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“Hmm, you need shoes and stockings,” she says as she eyes my feet. “My boots might be too small for you but they should do for now. Oh and you’ll need a chemise as well. As for drawers…”
“I’ll go without,” I say quickly and she doesn’t bat an eye at how scandalous that sounds. Instead she goes to her armoire and opens the drawers. “Ms. Choi,” I begin.
“Please, call me Narae,” she says. “We should be a on a first name basis if you are wearing my clothes.”
“Of course, Narae. You said you left the school. When? How?”
“This summer,” she says, bringing out a chemise from the drawer. “I was gone until the end of August. Took the riverboat down to New York City, the train to Boston.”
“And they let you leave?” I ask, holding the chemise along with the skirt and bodice.
She gives me a funny look. “Of course. Many teachers stay but I like to travel. Of course, I don’t remember a thing about the school while I’m gone, just that I teach here and that’s it.”
“But when you’re gone you still know you’re a witch…”
“I do,” she says with a slow nod. “But it doesn’t feel as important when I’m out there. It’s as if all my magic stays here at the school. I’m barely a witch at all when I leave.” A worrying expression comes over her as she gives her head a shake. “But I did have a note from your aunt with me. It said to bring back as much opium as possible. She’d given me money too. I’d forgotten, but it was there in my pocketbook.”
“Leona wanted you to bring back opium?” I ask, thinking I’d heard her wrong.
“Yes.”
“What for?”
She shrugs. “I didn’t ask. Or if I did, I don’t remember. Why don’t you go into the bathroom and put those on? I can help you with your boots after.”
In a daze I go into the bathroom and put on the chemise, skirt and bodice. It’s a little tight but thankfully it fits because I’m not using a bustle at my rear. The bodice only does up at the front because it has ribbon closure instead of hook and eye.
When I emerge I feel out of sorts but passable and I sit down in her chair as she brings out stockings and boots.
“I can do that myself,” I tell her as she starts to roll the stocking up over my foot and despite what happened in the bath earlier, I’m glad I’m freshly clean.
“You are used to a housemaid,” she says. “And I was a housemaid before I became a teacher It’s not a problem for me.”
Ms. Choi—Narae—finishes up with the stockings, securing them below the knee with matching navy ribbons, and then the cream-colored boots that too tight and pinch my toes together, doing them up with a button hook, and I can’t help but think about Famke and the way she always assisted me, especially when my mother never did. It feels good to have help, even if for a moment, and I wonder if I’ll eventually make any girlfriends in the dorms where we would help each other with things like this.
At the very least, I’ll miss Famke. As much as I don’t want to see my mother, I know I’ll have to go back into Sleepy Hollow to visit. There’s still so much we need to discuss.
In the end, Famke said she was loyal to my father and to me. Maybe when I graduate from this school I can bring her with me, wherever I end up going, though it feels a little pathetic that the only way I’ll have any sense of family is by paying her to be my housemaid.
And all at once I’m hit with the intensely hollow feeling I get when I miss my father out of the blue, the profound shock of his absence mingling with the present.
“Are you in pain?” Narae asks me and I glance at her in surprise. She’s finished doing up my boots and is holding out her hand for me to stand up. I quickly reach up under my eyes to find my cheeks wet—I’ve been crying.
“I suppose I am,” I say hoarsely, swallowing the lump in my throat before taking her hand as she helps me to my feet.
“Your feet are too big for my shoes,” she points out, thinking that’s why I’m crying. “It might be painful for a bit. Try not to walk too much today until you get your clothes.” She drops my hand and then starts fixing my hair, bringing out a few pins from under her bonnet and starts putting my strands up in a loose bun, letting a few strands hang loose.
“There,” she says. “Now you look less like you’ve fallen into a lake.” Her gaze hardens. “You know you can talk to me about anything, Katrina,” she says in a low, steady voice. “You’re a special witch and I think you know it. Perhaps alchemy isn’t your strong suit yet, but with your bloodlines, you have the ability to go far. You can do anything.” Her look softens. “You’ll find your place here, with the right people. Sometimes it just takes time to find the right path to take you there.”
