(no subject)
Do you want to feel how it feels?
Do you want to know that it doesn't hurt me?
Do you want to hear about the deal that I'm making?
You, it's you and me.
You don't want to hurt me,
But see how deep the bullet lies.
Unaware I'm tearing you asunder.
Ooh, there is thunder in our hearts.
Is there so much hate for the ones we love?
Tell me, we both matter, don't we?
You, it's you and me.
It's you and me won't be unhappy.
And if I only could,
I'd make a deal with God,
And I'd get him to swap our places,
Be running up that road,
Be running up that hill,
Be running up that building,
Say, if I only could, oh...”
Kate Bush, “Running Up that Hill” (See also Faith and the Muse’s version)'>
That morning, Melora decided it would be best if she went down and had breakfast with the Ashtons, so as not to worry them. When she arrived, Mike seemed a little surprised to see her wearing her old clothes, but Mr. and Mrs. Ashton just were glad that she was alright. Around the table, Melora told them of her progress, leaving out any details of Edward of course. The Ashtons were impressed with Melora’s hard work, and asked her if she’d be having a cookout to celebrate her moving in.
“A cookout?” Melora looked a little incredulous, “I don’t think so. I’m not really...uh, I mean, I don’t really know anybody in the neighborhood.”
The Ashtons talked amongst themselves on this, but Melora didn’t stay to hear the rest. Finishing her breakfast quickly, she asked if she could see the phone book. Flipping to the electrical services, Melora made short work of calling up BGE and setting up power to the house. They offered to send a serviceman to check to outlets and the fuse box, but Melora assured them that it was not necessary. Hanging up, Melora felt a rush of excitement-electricity at last!
She decided that a trip to the salvation army and Jo-Anne’s fabrics was in order. The day was hot and muggy from the night’s rain, and Melora enjoyed riding her scooter through the puddles in the sidewalk. Life will truly be a carefree thing when I move in with Edward.
Once at the Salvation Army, Melora parked her scooter and dismounted. She was about to enter when she heard agitated voices behind her. Turning around. Melora saw across the street about three boys and a girl. The girl was tall, with long red hair and a fair complexion. She was clutching library books in one arm, in the other she held a grocery bag. She was upset; Melora could see that the boys were taunting her. Melora paused at her scooter, watching the scene, wondering if she should intervene. It’s not my fight. I shouldn’t get involved with these people too much. Melora thought. Before she could turn back around, however, Melora saw one of the boys reach out and shove the girl’s books out of her arm. The books fell on the wet sidewalk, and Melora could see the girl was red faced and trying very hard not to cry as she bent down to retrieve them. It was when Melora saw the boys kicking the library books out of reach that she abandoned her resolve not to involve herself, and with a kick was sailing towards them on her scooter.
Perhaps one of the boys saw her coming, the other two too absorbed in taunting the girl on the ground. Melora wheeled up to the side of the girl and leveled her eyes at the three. “That is quite enough, I think,” Melora said sternly.
“What are you going to do about it, huh?” One of the boys said. Melora calculated that he was perhaps a Junior in highschool, like his friends. “The new freak comes to rescue the old freak, how touching.”
“Oh, how very big of you-three boys against a girl with her hands full.” Melora spat, “I suppose next you’ll be picking on old ladies with walkers.”
“Paula’s a freak-ain’t you, Paula?” Paula was scrambling to gather her muddy books to herself. As she left hurriedly, the boys began shouting taunts over Melora’s shoulder: “Fucking dyke!” “Stupid lesbo!”
“Now listen up!” Melora shouted loudly, the vein in her forehead showing, “next time I see you picking on her, or any other girl who’s minding her own business, I’ll give you what you’ve got coming!”
This seemed too much for them, so one of the boys stepped close to Melora, “I think you’d better stay out of our way-” he gave Melora a little push on her shoulder, and she rolled her eyes at this gorilla like display “-or you’ll get what’s coming to you.”
“I think you may be right...” Melora suddenly said thoughtfully, “I think I will get what’s coming to me-namely, I’m going to get all your girlfriends together, and I’m going to make them forget they ever loved a man better than a woman, a hundred times a night, all day and on weekdays too! Paula can help if she wants.”
This was not what any of them had expected to hear, and they all made disgusted faces, some unsure of what to say to this. Finally the boy in front of Melora stepped down and spat a big glob of snot at her feet. “You’re fucking sick, you know that?”
“That’s me!” Melora said gaily, “charmed, I’m sure.” Knowing it was best not to stay any longer, Melora mounted her scooter and pivoted around, shooting them a dark look before making her way over to Paula, who was walking away fast.
“Well, that was stupid.” Melora muttered, “nothing good will come out of that, that’s for sure...”
“You didn’t have to do that.” Paula said angrily, trying to outwalk the girl on the scooter beside her, “I don’t need any goddamned lesbians helping me.”
“I’m not, actually. My mistake, I thought those boys were at least being honest about that part.”
“You’re not a lesbian?” Paula stopped, “then why did you-”
Melora began to laugh. “Oh, Paula, I didn’t know you suburban folk believe anything they’re told! Would you believe me if I told you I was a witch, too?”
“I might.” Paula said begrudgingly, “coming here looking like something from a carnival, and not telling anybody where you come from, and then going up there to live. Sounds like a likely candidate for anything to be believed, in my opinion.”
“Well, I’m not. I’m just a girl who makes her own luck, and I don’t mind sleeping in a beautiful mansion if no one else be living there at the same time. And I don’t like seeing girls being picked on by people for no reason, no matter who they like to kiss behind closed doors.” Melora parked her scooter once more by the Salvation Army, and called out to Paula, “Hey, if anybody picks on you again, stand up for yourself next time! No body’s got the right to make your life miserable when you didn’t do nothin to nobody.”
Paula looked unsure as to what to do. Finally she simply nodded, and went her own way.
Melora went about her business, but she couldn’t help but feel troubled. She was getting involved in these people’s lives, first with Brian and now with Paula, when in truth she didn’t want to be a part of their circle at all. Melora tried to shake this feeling from herself, especially when she saw that there was not one, but three down comforters on sale, and a cheap electric fan to keep Melora cool during the hot summer months. Piling these into her cart, she also picked out several large sitting pillows. These were of all different materials, some in dupione silk, others in velvet, and a few brocade ones as well. None of them matched, many had tears and moth-holes, but Melora didn’t care. She couldn’t really imagine who might have donated them, they certainly didn’t fit the ultra-modern ultra-kitchy sensibilities of suburbia.
Melora wheeled her cart into line, shifting from foot to foot as the woman in front of her heaped her loot onto the counter.
“You’re the girl who lives with the Ashtons, right?”
Melora turned her head to look behind her. The boy who stood behind her was skinny, dark haired, and wore clothes that fit badly. He seemed a bit younger than herself, perhaps a freshman or a sophomore in highschool.
“Yeah, what do you know about it?” Melora was getting tired of everyone recognizing her.
“My parents live next door. I’d seen you playing with Margo a while back, you know, dressed like Indians. Oh, and you go past our house on your way to work. Name’s Eric.”
Melora felt a mite relieved; after all, neighbors noticing each other wasn’t too strange. “I guess then that you’ve heard about how I’m moving?”
The boy nodded. “People have been talking about it; it’s hard to hide when people see you wheeling a dolly full of stuff to the foot of the hill.”
“So what’s so gossip-worthy about a girl living there?” Melora asked.
Eric shrugged. “Nobody’s allowed to go near that place. Most people don’t even talk about it. Then you show up, hardly saying a word to anybody but the Ashtons, and you start moving in like it was always yours to begin with! It makes people nervous, it makes the old people edgy and the young people are starting to wonder why we even have the rules at all.” Eric’s tone wasn’t accusatory; he spoke as if he were counted among those young people.
“But does anyone know why they aren’t allowed to go up there?” Melora knew she was treading dangerous waters; should anyone actually remember that a boy was killed up there, they would no doubt also remember the wondrous machine-man who killed him. Her hope was that no one would remember, that it would be one of those unquestioned taboos of society.
“My parents say that the house is too old, it would be dangerous to go exploring. A friend of mine got caught one night sneaking out to go climb the driveway, years ago, and his dad must have put him in some new sort of circle of hell as punishment, because he never ever so much looked at the place afterwards.” Eric seemed disturbed. Melora was suddenly aware that several people in line were staring at them. “Anyways, we all sort of pretended that house wasn’t there, most of the time.”
As Melora moved forward to put her blankets and pillows on the counter, Eric leaned forwards just a tad. “But now that you’re living there, and you seem to come out all right, we’re all wondering just what it’s like up there. How bad can it be? Is it really so dangerous?”
It was then that Melora turned to look him straight in the eye. Time to turn on crazy homeless person mode... “Your parents were right to tell you to stay away. It is dangerous. If I go in that house and no one ever sees me again, it won’t be anybody’s loss.” Melora didn’t actually want to scare the kid, but at the same time she didn’t want anyone thinking they had any right to bother her and Edward now. “Listen to your parents. I live alone; whatever you do, whatever you hear, keep away, keep away...” Melora drifted out of the store, blankets in tow, fluttering past dreamily. She knew everyone at the counter had heard her. She hoped it was for the best; Eric seemed creeped out enough.
Melora made her way silently to Jo Anne’s Fabrics, keeping her head down and not looking at anyone. She didn’t want to talk to anyone besides Edward today.
Inside, Melora did an initial sweep of the store. Mostly it was older women, mothers, and one or two very small children in tow. The door behind her clacked shut, and many of them turned around to look at her. Their gazes lingered a bit longer than they should have, but Melora moved right into the aisles, avoiding eye contact. The store was very quiet, with only a cough or a sneeze to puncture the silence.
Melora first checked the pattern section; it was still August, the Halloween patterns weren’t in season yet, so she dug to the very back of the drawer till she found something suitable for fifty cents. The two dress patterns and the hat patterns were a bit more expensive, being fashionable year-round, but they seemed worth the cost. Melora then measured out four yards of thick blood red flannel for her circle cloak, and five yards of some choice printed cotton that was on sale. Melora raided the bargain scrap bin for quilting squares, loading up her cart with the ones she found pleasant. Lastly she found a bolt of black leather, used normally for upholstery, and measured out four yards. This all she took to the cutting table to be measured and sliced. Melora hoped that no one would ask her any questions. They didn’t. She bought the fabric, and some buttons besides, and left. As soon as the door closed behind her, the store burst into conversation.
Melora set her things down on the floor of the living room, sighing as she collapsed on the couch. Edward had been sitting on one end of it, and now he looked to her. He needn’t ask anymore, Edward knew Melora would tell him how her day went.
Melora did not speak for a moment; she was tired from the awkwardness of her visit, and the hard task of rolling uphill with so many groceries. When she felt cooled down enough, she simply shook her head. “I don’t know how you stood it, down there. How does anyone stand it down there? They are so bored with their own lives that they need to know everything about everyone else’s. And they can get so cruel when you step out of line, when you push the boundaries too far...” Melora thought back to Paula.
Edward simply sat, listening. His expression was blank, save his eyes, which were no longer obscured by his hair. Edward’s eyes were like jet orbs, reflecting nothing, absorbing everything. They conveyed the deepest, most subtle emotions Melora had ever seen. One half of his hair was delicately swept back behind his ear; Melora wondered how it could have stayed there so immaculately since she put it there, for obviously Edward himself ran the risk of cutting his ear off should he attempt such a move.
“I am ill at ease, Edward...” Melora whispered, unable to forget her sense of dread, “I do not like it down there. Not one bit.”
They sat there quietly, Melora gently allowing herself to relax as she mentally sorted through her agenda for the day. The more she looked at the room around her, the studio, the paints, the tall windows, the gray walls, the velvet couch, the hearth, and then finally Edward himself, the sentient automaton who seemed her truest friend in the world, the more Melora felt the tension from the shopping trip melt away. She was safe here. Nothing so ugly from suburbia would ever make it past the gates, nothing would enter to trample Edward’s beautiful flowers. This was their sanctuary.
“Well, there’s only so much I can complain about the state of things...” Melora said to Edward, “I bought some really useful things today; and I finally got BGE to wire power to us. After this point, I can move in at any time.”
Edward nodded. “When?”
Melora sighed. “There’s nothing to stop me moving in tomorrow. I’ll collect my things from the Ashtons’, say my farewells, and go to work from here the next day. Providing you’re still sure that you want me around.” Melora looked to Edward, her tone very serious.
Edward could only nod again. Melora had cut a big, Melora-shaped space in his life and his heart, she was part of his routine now. She’d proven herself to be different from the people living in suburbia, Edward knew that no harm would come to him from her.
Melora smiled. She hoisted herself up off the couch, and began emptying her bags on the floor. As far as Edward could tell, she’d bought mostly textile goods, save for the large grated fan, which she placed in a corner near a wall socket. Melosa plugged it in, and turned the dial up to see if the power had come yet. Indeed, the fan immediately began to rotate, building up to make a dull soft roar. Cool air washed over Edward, blowing his hair gently. It felt nice.
Next Melora lifted the large down comforters, one after the other, and spread them over the carpets next to the hearth, piling them on top of each other. They covered a good sized area of the living room floor; two people could lay comfortably on them with their arms and legs spread and never touch each other. She then took the large mismatched pillows and arranged them in strategic areas over the duvets, and the makeshift bed was complete. Melosa placed the bag of fabric from Jo Anne’s near the stairs, to be taken up on her next trip.
“I need to spend the next two days planning the vegetable garden. The rain from yesterday probably made the ground nice and soft; so today would be the ideal day to prepare the soil for planting. Still, I’ll need to make some diagrams and read the books I bought if I’m going to be serious about this. The sooner we stop buying our vegetables, the more money we’ll save,” said Melosa as she went into the kitchen to grab her seed packets and her big book of gardening.
Reaching into her suitcase, Melora pulled out her notebook and flipped to a new page, and dug around for a pen. Laying all these things out on the duvets, Melora stretched out on her stomach to read and take notes. Edward got up, but wasn’t sure if he should join her, so walked past her to look again at the paintings she’d set up. After a while, he sat down, content to contemplate a single image for as long as Melora would read. So while Edward walked through alien landscapes, Melora marked down when and how each of her seeds should be planted, how the soil should be tilled, and how often each plant should be watered. It was late afternoon when Melora finished taking notes; she’d filled several pages with her curlicue script.
Melora looked up, watching Edward sit before one of her paintings, his mind somewhere else entirely. What paintings would he have painted, were he created whole? What seeds would he have planted in the barren earth?
“I’m going to make some lunch, Edward.” Melora said, lifting off the duvet and sashaying into the kitchen. Her words startled Edward out of his reverie. Soon he could smell soup cooking on the stove.
“Soup’s is sort of all we got, besides maybe pasta...” Melora said as she set the table for two. They ate together in companionable silence, and when they were done Melora cleared the table and washed each dish in the sink.
Once she was done with this, Melora went out the back door and headed towards the shed. “I will need to make myself a hat, one of these days,” Melora said as Edward followed her. Within the shed, Melora discovered a wealth of gardening tools. Vincent must have gardened in his free time, and Edward I guess just took over afterwards. Selecting a large shovel, Melora went back to the house and squared off a suitable looking area for her garden, pressing the shovel into the dirt to mark the area. For the next three and a half hours, Melora sweated in the sun as she turned the soil, which was black and wet with rain. Edward could do nothing, so he watched, fascinated once more by her dexterity. Melora ran the earth through chicken wire seives to get the stones out of it, and pulled up the grass and weeds from it. It was hard work, and Melora’s arms were dark with dirt up to her elbows. Any earthworms she found she was careful to keep in the earth, touching them little and handling them delicately when she did.
The only thing suitable to plant in late August was the squash, which had a place reserved for it. Melora poked holes into the earth to make a row, and tenderly she placed each seed into the ground. “Sleep peacefully, and when the day comes, may each of you waken.” Melora said over her buried seeds. She looked up to see Edward gazing at her silently, and felt slightly embarrassed to be caught talking to plants. Then she grinned at him.
“One time I planted petunias in a pot and took them into my room, where I read an entire novel to them,” Melora said, “since I’d heard talking to your plants makes them grow better.”
Edward smiled at this, and asked, “Did they?”
Melora laughed. “They practically took over my entire room!”
They ate dinner together not long afterwards, Melora turning a fork in Edward’s pasta and holding it up for him to close his mouth over with a smile. “Like it?” She asked.
“Mmm-hmm.” Edward intoned, chewing slowly while Melora twirled her own pasta. Melora had to laugh. Edward looked so cultivated now, with a napkin tied around his neck, and his hair neatly combed down. It was only for a lack of eyebrows and light eyes that he looked any different from the man in the photograph now.
Cleanup was of course always difficult, having no dishwasher. Melora would have to take half an hour after the meal to scrub at every plate, cup, utensil and pot that she used. Knowing this, and knowing that she would want to take a bath afterwards, Melora rekindled the stove and set two large pots of water on to boil. Edward would stay, not feeling very useful at all, but Melora helped him ignore this by telling him stories-what were really dramatic re-enactments of the movies she’d seen.
“And then!” Melora said, rinsing plate after plate, “he says to the audience, ‘Don’t worry, those manacles are solid aluminum! The giant ape will never be able to break them!’ And the whole time I’m going, ‘Oh dear, that’s not very strong...’ and what happens but King Kong sees the girl and he’s like, ‘GRAAAAAAAH!’ and snaps the manacles like tissue paper, and then he’s all like, ‘OOOAAAAH!” and climbs this building and eats a few people and tears the panties off this one chick...”
Edward listened, slightly frightened, totally enraptured. It’d been a while since Melora had seen King Kong, but she had no problem making up the parts she didn’t remember. It was funnier that way.
When she was done with the dishes, Melora took the pots of hot water up the stairs, one at a time, and emptied them into the tub. There wasn’t nearly enough water to bathe properly in, so Melora had to go back downstairs and heat up more. In the mean time, the water sitting in the tub cooled, to Melora’s dismay, for it took a while for the large pots to heat up. Melora decided to let the water boil a bit before taking it off the stove, and in this way the overly hot water compensated for the lukewarm water. By this time, there was enough water for Melora to wash herself comfortably in, and she quickly gathered soap and shampoo to herself while undressing. Edward had followed her up to the bathroom, and Melora briefly considered whether or not he should be in the bathroom with her. She reasoned that his intentions were totally innocent, and it would just confuse him if she were to shun him now.
Edward sat himself against a nearby wall, and Melora did not speak. It felt wonderful to be able to relax as long as she wanted, without having to hurry for anyone else. Melora dipped her head back into the water and lathered it with shampoo, and scrubbed her skin thoroughly with soap. After that, Melora unplugged the drain and leaned back against the porcelain, closing her eyes and stretching out her legs in the long tub.
She would turn this place into a paradise, she thought, it would be heaven on earth for the both of them. No more would either of them feel pain or scorn, not while in the warm embrace of Edward’s garden, and all that lay within. Edward would receive everything she could give him, whatever he asked for.
The silence between them did not bother the either of them, and after a while Melora emerged from the tub, dripping water all over the floor. In the dry heat of summer, Melora enjoyed the feel of her bare skin drying. If it weren’t for the changing seasons, and the need to venture into the village, I’d probably never wear clothes, Melora thought to herself and smiled.
Leading Edward to the library, Melora bade him to choose a book for her to read, and he pointed to one, a book of poetry. Retiring to her bedroom, Melora crawled between the sheets and opened the large tome.
“There was an old man from the cape,
who made himself garments of crepe...”
Edward did not say a word while Melora read. He sat with his knees bent to his chest, his groomed hair falling forward a bit to curve over his brow. Edward seemed to stare into nothing, but smiled once to Melora when she extinguished the wall lights. Melora had no dreams that night, and if Edward did, he did not give any indication.