did the dishes like a pro, but she loathed cooking.) Still, it was when she made the infinitely genius decision to scrub the floors to remove paint stains I was going to repaint eventually that I knew something was up. I was awake by 4:00 a.m. placing final touches on my newest painting, The Contortion, when my baby girl showed up with cleaning supplies, got on all fours and began scrubbing. "Dovie," I said absently, "Relax. Quit the panic-cleaning already. It's gone on for four days." "How possible do you think that is, and...what did you call me?"
Oh, SNOWFLAKES.
"Can't I invent a new nickname for you?"
Vee arched an eyebrow.
"Ah, no matter. My point is, calm down. You're smart. You'll do great, okay?" Helping her up, I looked into her eyes. They held uncertainty. "Mom, are you sure?" "I'm as sure of it as I'm sure your name is Ovidia." Then her round, soft face broke into a smile. "Thanks, Mom."
We put away the cleaning supplies together. Stealing a side glance at her and sticking my tongue in my cheek, I muttered. "Good thing I didn't give you thid pep talk three days ago, or I wouldn't have had that tasty barbecue."
"Why, I oughta..."
"I love you!" I smiled sheepishly, batted my eyelashes and tapped her little nose. "It's 4:15, though, babe. You don't have school, so back to bed." "Yes, sure," she said. "The moment you tell me who Lady LaMartin is."
It took all my will not to choke. "She was a pretty good friend of mine and..." My ringtone, Pharell William's Happy, provided a welcome diversion. It was Dee. I gave Vee the shoo-hands before I picked up. "Why you up so early? Cool, now I wish I didn't ask. So why'd you call, aside from announcing your... activities?" I paused. "Oh my stars, are you serious?! When? That's BEAUTIFUL! Perfect! SQUEEE!" Another pause. "Yeah, yeah, you're just saying that because I squealed in your sensitive ears." I stuck out my tongue, fully aware she couldn't see me.
By the stars, Marzelle, you're like a child, I heard Strelitzia saying behind me. "I don't care," I retorted, sticking out my tongue at her too, and she disappeared in a puff of cold, blue vapor to...wherever ex-alter-egos go. "Of course! Thanks Dee!"
I resumed my painting, and soon Vee popped back into the main studio, eyes flickering. Wow, I mused, twelve seconds ago, she was trying to panic-clean her existence. "You squealed. What's the big news?" "You look excited about something too. Care to share?" "Not particularly...I'm kidding. It's actually two somethings. One, I've been ranked second best in the finals--"
"Awesome!" I ruffled her hair some. "Kinda saw it coming though."
"Also... MY MIDDLE SCHOOL GRADUATION IS ON 30TH JUNE!"
"OH MY STARS, THAT'S AMAZING!"
Oh my stars, that's TERRIBLE! The Exhibition...My lost look must have shown on my face, a side effect of losing Strelitzia. Vee wanted to know: "Mom, are you sure you're okay?" I gave a chuckle. "Of course I'm okay! June... enough time to hone your magic before the Realm, and your grade...simply wonderful." In a supremely clumsy, ill-timed move, I made to hug her. "I'm so proud of you, Ovidia."
"So... what's your good news?"
"My good news is...you exist in my life."
"That's... really sweet, Mom."
"Yeah, that. It's true too."
"I know it's true." She looked up at me. "I also know... that's not it."