starry eyes

TWENTY-TWO

"An act to discontinue, in such manner, and for such time as are therein mentioned, the landing and discharging, lading or shipping, of goods, wares, and merchandise, at the town, and within the harbour, of Boston, in the province of Massachusetts Bay, in North America..."

― Boston Port Act, passed March 31st, 1774

March 31st, 1774

I donned an impenetrable mask of incredulity as, line for line, my eyes swept across the preposterous text.

I was at a loss; I was irate.

Who does she think she is, this woman? What makes her so much better than myself that she feels she has not only the justification, but the right to penalize me- in addition to the entire city of Boston- in such a manner?

Through the shroud of white hot rage by which my vision was obscured, I could make it no further than halfway through the act being imposed upon me before I slammed it down on the table, overcome by peals of furibund laughter.

"Surely you're not serious?"

As cold and as distant as the likes of a stranger, Alice loomed across the table from me.

Her lips were as a skinny, pink scar marring her jaw, and there passed several heartbeats in which I wondered if she had any intentions of responding at all... Of course, when she finally did speak up, I wished with my entire being that she hadn't.

"What did you think was going to happen, Amelia?" Her voice rose just so above the cadence of a murmur that I was able to distinguish her own rage. Her anger was of the flat, stony caliber; the kind which necessitates no expression nor variation in pitch to come across as positively horrifying.

"Please," she said, placing her palms flat upon the table. "Please, do tell. Or did you even stop to consider that your actions, your stupid recklessness, might have had consequences for a change?"

"It was an attempt to make you listen!" I shot back, my anger of a much louder, more emotive distinction.

I hoisted myself to my feet, bristling in such a way that must have resembled a feral cat, poised and ready for a fight.

Alice didn't flinch; hardly moved, in fact, except to tilt her chin upward so as to meet my stare as she spoke. "Oh, I'm listening, Amelia. Everybody is listening. If nothing else, I promise you have made damn sure of that."

What is this great divide between us that prevents her from understanding my viewpoints, I wonder? What is it that makes us so utterly different that I feel I must destroy property and defame the very institution which binds us together in order to direct her attention?

I wondered this as I searched her countenance, elevated to such vehemence that, were I a less prideful woman, my eyes may have welled with tears.

"But you're not understanding... I- I don't even believe it's that you're not understanding! You're a lapdog, Alice!" I had drawn back, and began to gesture wildly as I spoke. "Unwilling to stand up to your king. And why? Why else but than that you are a coward! You fear a man of your own dominion more so than you care about the rights of my entire population!"

That was the point at which Alice seemed to decide she would take no more.

She jolted to her feet so violently that her chair went toppling to the wooden floorboards of my dining room. If it hadn't been for the barrier of the table between us, I feel certain in that she would have stricken me across the face.

"You have no rights!" she roared, tossing her hands up. "What is it that has you under this ludicrous notion that you have ever had any rights? You are my colony; my property! Your only purpose is to provide for the Kingdom of England, do you hear me? That is, and only ever has been, your only purpose! The sooner you get that through that dense head of yours, the sooner we can go back to living in peace, and we can put things like this Port Act in the past."

That was the point when I stormed out. It was either that, or break into vile tears where I stood, a satisfaction I would sooner burn in Hell than regale her with.

I can stand these living arrangements no longer! I must have her out of my home, otherwise sink into a madness from which I might never return.

I am leaving tonight to meet with Alfred. If he isn't already aware of this foolish "Boston Port Act," I must inform him. And, together, we must find way to keep Massachusetts from utter, economic upheaval.

I fear the worst to come, but must try to remain positive. Surely, in the face of our growing number of rebels, this will seem but a minor inconvenience; just another bump on an already perilous street.

One can only hope.

[ OKAY, I'm definitely not as proud of this one as I am chapter twenty-one, but I think I did alright. Thoughts? ]