Green Eyed

New York 1949, Seattle 2010

The tobacco colored satin buttoned down her back; the creamy off the shoulder fur trim brought color to Fiona’s skin. The slimmer lines of skirts this season showed off hips that previous years had hidden in flounced full skirts. The new girl tied and cut the thread on the finished hem and smiled up at Fiona. “Aw applesauce!” the girl muttered. On the last pull through she’d poked her rosy finger tip and only now noticed the ruby droplet.

Sophia had been sullen for weeks now, but they still kept going off and talking, their absence leaving the rooms too still. Again Fiona sat feeling that stillness creep into her marrow. Her jaw didn’t clench, the arms of the chair didn’t creak under her grip - she felt the dust settle on her eye lashes and still not a flicker. Neil had been sent to the kitchen, and she could feel the vibration of his movement. She could hear Sheila scamper in and offer to help him, and Neil as he agreed, though there wasn’t much to making hot chocolate. Fiona felt a bunny snuffle at her foot.

The girl had put her hair up in some complicated way that Fiona hadn’t been able to follow but the sweep of it complimented the curve of her chin and the tilt of her eyes. “This will be just right. I know you haven’t seen this in the magazines yet but you will. I gotta tell you, you got some great gams. So if my date is a flat tire you should have a good time for me.” Fiona’s eyebrows rose slightly. This girl hadn’t been allowed much socialization since her addition to the household, however tenuous her position might be. “Date?” Fiona checked the girl’s work in the mirror, pleased with the results.

Fiona stroked the soft fur; a smile carved across her face. Sheila was undeniably putting the moves on Neil. She heard the patio door open and close, turning her head and watching Colin and Sophia return, his hand on the small of her back. They didn’t notice her. She felt the clammy cloak of trained disinterest settle around her - they wouldn’t look.

Sheila primped her hair in the mirror. “That Colin, he’s a little hard boiled huh?”She checked the line of her lipstick. Fiona swallowed reflexively. “A little,” She murmured; pieces were falling into place, “but he’s a good man. He’ll treat you real swell.” Fiona lay her hands flat on the marble top of the vanity. Sheila chirped a little longer then flew like a sparrow onward. She hadn’t seen Fiona’s shining eyes. But as Colin had held the front door for Sheila he had looked over his shoulder. He had seen. A long airless moment, where gravity scarcely seemed to hold things in their place; then the velveted night swallowed them and Fiona sat in her stillness.

Sheila and Neil were talking quietly, in the quiet conspiracy that their condition afforded. Fiona felt an old ache ease. Fur was soft under her fingers as she stroked gently. She was tired, and her hand slowed. She felt that stillness creep in once more…she saw the shadows deepen around her. She heard Sheila giggle, Neil’s spoon clicking in his hot chocolate, and the action of an Israeli made IMI Galil 7.62mm assault rifle.

Fiona heard the rustle of cloth but didn’t open her eyes, feeling the size of him move behind her. His hands enveloped her bare shoulders and the candlelight dimmed, “It will be alright.” His voice resonated deep in his chest, and it would be alright. “This is the right thing. It’s better for him.” The tears came then, ruining Sheila’s hard work. He spoke and she believed. “Yes Daddy.”

Caelum stood before Fiona on the Persian carpet, wearing a look of surprise. Fiona smiled again slowly, widening the eyes of her student. “Good, very good.” Her voice sounded like a metal rasp, hissing around the room and coming from no particular direction. “But how would you escape?”