Callahan: A Gothic Tale

Silencio Sisters and a Crescent Moon

17 Silencio Sisters and a Crescent Moon

"When a woman is both silent and smiling, you're in danger." -Truth No. 2, Ark & Co (Instagram)

9 am, Five Weeks In, Mid-Autumn 1994, Biochemistry Laboratory

Cora stood in the doorway once more, watching as Macy continued to pipet isinglass and agar into separate petri dishes to observe their reactions to various undisclosed elements, wondering what her motive was. This young woman was far too sharp to study, of all things, pre-formed gelatin. Sure, the substance had its practical uses but Cora would've fancied her a more innovative sort.

What a disappointment.

Maybe it wasn't the young scientist's fault. Her own hopes and dreams for her own daughter had been subconsciously superimposed upon the melanin-hued lady before her. Charity would've chosen genomic inventions, if she'd majored in biochemistry. She would've taken the scientific world asunder, with new-fangled developments by the year, with her brainy-yet-quick-thinking nature. Impetuous? Perhaps. Foolish? Never. As it were, her daughter's chosen path had been business school, much to the detriment of a certain Professor Aristide Kevinson...

Flashback, Mid-Autumn, Early 1980s, Seven Sisters College, Graduate School, Professor Kevinson's Office

Professor Aristide Kevinson was a young, smarmy masculine mustachioed sort, the type that derided women in business professions and the style of their writing. The one that continually rejected females from entering the high-brow esteemed professional societies for chronic overachievers. For reasons unknown, he had been in a particularly obnoxious mood as of late.

He heard a knock at the door. "Come in!" he called out as the student entered. Ugh, her again, his congenial expression transformed into a barely disguised grimace.

"Did you miss me, Aristide?" Charity swept in and sat on the cushioned leather armchair facing his desk.

"Absolutely not—" he retorted, annoyed at the lack of deference. "And must I remind you, in these hallowed halls my name is Professor—"

"Right, and my name's Fiona—" she laughed sarcastically, the professor's visage turning a deep puce.

"What do you want?" he hissed, glancing at the door to make sure it was still shut. "And that...dalliance...with your sister was simply that. And no more," ignoring Charity's seconds-long flash of anger sweeping across her visage before it regained its smooth glaciality once more.

"Well, since I'm here, I'd like to contest your decision to block my entrance to the Crest & Key Society."

"My decision's final, Charity."

"But why?"

"You're too assertive at all the wrong moments, have too much Bond-esque double agent finesse, but you also lack discretion—case in point, now. Truth be told," he finished as Charity silently fumed, breathing through her teeth, "you're not transparent enough. You'd be a terrible fit."

Charity rose from her seat. "If you don't let me in, Aristide, I swear to God I'll—"

"What?" His mirthless eyes fixed upon her seething form. "Tell the faculty about me and Fiona? Honestly, woman, it's her word or mine. And I'm an esteemed professor. It doesn't take a genius to figure out who they'll side with—"

Having heard enough, Charity stormed out of his office, nearly colliding with a passing student, causing her to drop her books all over. "Oh my—" she breathed. "I'm so, so, sorry—" Charity picked up the other student's books, handing them to her. "We're in the same Kevinson seminar together, aren't we?"