(no subject)
The promotion came as a surprise to Melora.
“You want me to be a manager?” she said the next morning.
“Melora, you’re the only one here who actually works hard, and your passion for film comes across to the customers. But unlike the rest of the staff, who work here for pocket money to go see movies and go bowling, you’re actually working to support yourself. I understand your arrangement with the Ashtons is only temporary?” her boss asked.
“Oh, yes, sir. I’m hoping to move out in the next month or two.”
“Which is why you’re working double shifts. If anyone deserves a promotion, it’s you. Besides, you’re here to stay-these kids will probably quit as soon as school starts again. I can afford a high turnover rate with the shelf-stockers, but not with managers,” said her boss.
Melora was further thrilled when she discovered that she would be getting Mondays off from now on. That means I can spend an extra day cleaning with Edward!
This didn’t mean she worked less hard. If anything, Melora worked harder, determined to prove her worth of her new responsibilities. Her boss admired her work ethic from a distance, and Melora thought, if only he knew how much of my time is spent ‘working’.
Over the next few days, Melora would go home to the Ashton’s to have supper. Many times she would enquire about any yard sales that they might be aware of, and before going to bed, Melora would check the newspapers for any mention of them. She got the address to the nearest thrift store, and promised herself that she would go that weekend.
It would be a Friday afternoon, on Melora’s lunch break, when Mike and a friend of his walked into the video store. Melora was still at her post behind the counter, and seeing Mike, she waved over to him. Mike didn’t turn around. “Hey, Mike, lookin’ for anything?” Melora raised her voice, thinking he just hadn’t seen her. He still didn’t turn around, becoming very focused on a particular video case. His friend turned around to look at Melora, and asked Mike something. Mike looked mortified when his friend left him to go and talk to Melora.
His hair was blond, and cut close to his scalp. His skin was very tan, and his eyes were very blue. He seemed straight out of a Tommy Hilfiger advertisement. He smiled at Melora.
“Hi. My name’s Brian.”
Of course it would be. Melora thought.
“You’re the girl who lives with Mike, right? I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Oh, I’m sure you have. “Yeah. Tales of the homeless insane? Charming I’m sure.”
Brian laughed. “So what brings you here? Do you go to school around here?”
“No. School’s not my thing. I just work here-the Ashtons were very kind to take me in,” said Melora.
“Where are you from originally?”
Oh no. Please don’t ask that question...Melora pleaded silently, and as he spoke she saw his palm, resting on the counter, begin to drip upwards like a flesh-lava lamp. Brian’s wheat colored hair drifted in the air and writhed, suddenly animated. The blue of his irises flowed out to the sides of his face like a stream, floating outwards in cornflower ribbons. His mouth opened, and a billion tiny stars fell out, spinning as they tumbled into an abyss over which Melora hovered. They wrapped themselves around her, singing to heaven and encompassing her vision with their golden light-----
“Hey, do you know where ‘Weird Science’ is? I can’t find it.” Mike said, and suddenly Melora found herself back behind the counter, with Brian looking at her expectantly and Mike looking embarrassed.
Melora rubbed her forehead and quickly led Mike to the movie, pointing it out on the bottom shelf of the science fiction section. Insane people don’t know they’re insane. Just remember that and you’ll do fine, Melorio, she thought as she checked the movie out for them. At this point, Melora was pretty sure she’d confirmed the homeless insane rumors about her (‘well, they are true, more or less, right?’) and didn’t expect Mike or Brian to stick around, but Brian held back.
“Hey, when’s your lunch break?” Brian asked, trying to act non-chalant and almost succeeding.
“Right now, actually. Why?” Melora said, craning her head back and studying Brian with suspicion.
“Mike and I were going to go to Dukylon Burger, wanna come?”
“I can’t spend my money that way. Sorry.” Melora said. She was suddenly relieved and disappointed at the same time.
“No problem. I can buy your lunch. Come on. Mike says you’ve been here a month and you haven’t made any friends your age.”
“How very charitable of Mike to say.” Melora rolled her eyes, but turned the sign on the door to say ‘out to lunch, be back in 15 min.’ and followed Mike and Brian out.
“So, Melora, when do you think you’ll move out?” Mike asked, squeezing ketchup onto his burger.
“Oh, believe me, nothing excites me more than the prospect of not having to deal with your thinly veiled contempt, Michael darling.” Brian laughed at this. Mike frowned, and quipped back,
“That’s not the sort of language I expect to hear from a homeless vagabond with no schooling.”
“If you ever actually spoke to me once in a while, you’d discover how cultivated I am. Besides, I never said I didn’t go to school. Right now it’s just not feasible for me to attend classes, I’ve more practical, immediate things to think about. And, you know, I also read a lot. For fun, can you imagine?” Melora scoffed.
“What kind of books do you like to read?” Brian asked.
“I like the romantics, mostly. Emily Bronte, Wuthering Heights, oh, and Byron, and Keats. Hahaha, ok, I’ll admit I love Poe-how’s that for fulfilling stereotypes?” Melora said, and then looked forlorn. “I had to leave all my books behind when I came here. Just the essentials...”
“I’ve heard of Wuthering Heights, and E.G. Poe of course, but those other people you mentioned don’t ring a bell.” Mike said. “I don’t think they make you read the Romantics unless you take a specific course in college on turn of the century lit.”
“And you, Mike, what do you like to read?” Melora asked, without a trace of sarcasm this time.
“Actually, once I started highschool and got into the honors programs, I lost the time I used to devote to reading. Now I’m just out of the habit; I wish I could motivate myself to read again, but I guess the TV is just so much easier to watch.” Mike looked a bit embarrassed. “I used to like reading Sherlock Holmes, though. Now once in a while I’ll read some modern stuff, when it’s short and to the point.”
“And you, Brian? What sort of books do you read?” asked Melora.
“Well,” Brian grinned sheepishly, “I’m more of a physical person-my parents never really pushed the reading issue with me. I’m trying for a sports scholarship in football. But I know a lot of people, like you for instance, who are really into reading, and I’d love to have someone pick out some books for me, see if I can get into it myself.”
“Yes, rise above your own jock stereotype!” Melora cried, “once I move out of the Ashton’s place, I’m going to have to get back into the habit of reading myself. I’ve been so busy raising the money and cleaning the place up for me to move in.”
“So you’re still going to move into the house on the hill?” Mike asked.
“I’ve already got my bedroom picked out. The place needs a lot of work, granted, but it’s absolutely perfect for me.”
“Maybe we could visit you once you move in?” Brian said.
Melora froze. My god, me and my big stupid mouth. There’s no way Edward would be happy about me entertaining friends up there. Damn; quick! Think up some plausible excuse!...oh no! I can’t think of one! Ok, time to pull out the crazy lady routine-
“Hahaha, you know, I’d love to, but I’m actually sort of a recluse. Even after I’ve cleaned the place up, I’m going to be painting nonstop in my free time, and I tend to get a little weird when I throw myself into my work. But maybe once in a while, I can come and visit you guys?”
Mike made a face. “As long as you wash the paint stains off your face.”
“You paint?” Brian was so sincere that Mike was having trouble suppressing his laughter. To think that his best friend, who was a total jock, normally, had a crush on this artsy intellectual weirdo loser.
“Well, I did, back when I had the time. I really miss being able to make art until four a.m. and not care about how I look the next day. But once I move in, you can bet that all my spare moments are going to be spent elbow deep in paint.” Melora winked at Mike, who looked like he was going to be sick. “Anyways, I have to be getting back. Us working people have to, you know, work.”
Melora was surprised to see Brian meet her again at the video store. “You know, I was serious. I’d really like to get into reading more. Maybe you could suggest something?” The look on his face was so earnest, it was hard for Melora not to find him just a little bit endearing.
“It might be a little too archaic for you, but maybe you should pick up a copy of ‘The Swiss Family Robinson’. I loved reading it, one of the first books I remember really getting into. It’s a survival adventure book, but it was written before people had a really good grasp on geography, so to us the land they end up in sounds more fictional than anything else.” Melora suggested.
“Huh. Okay, I’ll go by the library this weekend. Thanks, Melora, you’re a peach!” Brian said, waving to her as he left. Melora grinned, wondering just how unsubtle boys could be.
That weekend found Melora zooming off to the thrift store-a salvation army warehouse, which delighted Melora in its size. She had brought the dolly with her, and parked it on the side walk while inside she browsed.
By the end of the morning, Melora had bought out every single set of bed sheets, some throw rugs, two lamps, a TV and a VCR, both old but in good condition. She also bought a few cookbooks, a book on gardening, a stereo with its own subwoofer, and a small step ladder. This she piled onto the dolly, carefully making sure nothing would fall over. All in all, she’d spent eighty dollars, but it was money well spent (at least, in her opinion.) Making her way down the shopping center, she stopped in the grocery store. There she bought a bulk pack of toilet paper, and some hand soap. Melora went a little nuts with the dish soap, buying a sixteen pack. I’m going to need to scrub the last century of grime off the kitchen utensils before I eat on them! Melora was delighted to find that they sold seeds; and soon she had enough to start her own vegetable garden: tomatoes, carrots, bell peppers, squash, potatoes, lettuce, rhubarb, basil, thyme, rosemary, and mint. She also stocked up on canned goods, and this included canned corn, olives, peas, green beans, and soups. The bill was pretty big, but Melora had expected it to be, and she knew that she could afford it. She paid someone to courier it to the Ashton’s place, and then left for the house on the hill.
“Afternoon, Edward!” Melora said, raising her voice to echo off the walls as she pushed open the front door. “Miss me?”
Soon Edward appeared at the top of the stairs, and looked at Melora for a moment, as if she were a dream. “You came back.”
“Of course I did! You didn’t think I’d be gone forever, did you?” Melora beamed, but then suddenly her face fell. “...unless you didn’t want me to come back...”
Edward’s eyes widened, and he hurried down the stairs, albeit a little stiffly. As he stood before her, he shook his head. “I’m glad you’re here, Melora.”
“Oh,” Melora looked relieved, “thank goodness.” Then she became serious. “Edward, are you sure you’re ok with this? I mean to move in here, with you, before the end of the month. That’s pretty big, after only meeting me a week ago. You just say the word, and I’ll understand, and I’ll pack my things and go.”
Edward gazed down at Melora, his face a web of fine scars. How could he express the danger that was posed to her, living with him? Words never came easily to him. After thinking for a while, Melora patiently waiting for him to answer, he said to her with the utmost sincerity: “I don’t want to be alone.”
The look in Melora’s eyes stunned him, momentarily. “I know,” she said, “it is so hard to suffer time by one’s lonesome. Is there any creature beneath the sun who does not wish for congenial company? I understand what you mean, Edward.”
Then she smiled. “I’ll try not to get on your nerves, though.”
The rest of the afternoon and evening would be spent in each others company. Melora unloaded the dolly in the main room, and quickly went back to the Ashton’s to pick up the groceries. After that, Melora set to work on the kitchen.
“Good lord,” was all Melora could say when she opened the cabinets to examine the tupperware. Caked with dust, yes, but beneath that could be seen the finery of painted china, exquisitely formed blossoms and vines curling round the edges of porcelain saucers. All in all, there were eight dining sets, with matching cups, utensils, and bowls. Here was one set, the orbit of each cup and plate painted robins egg blue, and round the rims in gold filigree, while inside lay the snowiest white one could ever see. Another, in deepest midnight blue, with a tracery of silver plums nestled at the bottom of each plate and cup. Each were unique pieces of art, and all were inscribed with their creation dates: 1710-1783.
“These are originals. They’re not reproductions.” Melora said breathlessly. “Oh, Edward, these are so beautiful...and priceless.” For one moment, Edward wondered if she was thinking of selling them, but then she said: “there’s no way I can wash these in so dirty a sink!” She laughed then.
And so Melora began to fill the sink with water, and went to work lathering the center table with dish-soap. The kitchen was a combination of a scullery and pantry, really. Melora guessed the house was built sometime in the late 1880's, but it was still pretty old fashioned even for then. There were no counter tops, for one thing, all food would have to be prepared on the large center table, under which were stored all the silverware and such. In the corner was a large icebox, which would be much less convenient than a fridge, but Melora could get used to a lot of things. She used a hard-bristled brush to scrub the grime away, and all the while told Edward about her day, and all that she hoped to accomplish by the end of the weekend. Edward found himself listening, rapt, and for once daring to imagine what life could be like, living together with Melora. He couldn’t help but like her; everything to her was a challenge, a fun project, and there was always humor to be found with her. She had a sense of purpose, even when she had no one to help her (‘but you do help me,’ she would say, ‘you keep me company.’)
Though there were still stains here and there, they were deep set into the table, and wouldn’t really matter. Melora took out all the dishes, stacking them as carefully as one would stack butterfly wings, and scrubbed out all the dust from the cabinets. Then she took each plate, cup, bowl, or tureen and delicately washed them with dish soap and a soft cloth, not daring to use something as rough as a sponge.
This fascinated Edward. How long had it been since he’d seen a pair of living hands? Now he watched Melora’s deft fingers play over each piece, gently rinsing off the dust and inevitable dead insect or two. Her hands were soft, and now the undersides were pink with the cold water and manual work, but the tops were ivory white. Every imperfection seemed to Edward to be a beautiful declaration: I am unique. I am the only one with hands like these. In his time with the creator, Edward had been exposed to a few, very spare ideas about God. It had been the inventor’s concern that, should his creation learn too much of God, he would despair of ever becoming ‘human’ enough to attain an immortal soul. This did not concern Edward, finally----if experience was to be learnt from, the lesson was that he possessed eternity already; life until death, as the gorgons of Greek mythology would say.
Yet now, as Edward gazed upon these flesh and blood parts that he would never possess now, he gained a sort of insight into deity. With all their so-called ‘imperfections’, Melora’s hands were a testament to the infinite complexity found in nature, which for Edward would always be as close to God as he would ever get, receiving his sermons in his flower beds. These hands were not spun from silk and nickel filament, they were grown inside a woman, made from the earth as it were. And they were the first, and last, pair of hands to ever bear the unique web of whorls and triangles that made up her unique genetic print.
To Edward’s astonishment, he found himself envying the plate cradled so lovingly in Melora’s hands. Under their tender care, colors turned to their brilliant former glory, and everything sparkled like new. As soon as he realized this, he became confused. What absurdness, to envy a plate!
“...and I was thinking of finding a place to set down a vegetable garden. It’s hard work, keeping one, but in the end it will be so much cheaper, and thriftiness is my chief concern right now. I bought seeds already, and a book on gardening for beginners. It’s just the basics, you know, tomatoes, carrots, lettuce, that sort of thing. Oh, but I did buy some rhubarb. I make a mean rhubarb pie-you just wait, next summer, it’s all you’ll want to eat,” babbled Melora. As she spoke, she was aware of a glaring mystery-this house wasn’t stocked with any food. As far as she knew, Edward had no caretaker, and he never left the grounds. How did he eat? How did he do anything normal human beings do, with those things? He couldn’t even undo his own suit, did he even bathe? Oh, Melora would find out the secret to Edward, as much as she could at least, but no straight answers would come out of him, she knew that already. She would have to find some other way to unravel the mystery, and in the meantime, she was perfectly fine to assume that there was a logical explanation to it all.
After the plates, Melora tackled the silverware, laying it out on the table where Edward sat. Taking a cloth and the polishing cream, Melora polished the tarnish off each fork, knife, and spoon. The entire time, she continued to talk, and Edward smiled and nodded his head, and added his own brief input once in a while, or asked a question.
“I suppose I should go to the post office, to set up a mailbox. I can’t imagine anyone ever mailing something to me, but it could happen. I have to contact BGE, which reminds me, Edward, I know this house is pretty old, but is it equipped with outlets? Did the previous owners use electricity?” Edward nodded.
“Oh good. Whew. It costs thousands to get the electric company to come to your house and install the wires and outlets, I don’t know if I could have ever afforded it.” Melora said, buffing a spoon to glowing.
“I have to really consider things carefully, here. At what point should I move out of the Ashtons’s? I need to get the power back on before I move in, but I want to do that at the last possible moment, to avoid spending needlessly. I checked already, this house uses indoor plumbing, thank goodness, but I’ll still need to heat up water for the bathtub in the powder room. Hmm. Oh, and I’ll need to stock up on shampoo and soap.” Melora didn’t add that she would spend an evening in the upcoming week sewing her own re-usable sanitary napkins, since she knew how to do it and it would be a way to avoid spending tons of money on disposable ones every year.
“I wonder if I should consider saving up for a car? That would definitely be the long term investment of my life, and there’s no way I could afford car insurance. I can’t really think of a reason I would need one, save that it would be convenient for getting to work and the store, so maybe I’ll wait and see on that.”
Once Melora was done polishing the silverware, she rinsed it all in the sink, and sorted it into its new designated drawer. Next she brought out the pots and pans, which didn’t need polishing, but would need to be washed before cooked with. Melora noted that there was a large appliance in one corner-it was an iron stove to one side, with a compartment beneath to burn logs, and next to it an oven, also with a compartment to burn wood beneath. One more thing she would have to get used to.
The pots were on the larger side, as was typical for the era from which they came (1830's, Melora guessed), made so to accommodate the larger families back then. Melora found herself scrubbing the inside of a large cauldron which was sort of over kill, as far as size went, for just two people. Oh well. I suppose we’ll just have lots of leftovers.
“Hey, Edward, I realize I need to wash the window here, but could you tell me if you think that bit of earth right there outside would be a good place to start a veggies garden? It’d be the most convenient spot, after all.” Melora asked, craning her neck to see.
Edward got up and walked over to where she was standing, peering out into the untamed land behind the house. There was a scullery door leading right to it. As far as he could tell, it would be alright to plant there.
“It should be ok.” he said.
“Cool.” Melora said. “Now all I have to do is wash the rest of these pots, wipe down these windows, fill the ice box at some point, and mop the floor, and we’ll have ourselves a clean kitchen.” Edward smiled.
True to her word, by supper time Melora had finished the kitchen, and was situating the Turkish reproduction rugs around the main room. “Okay,” Melora said, straightening and wiping the sweat off her face, “the Ashtons are expecting me home for supper, but I’m coming back here afterwards. I might just sleep here, lord knows I’m not going to quit cleaning this place till my body literally gives out.”
Edward was at once unsure of this prospect. It was another first for him. Of course, Melora was safer than she could ever know from him, that wasn’t what he was worried about. It was simply a new concept, the idea that someone else would be sleeping in the house. Was this really ok?
“Uh, Edward, are you going to be okay here?” Melora interrupted his thoughts.
“Yes, Melora.” he replied quietly.
“But, I mean, do you have anything to eat at all? You must be hungry...”
It was then that Melora noticed the snip, snip sound again-Edward had been relatively quiet the whole day in that respect. It now brought sudden, glaring attention to his, for the lack of a better term, disfigurement, where before Melora had barely taken notice of it that day. She looked up into his face. There Melora saw a look of sadness, the kind that came only from being misunderstood, from being impossibly different from everyone else.
“I don’t need to.” Edward said softly, “I was made, not born like you.” The look of sadness only intensified then.
Melora was shocked. Well, there’s your straight answer...Yet, it seemed to make more sense than anything else she could have come up with, as impossible as it sounded.
“Oh Edward, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it.” Melora felt at a loss for words. What do you say to a person when they tell you they can’t eat because they’re not technically human?
“You don’t have to be.” Edward replied, the sadness gone for now.
“Well, please don’t think that this changes anything, really. You’re still my friend, ok?” Melora said firmly, looking Edward straight in the eye, wanting there to be no doubt in either person.
Edward gave a small smile. “Ok, Melora.”
“You want me to be a manager?” she said the next morning.
“Melora, you’re the only one here who actually works hard, and your passion for film comes across to the customers. But unlike the rest of the staff, who work here for pocket money to go see movies and go bowling, you’re actually working to support yourself. I understand your arrangement with the Ashtons is only temporary?” her boss asked.
“Oh, yes, sir. I’m hoping to move out in the next month or two.”
“Which is why you’re working double shifts. If anyone deserves a promotion, it’s you. Besides, you’re here to stay-these kids will probably quit as soon as school starts again. I can afford a high turnover rate with the shelf-stockers, but not with managers,” said her boss.
Melora was further thrilled when she discovered that she would be getting Mondays off from now on. That means I can spend an extra day cleaning with Edward!
This didn’t mean she worked less hard. If anything, Melora worked harder, determined to prove her worth of her new responsibilities. Her boss admired her work ethic from a distance, and Melora thought, if only he knew how much of my time is spent ‘working’.
Over the next few days, Melora would go home to the Ashton’s to have supper. Many times she would enquire about any yard sales that they might be aware of, and before going to bed, Melora would check the newspapers for any mention of them. She got the address to the nearest thrift store, and promised herself that she would go that weekend.
It would be a Friday afternoon, on Melora’s lunch break, when Mike and a friend of his walked into the video store. Melora was still at her post behind the counter, and seeing Mike, she waved over to him. Mike didn’t turn around. “Hey, Mike, lookin’ for anything?” Melora raised her voice, thinking he just hadn’t seen her. He still didn’t turn around, becoming very focused on a particular video case. His friend turned around to look at Melora, and asked Mike something. Mike looked mortified when his friend left him to go and talk to Melora.
His hair was blond, and cut close to his scalp. His skin was very tan, and his eyes were very blue. He seemed straight out of a Tommy Hilfiger advertisement. He smiled at Melora.
“Hi. My name’s Brian.”
Of course it would be. Melora thought.
“You’re the girl who lives with Mike, right? I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Oh, I’m sure you have. “Yeah. Tales of the homeless insane? Charming I’m sure.”
Brian laughed. “So what brings you here? Do you go to school around here?”
“No. School’s not my thing. I just work here-the Ashtons were very kind to take me in,” said Melora.
“Where are you from originally?”
Oh no. Please don’t ask that question...Melora pleaded silently, and as he spoke she saw his palm, resting on the counter, begin to drip upwards like a flesh-lava lamp. Brian’s wheat colored hair drifted in the air and writhed, suddenly animated. The blue of his irises flowed out to the sides of his face like a stream, floating outwards in cornflower ribbons. His mouth opened, and a billion tiny stars fell out, spinning as they tumbled into an abyss over which Melora hovered. They wrapped themselves around her, singing to heaven and encompassing her vision with their golden light-----
“Hey, do you know where ‘Weird Science’ is? I can’t find it.” Mike said, and suddenly Melora found herself back behind the counter, with Brian looking at her expectantly and Mike looking embarrassed.
Melora rubbed her forehead and quickly led Mike to the movie, pointing it out on the bottom shelf of the science fiction section. Insane people don’t know they’re insane. Just remember that and you’ll do fine, Melorio, she thought as she checked the movie out for them. At this point, Melora was pretty sure she’d confirmed the homeless insane rumors about her (‘well, they are true, more or less, right?’) and didn’t expect Mike or Brian to stick around, but Brian held back.
“Hey, when’s your lunch break?” Brian asked, trying to act non-chalant and almost succeeding.
“Right now, actually. Why?” Melora said, craning her head back and studying Brian with suspicion.
“Mike and I were going to go to Dukylon Burger, wanna come?”
“I can’t spend my money that way. Sorry.” Melora said. She was suddenly relieved and disappointed at the same time.
“No problem. I can buy your lunch. Come on. Mike says you’ve been here a month and you haven’t made any friends your age.”
“How very charitable of Mike to say.” Melora rolled her eyes, but turned the sign on the door to say ‘out to lunch, be back in 15 min.’ and followed Mike and Brian out.
“So, Melora, when do you think you’ll move out?” Mike asked, squeezing ketchup onto his burger.
“Oh, believe me, nothing excites me more than the prospect of not having to deal with your thinly veiled contempt, Michael darling.” Brian laughed at this. Mike frowned, and quipped back,
“That’s not the sort of language I expect to hear from a homeless vagabond with no schooling.”
“If you ever actually spoke to me once in a while, you’d discover how cultivated I am. Besides, I never said I didn’t go to school. Right now it’s just not feasible for me to attend classes, I’ve more practical, immediate things to think about. And, you know, I also read a lot. For fun, can you imagine?” Melora scoffed.
“What kind of books do you like to read?” Brian asked.
“I like the romantics, mostly. Emily Bronte, Wuthering Heights, oh, and Byron, and Keats. Hahaha, ok, I’ll admit I love Poe-how’s that for fulfilling stereotypes?” Melora said, and then looked forlorn. “I had to leave all my books behind when I came here. Just the essentials...”
“I’ve heard of Wuthering Heights, and E.G. Poe of course, but those other people you mentioned don’t ring a bell.” Mike said. “I don’t think they make you read the Romantics unless you take a specific course in college on turn of the century lit.”
“And you, Mike, what do you like to read?” Melora asked, without a trace of sarcasm this time.
“Actually, once I started highschool and got into the honors programs, I lost the time I used to devote to reading. Now I’m just out of the habit; I wish I could motivate myself to read again, but I guess the TV is just so much easier to watch.” Mike looked a bit embarrassed. “I used to like reading Sherlock Holmes, though. Now once in a while I’ll read some modern stuff, when it’s short and to the point.”
“And you, Brian? What sort of books do you read?” asked Melora.
“Well,” Brian grinned sheepishly, “I’m more of a physical person-my parents never really pushed the reading issue with me. I’m trying for a sports scholarship in football. But I know a lot of people, like you for instance, who are really into reading, and I’d love to have someone pick out some books for me, see if I can get into it myself.”
“Yes, rise above your own jock stereotype!” Melora cried, “once I move out of the Ashton’s place, I’m going to have to get back into the habit of reading myself. I’ve been so busy raising the money and cleaning the place up for me to move in.”
“So you’re still going to move into the house on the hill?” Mike asked.
“I’ve already got my bedroom picked out. The place needs a lot of work, granted, but it’s absolutely perfect for me.”
“Maybe we could visit you once you move in?” Brian said.
Melora froze. My god, me and my big stupid mouth. There’s no way Edward would be happy about me entertaining friends up there. Damn; quick! Think up some plausible excuse!...oh no! I can’t think of one! Ok, time to pull out the crazy lady routine-
“Hahaha, you know, I’d love to, but I’m actually sort of a recluse. Even after I’ve cleaned the place up, I’m going to be painting nonstop in my free time, and I tend to get a little weird when I throw myself into my work. But maybe once in a while, I can come and visit you guys?”
Mike made a face. “As long as you wash the paint stains off your face.”
“You paint?” Brian was so sincere that Mike was having trouble suppressing his laughter. To think that his best friend, who was a total jock, normally, had a crush on this artsy intellectual weirdo loser.
“Well, I did, back when I had the time. I really miss being able to make art until four a.m. and not care about how I look the next day. But once I move in, you can bet that all my spare moments are going to be spent elbow deep in paint.” Melora winked at Mike, who looked like he was going to be sick. “Anyways, I have to be getting back. Us working people have to, you know, work.”
Melora was surprised to see Brian meet her again at the video store. “You know, I was serious. I’d really like to get into reading more. Maybe you could suggest something?” The look on his face was so earnest, it was hard for Melora not to find him just a little bit endearing.
“It might be a little too archaic for you, but maybe you should pick up a copy of ‘The Swiss Family Robinson’. I loved reading it, one of the first books I remember really getting into. It’s a survival adventure book, but it was written before people had a really good grasp on geography, so to us the land they end up in sounds more fictional than anything else.” Melora suggested.
“Huh. Okay, I’ll go by the library this weekend. Thanks, Melora, you’re a peach!” Brian said, waving to her as he left. Melora grinned, wondering just how unsubtle boys could be.
That weekend found Melora zooming off to the thrift store-a salvation army warehouse, which delighted Melora in its size. She had brought the dolly with her, and parked it on the side walk while inside she browsed.
By the end of the morning, Melora had bought out every single set of bed sheets, some throw rugs, two lamps, a TV and a VCR, both old but in good condition. She also bought a few cookbooks, a book on gardening, a stereo with its own subwoofer, and a small step ladder. This she piled onto the dolly, carefully making sure nothing would fall over. All in all, she’d spent eighty dollars, but it was money well spent (at least, in her opinion.) Making her way down the shopping center, she stopped in the grocery store. There she bought a bulk pack of toilet paper, and some hand soap. Melora went a little nuts with the dish soap, buying a sixteen pack. I’m going to need to scrub the last century of grime off the kitchen utensils before I eat on them! Melora was delighted to find that they sold seeds; and soon she had enough to start her own vegetable garden: tomatoes, carrots, bell peppers, squash, potatoes, lettuce, rhubarb, basil, thyme, rosemary, and mint. She also stocked up on canned goods, and this included canned corn, olives, peas, green beans, and soups. The bill was pretty big, but Melora had expected it to be, and she knew that she could afford it. She paid someone to courier it to the Ashton’s place, and then left for the house on the hill.
“Afternoon, Edward!” Melora said, raising her voice to echo off the walls as she pushed open the front door. “Miss me?”
Soon Edward appeared at the top of the stairs, and looked at Melora for a moment, as if she were a dream. “You came back.”
“Of course I did! You didn’t think I’d be gone forever, did you?” Melora beamed, but then suddenly her face fell. “...unless you didn’t want me to come back...”
Edward’s eyes widened, and he hurried down the stairs, albeit a little stiffly. As he stood before her, he shook his head. “I’m glad you’re here, Melora.”
“Oh,” Melora looked relieved, “thank goodness.” Then she became serious. “Edward, are you sure you’re ok with this? I mean to move in here, with you, before the end of the month. That’s pretty big, after only meeting me a week ago. You just say the word, and I’ll understand, and I’ll pack my things and go.”
Edward gazed down at Melora, his face a web of fine scars. How could he express the danger that was posed to her, living with him? Words never came easily to him. After thinking for a while, Melora patiently waiting for him to answer, he said to her with the utmost sincerity: “I don’t want to be alone.”
The look in Melora’s eyes stunned him, momentarily. “I know,” she said, “it is so hard to suffer time by one’s lonesome. Is there any creature beneath the sun who does not wish for congenial company? I understand what you mean, Edward.”
Then she smiled. “I’ll try not to get on your nerves, though.”
The rest of the afternoon and evening would be spent in each others company. Melora unloaded the dolly in the main room, and quickly went back to the Ashton’s to pick up the groceries. After that, Melora set to work on the kitchen.
“Good lord,” was all Melora could say when she opened the cabinets to examine the tupperware. Caked with dust, yes, but beneath that could be seen the finery of painted china, exquisitely formed blossoms and vines curling round the edges of porcelain saucers. All in all, there were eight dining sets, with matching cups, utensils, and bowls. Here was one set, the orbit of each cup and plate painted robins egg blue, and round the rims in gold filigree, while inside lay the snowiest white one could ever see. Another, in deepest midnight blue, with a tracery of silver plums nestled at the bottom of each plate and cup. Each were unique pieces of art, and all were inscribed with their creation dates: 1710-1783.
“These are originals. They’re not reproductions.” Melora said breathlessly. “Oh, Edward, these are so beautiful...and priceless.” For one moment, Edward wondered if she was thinking of selling them, but then she said: “there’s no way I can wash these in so dirty a sink!” She laughed then.
And so Melora began to fill the sink with water, and went to work lathering the center table with dish-soap. The kitchen was a combination of a scullery and pantry, really. Melora guessed the house was built sometime in the late 1880's, but it was still pretty old fashioned even for then. There were no counter tops, for one thing, all food would have to be prepared on the large center table, under which were stored all the silverware and such. In the corner was a large icebox, which would be much less convenient than a fridge, but Melora could get used to a lot of things. She used a hard-bristled brush to scrub the grime away, and all the while told Edward about her day, and all that she hoped to accomplish by the end of the weekend. Edward found himself listening, rapt, and for once daring to imagine what life could be like, living together with Melora. He couldn’t help but like her; everything to her was a challenge, a fun project, and there was always humor to be found with her. She had a sense of purpose, even when she had no one to help her (‘but you do help me,’ she would say, ‘you keep me company.’)
Though there were still stains here and there, they were deep set into the table, and wouldn’t really matter. Melora took out all the dishes, stacking them as carefully as one would stack butterfly wings, and scrubbed out all the dust from the cabinets. Then she took each plate, cup, bowl, or tureen and delicately washed them with dish soap and a soft cloth, not daring to use something as rough as a sponge.
This fascinated Edward. How long had it been since he’d seen a pair of living hands? Now he watched Melora’s deft fingers play over each piece, gently rinsing off the dust and inevitable dead insect or two. Her hands were soft, and now the undersides were pink with the cold water and manual work, but the tops were ivory white. Every imperfection seemed to Edward to be a beautiful declaration: I am unique. I am the only one with hands like these. In his time with the creator, Edward had been exposed to a few, very spare ideas about God. It had been the inventor’s concern that, should his creation learn too much of God, he would despair of ever becoming ‘human’ enough to attain an immortal soul. This did not concern Edward, finally----if experience was to be learnt from, the lesson was that he possessed eternity already; life until death, as the gorgons of Greek mythology would say.
Yet now, as Edward gazed upon these flesh and blood parts that he would never possess now, he gained a sort of insight into deity. With all their so-called ‘imperfections’, Melora’s hands were a testament to the infinite complexity found in nature, which for Edward would always be as close to God as he would ever get, receiving his sermons in his flower beds. These hands were not spun from silk and nickel filament, they were grown inside a woman, made from the earth as it were. And they were the first, and last, pair of hands to ever bear the unique web of whorls and triangles that made up her unique genetic print.
To Edward’s astonishment, he found himself envying the plate cradled so lovingly in Melora’s hands. Under their tender care, colors turned to their brilliant former glory, and everything sparkled like new. As soon as he realized this, he became confused. What absurdness, to envy a plate!
“...and I was thinking of finding a place to set down a vegetable garden. It’s hard work, keeping one, but in the end it will be so much cheaper, and thriftiness is my chief concern right now. I bought seeds already, and a book on gardening for beginners. It’s just the basics, you know, tomatoes, carrots, lettuce, that sort of thing. Oh, but I did buy some rhubarb. I make a mean rhubarb pie-you just wait, next summer, it’s all you’ll want to eat,” babbled Melora. As she spoke, she was aware of a glaring mystery-this house wasn’t stocked with any food. As far as she knew, Edward had no caretaker, and he never left the grounds. How did he eat? How did he do anything normal human beings do, with those things? He couldn’t even undo his own suit, did he even bathe? Oh, Melora would find out the secret to Edward, as much as she could at least, but no straight answers would come out of him, she knew that already. She would have to find some other way to unravel the mystery, and in the meantime, she was perfectly fine to assume that there was a logical explanation to it all.
After the plates, Melora tackled the silverware, laying it out on the table where Edward sat. Taking a cloth and the polishing cream, Melora polished the tarnish off each fork, knife, and spoon. The entire time, she continued to talk, and Edward smiled and nodded his head, and added his own brief input once in a while, or asked a question.
“I suppose I should go to the post office, to set up a mailbox. I can’t imagine anyone ever mailing something to me, but it could happen. I have to contact BGE, which reminds me, Edward, I know this house is pretty old, but is it equipped with outlets? Did the previous owners use electricity?” Edward nodded.
“Oh good. Whew. It costs thousands to get the electric company to come to your house and install the wires and outlets, I don’t know if I could have ever afforded it.” Melora said, buffing a spoon to glowing.
“I have to really consider things carefully, here. At what point should I move out of the Ashtons’s? I need to get the power back on before I move in, but I want to do that at the last possible moment, to avoid spending needlessly. I checked already, this house uses indoor plumbing, thank goodness, but I’ll still need to heat up water for the bathtub in the powder room. Hmm. Oh, and I’ll need to stock up on shampoo and soap.” Melora didn’t add that she would spend an evening in the upcoming week sewing her own re-usable sanitary napkins, since she knew how to do it and it would be a way to avoid spending tons of money on disposable ones every year.
“I wonder if I should consider saving up for a car? That would definitely be the long term investment of my life, and there’s no way I could afford car insurance. I can’t really think of a reason I would need one, save that it would be convenient for getting to work and the store, so maybe I’ll wait and see on that.”
Once Melora was done polishing the silverware, she rinsed it all in the sink, and sorted it into its new designated drawer. Next she brought out the pots and pans, which didn’t need polishing, but would need to be washed before cooked with. Melora noted that there was a large appliance in one corner-it was an iron stove to one side, with a compartment beneath to burn logs, and next to it an oven, also with a compartment to burn wood beneath. One more thing she would have to get used to.
The pots were on the larger side, as was typical for the era from which they came (1830's, Melora guessed), made so to accommodate the larger families back then. Melora found herself scrubbing the inside of a large cauldron which was sort of over kill, as far as size went, for just two people. Oh well. I suppose we’ll just have lots of leftovers.
“Hey, Edward, I realize I need to wash the window here, but could you tell me if you think that bit of earth right there outside would be a good place to start a veggies garden? It’d be the most convenient spot, after all.” Melora asked, craning her neck to see.
Edward got up and walked over to where she was standing, peering out into the untamed land behind the house. There was a scullery door leading right to it. As far as he could tell, it would be alright to plant there.
“It should be ok.” he said.
“Cool.” Melora said. “Now all I have to do is wash the rest of these pots, wipe down these windows, fill the ice box at some point, and mop the floor, and we’ll have ourselves a clean kitchen.” Edward smiled.
True to her word, by supper time Melora had finished the kitchen, and was situating the Turkish reproduction rugs around the main room. “Okay,” Melora said, straightening and wiping the sweat off her face, “the Ashtons are expecting me home for supper, but I’m coming back here afterwards. I might just sleep here, lord knows I’m not going to quit cleaning this place till my body literally gives out.”
Edward was at once unsure of this prospect. It was another first for him. Of course, Melora was safer than she could ever know from him, that wasn’t what he was worried about. It was simply a new concept, the idea that someone else would be sleeping in the house. Was this really ok?
“Uh, Edward, are you going to be okay here?” Melora interrupted his thoughts.
“Yes, Melora.” he replied quietly.
“But, I mean, do you have anything to eat at all? You must be hungry...”
It was then that Melora noticed the snip, snip sound again-Edward had been relatively quiet the whole day in that respect. It now brought sudden, glaring attention to his, for the lack of a better term, disfigurement, where before Melora had barely taken notice of it that day. She looked up into his face. There Melora saw a look of sadness, the kind that came only from being misunderstood, from being impossibly different from everyone else.
“I don’t need to.” Edward said softly, “I was made, not born like you.” The look of sadness only intensified then.
Melora was shocked. Well, there’s your straight answer...Yet, it seemed to make more sense than anything else she could have come up with, as impossible as it sounded.
“Oh Edward, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it.” Melora felt at a loss for words. What do you say to a person when they tell you they can’t eat because they’re not technically human?
“You don’t have to be.” Edward replied, the sadness gone for now.
“Well, please don’t think that this changes anything, really. You’re still my friend, ok?” Melora said firmly, looking Edward straight in the eye, wanting there to be no doubt in either person.
Edward gave a small smile. “Ok, Melora.”