A Kiss in Time (13 page)

Not her. She was . . . She turns the rest of the way around, using the hoodie to shield
her face. She has vanished.

Good. Then we can go.

I suppose. Talia keeps looking, walking as though she expects something or someone to
swoop down on her from the ceiling. Ah, if shes still alive, shes probably forgotten you by now. I take her arm to lead her
toward the exit. How long can someone stay mad about not being invited to a party?

Perhaps. But she was a woman. Women never forget such slights. And I have learned the
consequences of not heeding warnings. It shall not happen again.

T
he taxicab ride is hot and barely faster than a horse, due to what Jack calls traffic.
Throughout it, I am pictur- ing Malvolias face.

What I failed to tell Jack, lest he believe me insane, was that she spoke to me.

Ah, Princess. Her black eyes flickered. You have been a naughty girl, indeed.

She did not look as she looked that day in the tower room, a sweet old lady. Now she was
younger, taller, straighter. But her eyes were the same, black and glittering, as was her
voice.

You have awakened under false pretenses, she said. False pretenses? Yes. She stepped aside
to allow a man with luggage to pass. This boy is not your true love. You should not be awake. But I will fix it, as I always do. Those who thwart me suffer the consequences.

She reached for me, clawed fingers brushing my sleeve. I started to run away through the
crowds, putting as many people between us as possible. I hid. That was when Jack found me.

But perhaps Jack is right. I am insane. In my mind, the events with the dresses, the
spindle, everything, happened days ago, not hundreds of years ago. Could Malvolia be
alive? Even if she is, surely she would forget the small slight of not being invited to my
christening party in so many years time.

Of course. It was my imagination. It must have been. My insane imagination.

Still, I wonder what she meant by consequences.

Or what my imagination meant, since she was not real. She was not real.

I look over at Jack, asleep in the seat. I sigh. He is to be my husband, although he does
not realize it. Can I love him? He is selfish and immature, and yet he did take me with
him when he could easily have abandoned me. Why did he? For love, or for pity? Can pity be
turned into love? I know not. I also do not know if the gratitude I feel to this silly boy
for taking me with him can be turned to love on my side. But then, I probably would not
have loved my chosen husband had I stayed in Euphrasia.

No, the important thing is not what I feel for him but what he feels for me. I must make
Jack love me, to make my lie true. If he is my true love, even Malvolia cannot complain. And, just as important,
I must make his par- ents love me, for no marriage can take place without their approval.

I can be very sweet when I wish to, not to mention beautiful.

I take out my hairbrush. It is so hot I feel my face may melt, but I can work on my hair.

Jacks home is not nearly as large as the castle. But it is much larger than the homes of
the peasants in Euphrasia. Surely the family that lives here would be delighted to have
their son marry royalty.

Jack knocks and knocks upon the door. Guess no ones home, either, he says.

I relax a bit.

A rush of cold air greets us, as does the sight of a sullen girl of about three and ten.
This must be his sister, Meryl. She is tall, as tall as I am, and a number of blemishes
mar her cheeks. I have never had a blemish myself, of course, but one of my ladys maids
had several, and they looked quite painful. Meryl also has metallic objects connected to
her teeth. In one hand, she clutches a pad of paper. She scowls. Oh. Youre here.

Hey, why didnt you get the door? Jack says. She shrugs. Didnt hear it. Jack laughs. Arent
you happy to see your big brother? Depends. Did you bring me anything? Not a thing, Jack says. This is Talia. I put out my hand to her. Charmed to meet you. She
sticks her tongue out at Jack and does not offer to shake my hand, much less curtsy. Are you for real? You brought home a girl from Europe?
Oh, you are going to be in soooo much trouble. She grins a bit, anticipating it.

Jack, I say, we did bring her a gift. Remember? I want this girl to be on my side, if she
is to be my future sister-in-law. I withdraw a cameo necklace from my jewel case. It is
the smallest thing there, but I did not sell it to the man in Belgium because it was too
precious to me. It is a portrait of my great-grandmother Aurora. In it, she is turned
slightly to the side, her hair cascading over her shoulder, and she bears more than a
passing resemblance to myself. I would like you to have this. It is from my country.

She looks at it, then at Jack. Oh, wow, I can wear it to school. She rolls her eyes.

Not the reaction I had expected. A thank-you would be nice, Jack says. Yeah, I guess it
would. She does not thank me. Those objects on your teeth? Pray, what are they? I ask her. She scowls. Excuse me? You have some metal in your mouth. Is that a fashion accessory? She rolls her eyes yet again and starts upstairs without answering. Jack shrugs. My sister doesnt . . . like . . . people. Then he takes my elbow. Come on,
Talia. Im starving.

I follow him into a room which must be the kitchen, although I cannot be certain, for I
have never been inside a kitchen before. We had one at the castle, of course, but it was
the exclusive domain of the cook, Mistress Pyrtle, and her serving girls, and she did not
take kindly to intruders.

The kitchen in Jacks home is pleasant enough. The walls are lined with shiny wooden
cabinetry, and at the center is a large, metal object which Jack opens.

Looks like Mom hasnt been shopping much lately, he says. Weve got leftover Chinese,
leftover Mexican, left- over Chicken Kitchen. . . . He turns to me. What looks good?

I am sorry. Is that food? I know what chicken is, but the rest is unfamiliar.

Sort of. He closes the door and yells toward the other room. Hey, Meryl, how olds this
Chinese?

No response.

Jack takes out a paper container with a picture in red. He sniffs it. Smells okay. No hair
on it. A chime rings.

Jack goes to get a dish from one of the cabinets. At the same time, two girls
approximately the same age as Meryl enter the room. More sisters? Jack did not mention
addi- tional sisters. No. They must be friends of Meryls. These girls are less awkward
than Meryl, perhaps a bit more attrac- tive. And yet there is something I do not like
about them. For one thing, they both wear blouses which show their bellies and bosoms. Why do young women of this time not wear clothing that fits?

Hi, Jack, one of the girls, a petite blonde, says, flounc- ing toward him. She ignores me
entirely.

Hey. Jack hands me a plate. On it, he begins to heap strange food from the box, which I
now see has a picture of a pagoda on it. I learned about pagodas in my study of the
Orient. I always wished to see one in person. Are you here to see Meryl?

The brunette wrinkles her nose. Were here to see you. Heard you went to Europe.

Yep. Jack gives me the remaining food and gestures for me to sit at a table on the other
side of the room.

Thats when Meryl enters. She glances at the two girls, as if comparing them to herself and
finding herself lacking. Hey, so what are you guys doing today?

The blond girl does not look at her but says to Jack, Gaby and I were going to go to the
beach. Want to come?

Jack does not answer but continues to shovel the Chinese food into his mouth. I take a
cautious bite of my own. Salty, but rather interesting. I recognize some of the
vegetables, but others, such as an ear of corn no bigger than my index finger, confound
me. Jacks telephone makes its noise. He answers it.

The brunette girl drapes herself around him, much in the manner of Mothers Persian cat.
Please, Jack, please go with us. The other girl follows suit. Please, Jack. It will be fun.

Jack continues to speak into the telephone.

Hey, guys, Meryl says, I could probably talk to my brother and get him to Whatever. The blond girls eyes never leave Jack.

Finally, Jack says, Hold on a sec. He puts down the telephone and shakes the two girls
off. Hey, Jailbait, you mind? Im trying to have a conversation.

The two girls look offended, then make an elaborate show of peeling themselves off Jacks
shoulders. The bru- nette girl seems purposely to be shoving her rather ample bosom in
front of Jacks eyes. Do these girls mothers know they behave in this manner? Finally, both
leave, and Meryl follows. I can still see them through the door a bit.

Hey, Jennifer, I hear her say. I can get Jack to take us to the beach another day. Maybe
we could ride our bikes to the mall or something.

I watch through the kitchen doorway. One girl laughs, then both, exposed bellies bouncing
inward as they do. Why would we want to do that? the blond girl says.

Yeah, really, the brunette echoes. Its not like we could meet any hot guys with you along.

But I could . . . Meryl stammers. I have money. I could buy us lunch in the Grove or
something.

Hey, whats this? The blonde reaches for the object in Meryls hand. Your diary?

Its nothing, Meryl says, holding it away. The brunette takes up the mockery. Let me see. She pulls it from Meryls hand, then opens
it. I see that it is a book of sketches. Look, Jen. Meryls an artist.

Jennifer grabs the sketchbook. She opens it to a portrait of a mermaid on a rock. Ooh, is
this your girlfriend?

Give it back! Meryl appears near tears.

Im just looking. Its such beautiful art. Despite the words, her tone is nasty.

Jen, give it back! Why should I? Because I say so, I interrupt. I hadnt even realized Id left the room, but now I am standing before the girls, hold- ing out my hand. Please
return it.

I fix them with my best princessy look. Although I am no longer in Euphrasia, I am still a
princess, and these girls are still common. I will make them obey me.

Who are you? Jennifer says, but she hands me the pad. I was just looking at it.

And now you have stopped. Thank you. I give the pad to Meryl and go back into the kitchen.

Whats up her butt? the blonde says. Let me know if your brothers free later.

But . . . okay . . . Meryl watches as the two girls leave.

Before the door closes, I hear one say to the other, Can you believe a dog like that has
such a hot brother?

Horrible things! Meryl undoubtedly heard her, for she looks down and her mouth twists in
an awkward manner. I do not know what to say. Although I spent months learn- ing about diplomacy, we never
once discussed what to do if someone is deliberately cruel to another person in ones
presence.

Jack continues on the telephone. Why did he not come to his sisters rescue?

Meryl is still standing by the door. She looks at me, and I realize she must be
embarrassed at my witnessing this exchange. I take a rather too-large bite of my Chinese
food. Some of the sauce dribbles down my throat, causing me to cough, then disgorge the
food onto the ground. Oh, my goodness! I cough again.

Meryl brightens, laughing. Eat much?

I attempt to retrieve the pieceone of the miniature corn earswith my napkin. No, not much
at all.

It shows.

I hold out my plate. Would you like some? It seems not to agree with me.

She begins to shake her head, then nods. Okay. She gets her own plate and scrapes some of
the food from my plate to hers. She sits down. We eat in relative silence, other than
Jacks conversation. I wish I could think of something to say.

Finally, I say, Are those girls friends of yours?

She looks down. We were friends . . . before they turned into complete . . . She says a
word I do not understand.

Bee . . . I am sorry, but I do not know this term. Oh, I forgot youre Dutch. She sighs. Its kind of like skank? Ho? Seeing my confusion, she
says, Dont they have hos in your country?

I begin to understand, particularly in light of the way the young commoners dressed . . .
not to mention the way they pressed themselves against Jack. I nod.

Jenniferthats the blond oneshe lives next door. Shes hot for Jack, and shes always trying
to jump on him.

I understand. I nod and take another bite of the Chinese food. I begin to warm to its
exoticness.

Meryl takes a bite, too. I glance out the window. The two girls are still outside, looking
into the window, possibly at Jack. When the brunette girl sees me staring at her, she
nudges her friend, then makes a face. I do not like these girls. I remember when I was
seven or eight, there was a girl, the daughter of one of Mothers ladies-in-waiting, who
teased me quite relentlessly about not being allowed out, saying she was going to prick me
with a spindle. I despised her.

Well, then, I say to Meryl, why allow them in, if they are so unkind?

The question appears to take her by surprise. Still, she manages to swallow her food
before saying, I dont know, cause we used to be friends, I guess. It seems like if you
know someone since birth, they should at least be nice to you.

I nod. Why are they not, then? Meryl rolls her eyes as if I am the stupidest person she has ever seen and takes another
bite of her food. She does not answer. Jack continues to prattle along on the tele- phone,
never once suspecting that I am making a complete idiot of myself in front of his sister.

Finally, Meryl says, Id rather not talk about it, Barbie.

My name is Talia.

Whatever. You wouldnt understand. You probably have a gazillion friends. Youre totally
gorgeous.

I sigh. No, actually, I have often been quite lonely.

I do not get the chance to elaborate upon this state- ment, though, as Jack finally closes
his telephone. Good newswere invited to a party at Stewy Stewarts house tonight.