Separian - Book 1

Chapter 15

He never did answered my question.

I ended up spending the rest of my day in John's study. As the day lulled on and I rummaged through the bookcase, hoping to find some answers it rolled on to about 3:00pm without bearing fruit. Eventually the younger children came home one after the other, their own days coming to an end, and John excused himself to go upstairs. Amy had taken up her original seat again, but I couldn't seem to find comfort in the twin seat, made of tightly-stitched, mud-brown leather. So I stayed on my feet; pacing and resting against the bookshelf when I needed a change.

While investigating his library, I often came across a word I didn't recognize or a phrase referring to something I didn't understand. When that happened, I was forced to go searching for the next book that would answer my questions. Mostly the dictionary was satisfactory, so long as the word or phrase wasn't a reference to a theory or written work by some scholar. I'd been studying the history of alchemy for barely twenty minutes before I had a foot tall stack of books on John's work desk. At around 3:45pm, the last of the three children entered the house. I'd still yet to complete a single book I'd started.

Amy was still reading the same book she'd found just after entering the room, but found an excuse to chat with me when she clearly grew bored of the pages. Before long, her boredom manifested in repositioning herself five times, placing the book down to rest her eyes, and getting2 up to try and find something else to read. More than once. After a few minutes of searching, she settled for the book already in her hands. I could tell the only reason she remained in here was because of me. I was being watched, monitored. Probably her way of taking Myra's words seriously.

And speaking of which Myra was the last to arrive at the house. Around lunch time, she'd returned home, placed several bags down on the table, and then grabbed a different set of keys before heading back out. This time when she returned, everyone on the first floor, including John, left the house for a moment and came back in, the rustling of plastic shopping bags accompanying each of them. Several trips later, the front door closed again. The patter of the youngest one's feet entered the house just before John followed, closing the front door behind himself.

Amy excused herself from the room and left the book in her hands faced down on the seat. She hurried upstairs to greet her family I didn't have to guess why she'd left so suddenly. Her mother, I could hear, was talking to John, curious why he'd left the two of us down here alone. I doubted Amy could hear the conversation as clearly as I could, but she disappeared the moment the first of Myra's questions had been asked. I assumed she was able to read her mother as well as I could read my own.

"Do you think he'll wear these?" It appeared Myra had gone shopping for me against my request. "I figured he could use them to sleep in."

"I'm sure he'll wear whatever you bought for him, mom," Amy said, ruffling through the bags. "He doesn't really seem like the type to say 'no'." I couldn't have said it better myself. "Besides, even if he doesn't wear them, Simon can always grow into them."

There was a moment of silence as one of the sources of ruffling stopped and a set of shoes made their way out of the kitchen and up the stairs. Two other pairs followed after him, each one closing a door behind themselves once they'd reach the top floor.

"You shouldn't antagonize your brother." Myra moved on to the next bag. "This is going to be hard enough for him as it is without you bearing down on him like that."

"Well, when Simon decides to finally grow up and start acting his age, then maybe he won't have this problem!" She'd directed her last words up the stairs and to her younger brother.

"Amy, that's enough," Myra ordered.

"Yes, ma'am. But it's true." Amy went on. "There's nothing wrong with Sam. He seems pretty normal."