Vivian stumbles, “I thought you were a steel apprentice. You’re actually… Wow.”
Mercurio, the even worse worst of my brothers, leans down next to the radio. “You still sound like a wounded sparrow. What station?”
“I chose it on the way; you can choose it now, Mistress,” I say.
“Did I need your permission to choose for myself?” She orders to Mercurio, “thirty-two point seven.”
I can hear my mother make a desperate bid for cleaning the kitchen as I leave to ‘my’ room. I’m just glad I don’t need to take another turn cleaning anything here anymore.
Being in the place alone makes my heart plummet. It’s theoretically larger than the dorm, but it’s shared between three people. I’m never truly me when I’m under eyes that somehow feel more judgemental than Mistress Vincenza’s.
At least the blanket is colorful, and it’ll make a lovely sack to stuff my books into. Some crescents go in as well—no clothing. Don’t really need that anymore; I can just spend an hour each night cleaning my one good dress in the bathtub. I’ll keep the…
I thought I owned more.
I lived here, eighteen years. What’s there to show for that?
Unless Mistress Vincenza ever shows interest in pay stubs or my diploma… I didn’t need to come back home. I didn’t have much of anything to bring back, from here or to here. Nothing called for this journey but a sense of obligation. Fuck.
I leave the room, dragging my limited belongings atop the floor. “Oh. Mistress. You were waiting out here?”
She looks down the hallway towards the main room, leaning on the wall. “For you.”
“Why?”
She weakly sighs. “I know you,somewhat, and am comfortable with you as an apprentice.”
I bite my lip. “I’m sorry for trying to make you accompany me. This isn’t an appropriate setting for… you, is it?”
“The parlour isn’t in the best condition either, and I’m used to these places.” The briefest smile flickers over her, but then her face is dragged down by something I can’t identify. “It’s not unreasonable for an apprenticeto stay in regular contact with her family. Even if they don’t show interest in the arcane, the parlour can host them if you ever wish.”
“I won’t…” I laugh awkwardly. “I don’t know what we’re going to do until dinner.”
“...Forty-two point two hosts radio plays. They should be starting a new episode in a few minutes, after the ad reads.”
“Forty-two point two? What genre of plays are they?”
“Space opera.”
“Fun.” It’s probably an appropriate time to smile.
Mistress Vincenza raises her own in return. “Did I mention that it’s unusual for Stella to not… Never mind. Let’s get to your radio play.”
I can’t understand a word.
The fact that the station was mixed language and switched between Roversellan and Lawrinian plays went unmentioned, and then I felt like I shouldn’t bring it up or complain. Mistress Vincenza is paying attention to it without issue.
I think the storyline is vaguely romantic? There were some rocket noises and gun shots, but the dialogue seemed affectionate.
“Dinner’s ready!” my mother calls.
“Finally. Your taste in drama is awful.” Mercurio tosses down his newspaper and leaves.
Vivian recoils from his little ship. “Don’t say that in front of her!”
“Oh, sure, I won’t. I’m behind her back, actually.”
I study Mistress Vincenza as we join the table for any offense. None, yet. She still looks strangely… happy.
