Now, Jaleese sits in the corner of our kitchen with one hand on her ballooning belly and the other pops persinp berries into her mouth. The berries are as yellow as the dress that tightly clings to her swollen frame. It’s not my favorite color but it does suit the red undertones of her dark umber skin.
She wears a white fabric bracelet embroidered with flowers that I had given her on her wedding day. She doesn’t wear the bracelet often, and I can’t help but think this might be a small slight to me and my decision.
“So, Ariah, I saw that Mrs. Kimpol’s shop was closed. Where has she gone?” She continues to rub her belly and leans back in the chair. She doesn’t say it in a nosy tone but like she’s trying to break the tension she’s caused.
“Her and her husband went up to Picktum Creek, and she gave me a few days off.”
“I miss those days. Jerimi and I haven’t taken a trip in a long time. Nothing but you, nature, and your loved one. The best things about life if you ask me.” This time she smiles, and I feel the snub she undeniably throws my way.
“Aww”—I pretend to pout—“I hope you enjoyed them. Probably won’t happen anytime soon with the baby coming and all. Can’t have too much fun after having a child.”
This only makes Jaleese smile more.
Despite our disagreements with each other and the routes we take in life, I don’t feel any less loved by her. She has found something that works for her and I’m happy. It may not happen as soon as I’d like, but I know one day she’ll understand my position.
“Ariah,” my mother says dryly, causing both Jaleese and me to jump. It’s the first time she has spoken to me since I’ve been home. “Can you get one of the smaller wine jugs and then tell your father supper will be ready in twenty minutes. He’s been inthat room all day. Can’t imagine what those fumes are doing to his mind.”
One thing accepting the proposal would have given me was the chance to run my own home. I love my parents, but I’m itching for a place of my own. Maybe with the coins Mrs. Kimpol gave me today, I can start to save for a place. It would be frowned upon for a woman to live on her own unless widowed, but how much more could council hate me?
Making my way to the small cellar where we keep wine, oils, and other nonperishables, I find one of the smaller wine jugs. It weighs no more than fifteen pounds and I carry it up the steps easily, using my foot to shut the door behind me.
Instead of going back to the front of the house, I make my way to a shed-like building my father built. It also acts as a greenhouse and it’s where he does most of his apothecary work. Not bothering to knock, I let myself in. I set the jug down on a nearby desk and follow the music notes of a piano farther into the space.
There is a maze of plants, and the walls are covered in bookshelves that possess hundreds of books and glass vials. The deeper inside I go, the more the air fills with a rotten egg scent and I cover my nose to keep from gagging.
Rounding one of the corners, I come face to face with a large birdcage and one very yellow cockatoo named Lemon.
“Ariah’s coming. Ariah’s coming,” Lemon squawks to alert my father. There is no surprising him with Lemon around.
“Thank you for the introduction,” I whisper near the cage and pet his head.
At the sound of my name, I see my father’s head pop up from behind two beakers he is working with at his desk. In one beaker rests a red-colored liquid looking like over-soaked berries. In the other is a toxic, green mixture that emits an even greener mist, and I wonder if that is where the awful smell is wafting from.
Removing a round set of eye protectors from his face, Father tosses them on the table and comes to me with arms wide open. In one fluid movement, he wraps me in his arms and squeezes me in a comforting embrace, much like the ones I used to get as a child.
Pulling away he grips my shoulders and searches my eyes. “Well? How did it go? Who’s the lucky fella?”
His eyes are puffy, either from wearing the protectors too long or messing with late night experiments. There are little green leaves that stick out of his dark hair, and despite messing with different substances all day, he smells like fresh rainwater and cucumbers.
“Jaleese hasn’t been in here babbling?” He shakes his head. “Oh, well, I told them ‘no.’”
“No?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, you told them ‘no.’” I let him take a few moments to process the news. “And does your mother know?”
“She does,” I say with irritation.
“Jaleese,” we both utter at the same time.
He lets go of my shoulders and takes a step backwards before giving me a big smile. “Good on you. No one deserves you anyways.” I exhale like I’ve been holding my breath for several minutes. “And your mother will come around. She just wants a good life for you, that’s all.”
“I think I have a pretty good one.” This makes his smile grow.
“It’s not too bad is it.” He tosses me a wink. “I assume you’re here to tell me it’s time for supper.”
“You assume correctly.” I wander over to his desk. “And what have you been working on?”
