Chapter 39: Wandering Home
And so, I found myself on the streets of Myrddhin City. Kitten heels clicked on cobblestones. I had to show great care to avoid catching those heels between cobbles as I walked. The smell of horse manure mingled with the smell of stale urine and rotten vegetables. I stepped past a wooden cart laden with garbage. A cat raised its head from the garbage, a fish head in its mouth. The buildings around me were stone or brick. And a drunk chess board of reds and grays rose around me as I walked.
I had the clothing on my back. I had the jewelry I had been wearing. I had a silver and ivory cigarette case but no herbal cigarettes and no matches. I had an ivory and silver cigarette holder. I had my cane. I had my new silver clasp. And I had nothing else.
The jewelry was valuable. I could sell it. That would hold me for a while. But I still needed to figure out what to do now. I had never felt so lost. Amy had told me not to come back until I understood. Fiona had called off our courtship until I found out what was hurting me. I had become homeless in a strange world. And Lynn wasn’t talking to me.
And on top of that I had nowhere to go. Okay that wasn’t exactly true. I would go to the Witch and the Willow and get a room. It was the cheapest place to rent a room that didn’t stink of stale beer and dry urine. Wait, there was something about renting a place. I remembered something. What was it?
The White Rose Hotel.
Baroness Olivia Wander had said to visit her at the White Rose Hotel when things seemed to be darkest. Well, this qualified. I knew roughly where it was from the game map, and so I started walking. I could see the White Rose Hotel from quite a distance. The building rose five stories high. Flying buttresses and pointed arches festooned the exterior and displayed its Neo-Gothic styling.
The front desk directed me to a private suite on the fifth floor. When I knocked on the Baroness’ door, it opened almost immediately.
“Well, here you are, right on schedule. Come on in, darling. Let’s sit you down and sort you out. Shake the fears out and get your head on straight.”
I stared in shock, “Thank you.”
“Come along dear, let’s speak in my study. Peter Darling? Could you brew up a pot of tea and put some brandy in there for Ren. She’s going to need it.”
“There’s a study in a hotel room?”
“I own the hotel. This is my home away from home. I use it when I’m visiting Fiona. Now come along. You have things to do. I don’t want to waste your time.”
I followed her into the study. She closed the door behind me. And, as I sat down, I had the sense that the space inside the study went on in all directions. Piles of books and mirrors on every surface gave the illusion of space. The space inside the study seemed larger than the building which contained it. The baroness sat down on an overstuffed swivel chair in front of a crowded writing desk. She indicated a burgundy chaise lounge opposite her chair. The chair sat surrounded by piles of books and vases full of yellow roses. I sat down and waited.
The baroness reached into the mouth of a stuffed crocodile and retrieved a bottle. She picked a pen knife from off the drawing table and used the knife to lever open the cork with a satisfying pop. She tipped the bottle back and took three good swallows before handing the bottle to me. I took a sniff. The liquid smelled like mead, so I took a sip. It was mead, and good mead in fact. I took three good swallows myself and passed the bottle back. The baroness helped herself to another three mouthfuls of the mead. And then she set the bottle on the writing desk.
“Now,” She said, leaning back, “Tell Auntie Olivia all about your girl troubles.”
I sighed, “Do you want the long answer or the short answer?”
She shook her head, “I don’t need an answer. I already know. It’s a question of what do you need to tell? This is for your benefit, not mine. Tell me as much or as little as you need to get to the answers trapped in your little noggin.”
“I am courting Countess Fiona. Although I suspect that has come to an abrupt and unhappy halt. I have been keeping my personal maid as a mistress. Both have approved of the relationship with the other. But they both seem hurt by the other relationship. But they like each other, and they are even attracted to each other. So, I’m confused.”
“Well, then you’re looking at things from the wrong angle. Why are you surprised that they like each other?”
“Well, shouldn’t they be rivals?”
Olivia smiled, “You tell me? Should they be rivals? Or rather, shouldn’t they be rivals?”
“I don’t know, but that seems to be what happens.”
“So, the question might be why didn’t that happen here? Why do you still feel as though both relationships are suffering?”
“Amy, my mistress, she’s said that it made sense for me to court Fiona. But I see pain when I look in her eyes during conversations surrounding the subject.”
“When in those conversations do you see that pain?”
I sighed, “When I talk about Fiona.”
“So, they like each other, but your mistress doesn’t like to talk about your suitor.”
“That’s right. But she’ll talk with my suitor. And I don’t understand that.”
“Then maybe the pain doesn’t come from the subject of the conversation. Maybe it comes from the source of the conversation.”
“Me,” I said. “She’s in pain because of me?”
“If you say so dear. Why might talking about Fiona, your suitor, with you particularly, hurt your mistress.”
“When you put it like that, I can’t imagine it not hurting.”
“Yes, yes. That’s fine. But why, in your case, why do you think your mistress is feeling pain?”
I closed my eyes and ran through a litany of possibilities, but I could not narrow my list down.
I shrugged and hung my head in frustration.
“Ren,” Olivia said, a hard edge creeping into her voice. “You are hiding from a monster of your own making. And that’s the truth. I could tell you, but it's a much more effective lesson if you experience it.”
Peter arrived with the tea.
“Now, Ren. Dear,” For a moment she spoke with a voice like falling iron bars, “Who is the most important person in your life?”
I opened my mouth and then stopped. I had been about to say Lynn. But that made no sense. It should have been Amy, or Fiona, or Amy and Fiona together. Why had I almost said Lynn?
Because I always said Lynn, since I was five years old.
I burst into tears. Olivia waited. Sobs wracked my body. I struggled for a handkerchief and blew my nose. I was ugly crying. I felt my heart breaking in shame. And I kept crying. I don’t know how long I cried.
But when I regained control, Olivia spoke, “You saw it. Didn’t you?”
I nodded, “I’ve let my loves take second place. No, worse, I’ve made them fight for second place. I’ve made them fight for second place, when they were happy to share first place. And I owe them first place.”
“You do. You won a lottery with those two, and you’ve been squandering your winnings.”
“So, what do I do?”
“Good question. Better question: what will you do?”
Read more in "Daughters of the Digital Empire," Available soon!
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