Four in the Attic, One in the Kitchen

Christmas

It was finally Christmas Day. I had asked Grandmother over and over, doing my hardest to please her, and she finally caved to allow me to see my siblings. She warned over and over that it would be a one-time deal, but I didn't even care, I was seeing the four individuals that I had hoped to see the most! The night before I had meticulously wrapped each gift fully, with paper bows and all. I didn't have a clue if Grandmother had gotten them anything. I doubted it. I knew Momma had a few things from the fleeting conversations we could manage. At seven sharp, Grandmother came to my room, ushering me upstairs quickly where Momma was waiting.

"Merry Christmas." I whispered quickly to her, which she responded to just as quick.

The door was unlocked, and we stepped inside just before the door was latched behind us. The room was, as I remembered, tiny, made even worse by the fact seven people were in it. Everything looked exactly the same, besides a few, tiny pieces of evidence that people lived there. Momma, however, had brought more gifts than I'd seen in a long time, and was already making quick work of spreading them out as my siblings eagerly tore them open. They barely noticed me, but Cory quickly ran into my arms.

"Cammie!" He shouted. "Where you been?"

I grinned, tears of happiness rushing in. "Oh honey I wish I was here! But you know I'm a big girl. Did you like all the letters I sent?"

He nodded. "Merry Christmas!"

I set him down, and handed him his gift. "Merry Christmas to you too, I missed you!"

He took it, and unwrapped meticulously. The moment his eyes contacted with the set, his grin grew, and he threw his arms around my waist in the biggest hug a four year old could muster. However, the toddler he was, his attention span was short, and he focused on his other gifts. Laughing, I distributed the others. Carrie was eager to draw, Cathy explained that there was a record player in the attic (to my relief) and that she would be happy to have something new to dance to, and Chris' eyes lit up at the new book. He had been dying for more reading material as always, and I mentally noted to get more books for his birthday. I was happy to see them all after the months. They were sickly, though. Their skin, as I had feared, was pale and even their hair seemed a softer shade. They were shades of grey, their clothes seeming too bright. The morning was nice, though. I had to leave at eight for Christmas breakfast, but not before they presented me with their tiny gifts, all gently crafted with paper or fabric scraps. The tears of joy spilled over, and I kissed them all a million times before I had to go. Who knew when I could see them again.

Grandmother ushered Momma and I out again, having us get breakfast and begin to get ready for the day. Fueled by my short visit, I was eager to see what the ball had in store. It began at seven in the evening, so I had more than enough time to ready myself. After lunch, I bathed in oils as Momma always had, getting a flowery halo of scent around me. Momma had even had some of the maids help me with hair and makeup. I looked strange in the mirror, rouge covering my cheeks, lips reddened, hair pulled into a tight bun. I had never worn so much makeup, even for homecoming dances. I welcomed the change, though. I felt mature, empowered by the feminine charm that I inherited from my mother, even if we had little resemblance. I was better able to see how she attracted men.

I was zipped into my dress at six thirty. It was powder blue, high necked, and was as regal as could be, much like a princess's. For the most part, it was tulle, down to the neat bow in front. Perhaps it was a little much, a little heavy, but if I was going to play the part of an orphaned daughter of two aristocrats moved in with her cousins, I damn well was going to dress it. It was my Cinderella moment, from servant to sweetheart, allowed one night of dancing and frivolity. My heart leaped at the idea of finding some boy to dance with, though I doubted anyone near my age would attend. The guests were my grandparent's friends, and they all were likely ancient. If 'anyone that was close to my age anyway, they'd likely be distant cousins, which, by the God-fearing interpretation of the Bible my family had adopted, so any dancing or flirting would be worse a sin than murder. I strode to the main hall, greeted by my mother in a fine gown, Grandmother in a dress almost similar to mine, though velvet, and to my surprise, she was pushing Grandfather around in a wheelchair.