Goldenseal by Maria Hummel

Author:Maria Hummel
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Catapult
Published: 2023-11-16T00:00:00+00:00

14.

LET ME FIRST SAY THAT I KNOW YOU RECOGNIZE these rooms, though the furnishings are different, and by day, the light would be different, on account of our taller neighbors now,” said Lacey. “Papi wanted the apartment to be bright and airy. It was, until that dreadful bank tower rose up the hill. But you know you’ve woken here beside me many times, don’t you? Stepping into these chambers must have felt strange, like stepping back to the past. You loved the chintz sofa with the big roses; it sat over there by the window. I preferred the matching armchair; I liked to tuck my legs beneath me. Remember the fringe lamps that we did our homework by? And those horsehair mattresses. They were always too hot in summer.” She wanted Edith to picture it again, every bit of their closeness. “We even used the same shampoo. ‘Soft as rainwater,’ it said on the bottle.”

“I remember,” said Edith faintly.

Lacey put out her cigarette and lit another. Edith watched her with hands folded. “What did you make of the hotel, when you first saw it?” said Lacey.

“Long ago, or now?”

“Your very first impression. Long ago.”

“It was magical. I felt like Cinderella,” Edith said. “Every night, I was waiting for the clock to toll and to send me home in rags.”

“You had trouble sleeping back then,” commented Lacey.

“I was afraid he would find me,” said Edith. “By day I could persuade myself it was impossible, but when night came, I was sure I heard his step in the hall.”

“Sometimes you cried in your sleep. I remember that,” said Lacey, although she didn’t recall it. If Edith had been fearful, she’d never shown it. Instead, Edith had embraced the warm, winterless days, throwing out her wool and wearing Lacey’s cotton tea dresses, ordering from the kitchen on Lacey’s father’s tab, learning about veal scallopine and croque monsieur, and how to balance her fork in her fingertips instead of her fist. It was Edith who ultimately excelled in the school they attended; Edith who got the highest grades and acquired the most friends, almost as if she’d been making up for lost time. She never talked about her family or explained to Lacey the beating she’d received. Do you ever think about them? Lacey asked once, the night before their high school graduation, imagining Edith crossing the stage without any relatives to clap for her.

Sometimes I think about what season it is, said Edith after a moment. It’s spring now and the wild irises are out. I used to pick bouquets for my sister. And then, fiercely, She’d be glad for me now.

What about your brothers?

Edith had made a noise, somewhere between a laugh and a sob, but she hadn’t answered. She never mentioned her father, either. In the intervening years, Lacey wondered about Edith and Mr. Holle on Vaudeville Night, how they couldn’t stop staring at each other. Edith hadn’t seemed afraid of him then. More like infatuated. Desperate. It made Lacey’s gut wrench to think of that Edith now.

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