Post by Mimi on Sept 17, 2006 22:16:32 GMT -5
3.5 As Long As Your Prayers Are Coming True
“All my pretty ones?
Did you say all? O hell-kite! All?
What! All my pretty chickens and their dam
At one fell swoop?...
I cannot but remember such things were,
That were most precious to me.”
-- William Shakespeare, Macbeth
Amelia pranced; walking had long ago bored her imagination. Princesses must never walk as commoners do. They are beheld in a special admiration: Beautiful, always beautiful. She’d been reading of Princesses before bed. Princesses without parents, without siblings; this was their commonality. Walking in a circle in the center of the large room, she stopped and studied Raysa and Mira circumspectly.
“Why the inquisitive look?” Mira queried curiously. She recognized the unspoken question in Amelia’s eyes. It was time for her inquisition. She’d been putting it off since her arrival in Salem.
“I think it’s time we talked.” Amelia ventured maturely. She had never been accustomed to being, speaking as a child. She pranced toward the older women, bowing graciously before them before she took her seat at the wooden table in the suite’s dining area.
Mira placed her teacup on the porcelain saucer. Tipping her head toward Raysa, who excused herself from the room, she filled the cup in front of Amelia. “So…you want to talk child. You’ve been waiting to ask me some questions.” Mira told her omnisciently. She was unnerved by Amelia’s undaunted glare, her indigo gaze and amazed that she hadn’t known that this child was her own flesh and blood for nearly five years. She’d protected her naturally. She would protect any child, primarily because her child had been stolen away from her. Now Mira would share her part of Amelia’s history; she would finally reveal all the secrets she’d kept.
“Who is she?” Amelia said pulling the tattered photograph from her pocket. She fingered the picture tenderly, watching it lovingly while she waited for Mira to respond.
Mira looked her squarely in the face, seeing the admiration in her eyes; she reached forward and touched the photograph. “Where did you get this from? I haven’t seen it in ages.”
“The chest…it’s me Bah.” Her eyes widened. This gesture reminded Mira of Amelia’s mother, it always had. “Is this Mama?” She said slowly. The words were timid. Bogged down by emotion that Amelia hadn’t experienced before, she had never yearned for this portion of her life. How could she yearn for something she’d never had to begin with? “Bah.” She called out, breaking the silence. The moniker slipped from her southern tongue familiarly, instinctively; she’d given her a variation of grandmother and Mama through a finagled one-year old tongue.
“Amelia…this is your Mama.” Mira said solemnly.
Her reaction was painstakingly measured; she had known so anyhow. She pulled the photograph closer, lifting it to her face. “Mama?” She touched it again as if she were seeing it for the first time.
“Yes,” Mira mouthed, “she is your Mama. She is your Mama who loves you.”
Amelia furrowed her brow. “She does?” She asked hopefully.
“Of course she does Amelia. She just doesn’t know so honey. Come over here.” She opened her arms—those familiar loving arms—that Amelia had grown in. Mira pulled her onto her lap, pressing her head against her chest. “This is all sort of overwhelming…but I’m going to tell you everything that you need to know.” She had never believed in speaking immaturely to Amelia. “This picture was taken after you were born. She was so happy to have a little girl…especially a girl as wonderful as you.” Mira said remembering Amelia’s ruddy complexion after her birth. She’d been afraid that Amelia wouldn’t make it; the labor had progressed slowly over the day; and her mother had been so drained in parturition that pushing had ceased almost entirely. “You refused to come out. We begged you to come and meet us.”
Amelia chuckled at Mira’s recollection. “My Mama wanted to see me.”
“Yes…your Mama said ‘sweet baby Mama needs to see you’ and you listened. You came out immediately, slick and shiny. She snatched you into her arms and kissed your baldhead. You were the most beautiful baby I’d ever seen.”
“Bah...did Mama think I was beautiful.”
“Oh yes…yes your Mama said so.”
Amelia leaned forward to see Mira’s face. “She loved me. She thought I was pretty.” Grand notions even for a little girl; Amelia was transfixed by the idea that the beautiful woman in her dreams could love her. “She loves me.”
“She loves you,” Mira allowed squeezing Amelia.
“Bah why?”
“That my darling I have no answer for. I wish I could explain this to you in a way that makes it easier to understand. The best answer I can give you Amelia is that your Mama was sick. She just wasn’t herself. I know if she could have, she would have been there for you always.”
Amelia glanced over her shoulder, searching for the picture that she’d left on the table.
“Your Mama…her name is Marlena…and she lives here in Salem.”
“I know,” Amelia whispered. “She’s beautiful.”
Mira pulled the small child forward as she turned her around in her lap. She covered Amelia’s face between her hands. “How do you know? Have you seen her? Where have you seen her?”
“Here.”
“Honey tell Bah, tell me where you saw her. What did she say?”
“Marlena.” Amelia said quietly. “Marlena is her name...and we look alike Bah.”
Mira realized that whatever had transpired, Marlena was unaware of her connection to Amelia. “Did she see you?”
“Yes. In the airport…” her voice drifted off.
“The reason…”
“Am I going to live with her?”
The question saddened Mira, “Is that what you want?”
Amelia looked pensive. She looked up, securing her father’s steely gaze on Mira’s worried face. “Bah, I love you.”
“I know.”
“I didn’t know I had a Mama. I want to see her. I want to love you and see her.” She reasoned. “Can I love you and see her?”
“Amelia, you and I will always have one another. She’s your Mama…you’re allowed to love us both. Honey, there’s more to this besides your Mama. I have so much to tell you. But I’m not sure about the whole lot of it…I’m just as afraid as you are. We’re both finding people who we thought we’d lost.”
“Mama?”
“Yes,” Mira said thinking of her son. “Your Mama is someone I thought I had lost.”
“We did lose her…but she’s here. When will we see her?”
“I’m working on it honey.”
“Soon?” Amelia prodded Mira.
“As soon as it’s possible,” she said kissing Amelia’s cheek. “Everything will be as God intended it to be. All the pretty things of the world eventually find their way back to their origins.”
Amelia listened, confounded by Mira’s riddle. She looped her arms around Mira’s neck. “Bah…she’ll remember us again, won’t she?”
“Just as God intends it to be Amelia.”
“All my pretty ones?
Did you say all? O hell-kite! All?
What! All my pretty chickens and their dam
At one fell swoop?...
I cannot but remember such things were,
That were most precious to me.”
-- William Shakespeare, Macbeth
Amelia pranced; walking had long ago bored her imagination. Princesses must never walk as commoners do. They are beheld in a special admiration: Beautiful, always beautiful. She’d been reading of Princesses before bed. Princesses without parents, without siblings; this was their commonality. Walking in a circle in the center of the large room, she stopped and studied Raysa and Mira circumspectly.
“Why the inquisitive look?” Mira queried curiously. She recognized the unspoken question in Amelia’s eyes. It was time for her inquisition. She’d been putting it off since her arrival in Salem.
“I think it’s time we talked.” Amelia ventured maturely. She had never been accustomed to being, speaking as a child. She pranced toward the older women, bowing graciously before them before she took her seat at the wooden table in the suite’s dining area.
Mira placed her teacup on the porcelain saucer. Tipping her head toward Raysa, who excused herself from the room, she filled the cup in front of Amelia. “So…you want to talk child. You’ve been waiting to ask me some questions.” Mira told her omnisciently. She was unnerved by Amelia’s undaunted glare, her indigo gaze and amazed that she hadn’t known that this child was her own flesh and blood for nearly five years. She’d protected her naturally. She would protect any child, primarily because her child had been stolen away from her. Now Mira would share her part of Amelia’s history; she would finally reveal all the secrets she’d kept.
“Who is she?” Amelia said pulling the tattered photograph from her pocket. She fingered the picture tenderly, watching it lovingly while she waited for Mira to respond.
Mira looked her squarely in the face, seeing the admiration in her eyes; she reached forward and touched the photograph. “Where did you get this from? I haven’t seen it in ages.”
“The chest…it’s me Bah.” Her eyes widened. This gesture reminded Mira of Amelia’s mother, it always had. “Is this Mama?” She said slowly. The words were timid. Bogged down by emotion that Amelia hadn’t experienced before, she had never yearned for this portion of her life. How could she yearn for something she’d never had to begin with? “Bah.” She called out, breaking the silence. The moniker slipped from her southern tongue familiarly, instinctively; she’d given her a variation of grandmother and Mama through a finagled one-year old tongue.
“Amelia…this is your Mama.” Mira said solemnly.
Her reaction was painstakingly measured; she had known so anyhow. She pulled the photograph closer, lifting it to her face. “Mama?” She touched it again as if she were seeing it for the first time.
“Yes,” Mira mouthed, “she is your Mama. She is your Mama who loves you.”
Amelia furrowed her brow. “She does?” She asked hopefully.
“Of course she does Amelia. She just doesn’t know so honey. Come over here.” She opened her arms—those familiar loving arms—that Amelia had grown in. Mira pulled her onto her lap, pressing her head against her chest. “This is all sort of overwhelming…but I’m going to tell you everything that you need to know.” She had never believed in speaking immaturely to Amelia. “This picture was taken after you were born. She was so happy to have a little girl…especially a girl as wonderful as you.” Mira said remembering Amelia’s ruddy complexion after her birth. She’d been afraid that Amelia wouldn’t make it; the labor had progressed slowly over the day; and her mother had been so drained in parturition that pushing had ceased almost entirely. “You refused to come out. We begged you to come and meet us.”
Amelia chuckled at Mira’s recollection. “My Mama wanted to see me.”
“Yes…your Mama said ‘sweet baby Mama needs to see you’ and you listened. You came out immediately, slick and shiny. She snatched you into her arms and kissed your baldhead. You were the most beautiful baby I’d ever seen.”
“Bah...did Mama think I was beautiful.”
“Oh yes…yes your Mama said so.”
Amelia leaned forward to see Mira’s face. “She loved me. She thought I was pretty.” Grand notions even for a little girl; Amelia was transfixed by the idea that the beautiful woman in her dreams could love her. “She loves me.”
“She loves you,” Mira allowed squeezing Amelia.
“Bah why?”
“That my darling I have no answer for. I wish I could explain this to you in a way that makes it easier to understand. The best answer I can give you Amelia is that your Mama was sick. She just wasn’t herself. I know if she could have, she would have been there for you always.”
Amelia glanced over her shoulder, searching for the picture that she’d left on the table.
“Your Mama…her name is Marlena…and she lives here in Salem.”
“I know,” Amelia whispered. “She’s beautiful.”
Mira pulled the small child forward as she turned her around in her lap. She covered Amelia’s face between her hands. “How do you know? Have you seen her? Where have you seen her?”
“Here.”
“Honey tell Bah, tell me where you saw her. What did she say?”
“Marlena.” Amelia said quietly. “Marlena is her name...and we look alike Bah.”
Mira realized that whatever had transpired, Marlena was unaware of her connection to Amelia. “Did she see you?”
“Yes. In the airport…” her voice drifted off.
“The reason…”
“Am I going to live with her?”
The question saddened Mira, “Is that what you want?”
Amelia looked pensive. She looked up, securing her father’s steely gaze on Mira’s worried face. “Bah, I love you.”
“I know.”
“I didn’t know I had a Mama. I want to see her. I want to love you and see her.” She reasoned. “Can I love you and see her?”
“Amelia, you and I will always have one another. She’s your Mama…you’re allowed to love us both. Honey, there’s more to this besides your Mama. I have so much to tell you. But I’m not sure about the whole lot of it…I’m just as afraid as you are. We’re both finding people who we thought we’d lost.”
“Mama?”
“Yes,” Mira said thinking of her son. “Your Mama is someone I thought I had lost.”
“We did lose her…but she’s here. When will we see her?”
“I’m working on it honey.”
“Soon?” Amelia prodded Mira.
“As soon as it’s possible,” she said kissing Amelia’s cheek. “Everything will be as God intended it to be. All the pretty things of the world eventually find their way back to their origins.”
Amelia listened, confounded by Mira’s riddle. She looped her arms around Mira’s neck. “Bah…she’ll remember us again, won’t she?”
“Just as God intends it to be Amelia.”
