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Chapter 16~ The Sad and Romantic Soliloquy of Flora Mae
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Tick…Tick…Tick…Tick…
The soft ticking of a muffled clock. Tapping of a nervous foot on a hardwood floor. Cold knees. The smell of mothballs and earth. A comforting and repetitive throbbing in a broken right hand. An occasional heavy huffed breath from a nearby reindeer. Dry hands curled around a warm, crazed, and faded teacup. Ginger tea. Uncomfortable silence.
Kit thought it only appropriate that she should speak first. She was the one to come banging on Flora Mae’s door in the middle of the night with a flying reindeer. But, something held back her tongue with an iron grip. She lightly coughed into her fist and dared not meet eyes with the woman on the other side of the coffee table. Flora Mae sat across from her on a musty green loveseat embroidered with white and pink flowers. She sat in her old green night robe with perfect posture, her own teacup in hand, and hardly bothered to eye Kit down. She seemed just as uncomfortable as Kit herself. Kit tried in desperation to recall her plan.
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- Get to New York
Done, shockingly enough.
- Convince Flora Mae to help find Father Time
A work in progress.
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Tick…Tick…Tick…
Kit had known this kind of discomfort before, but the hollow ticking of the shelved clock only heightened her anxiety.
“Well,” Flora Mae began with a raised and stiffened chin, “I think it might be best for you to start an explanation.”
Kit blinked and remembered her tea. She took a sip, ignored the burning on her upper lip, and set the teacup onto its coaster. She didn’t like ginger all that much.
“Yes,” she started, bringing a hand back to shield her broken one. “I, well, I, um, flew here—from the North Pole—to come back and…”
Tick…Tick…Tick…
“Yes?”
“I…just thought I should come back to try and…”
Tick…Tick…
“Girl, are you alright?”
Kit found herself rising to her feet, eyes detached and targeted onto the wall. Flora Mae stared back, unsure of what to say. She should’ve called the police. Why didn’t she call the police?
Kit moved away from the chair and the coffee table and the tea and drew closer to the wall shelf full of dusty knick-knacks. Drew closer to the ticking…
Tick…Tick…Tick…
Scanning her eyes over the dusty ceramic angels and framed photos, she finally found the culprit. The clock. She met eyes with Flora Mae for just a moment, almost as if permission was needed, before retrieving the taped-up clock from the shelf. It beat like a heart in her hand. So much dust clung to the clock that Kit thought it had been sitting there for decades. There was even a noticeable blank spot amidst the blanket of dust where it had once been. Kit blew onto the clock, releasing a cloud of dust into the air. Biting back the pain in her hand, she removed the tape and unwrapped the black plastic sheet.
It was shiny—shinier than what Kit could’ve ever imagined. The bronze frame of the clock gleamed back in Kit’s eyes as if it had just been polished. It was a perfect little thing with a delicate yet sturdy design and a gorgeously antique silver and black face. It was obvious that the clock had been charmed to never reflect age. Kit turned it over to reveal engraved writing on the back.
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My sun,
May you always be reminded of my undying affection that shall break all rules of time itself. We are forever. We are infinite.
Your moon.
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Kit drew her thumb across its surface and felt a heavy weight fall into her chest. She turned back to Flora Mae, but she was isolated completely, eyes boring into space and lips tight in a line. Her wrinkled brown hands gripped the teacup so that it might never leave her grasp. Kit took a step forward, thinking to comfort her but knowing to stay away.
“I know what it feels like to be alone. I feel it every day whenever I look at the rest of my family and see how much they…belong.” The word stung her, but it was the truth.
Flora Mae shut her eyes tight and held her breath in.
“But, most of all,” she continued, “I know how it feels to push every single person away and diminish their importance in my heart. It’s just easier than the chance of having to hurt another…or getting hurt.”
A million thoughts ran through Kit’s head—images that had always resided in the back of her mind but never saw the light of day. She’d become an expert at pushing those thoughts away but could never work up the nerve to blot them out.
“But, eventually, you just get too tired.” She looked back at Flora Mae whose face was ducked down and hidden in shame. Her chest rose and fell in irregular sighs. Kit returned to the coffee table and set the clock down in the center. “This isn’t my place. And I have no right to overstep. But, I don’t get to live forever. I don’t get to casually forget relationships and build a wall between myself and the rest of the world only to have the option to fix it in—what, another 200 years, give or take? Every moment counts. And it isn’t just me. There’s a whole world of people out there who depend upon moments to make life worth living. But, right now, they don’t get that.”
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Silence fell. Kit could no longer hear the ticking of the clock. It had all blurred away. The only thing even worth her attention was the very clear, very heartbreaking image of her mother forming behind her eyes. She couldn’t be angry. There was no reason anymore.
“But, you can fix it. We can fix it. I just need your help,” she finished.
But, Flora Mae didn’t look up. She brought the teacup to her lips, nearly forcing herself to keep control. Her fingers rattled. Kit waited. Flora Mae brought the cup down to the table and said nothing.
“Fine,” Kit said firmly, half to herself, “Thanks for the tea.” Kit tucked her weak, broken hand into her coat. She made her way to Dasher and began leading him out.
“It isn’t your place,” Flora Mae finally said. “But, you’re right.”
Kit turned back. What?
The old woman met her eyes for just a moment before ushering her to the chair. “Sit.”
Letting Dasher’s reigns fall, Kit returned to her chair, still stiff and gentle with her hand. Flora Mae was quiet for a few moments. Her thin fingers reached out to the clock on the table, wrapping around it as if it might slip away. She held everything as if it might slip away. She brought the clock closer in, frowning down onto the face like someone looking into a coffin. Then, she touched her thumb over its edge just as Kit had. It was something sweet but nearly gone.
“I hardly remember a time when he wasn’t in my life. Every memory I have he was always in the edges, waiting for me to find him. And when I did, any moment before him wasn’t worth reliving anymore. He was so perfect for me, made so much sense. It all fell into place so easily. As if the stars had aligned to bring us together. I always said it was his doing. And he’d laugh and say it was all in my head. But, I knew. He was moving time and space for us—for me.”
Tears glistened in her eyes. She kept her steady gaze on the clock. She wanted it to stop, to freeze up and turn back. Turn back to a better time. But, it was too long ago.
“He wanted us to run away together—to forget the world and just be together forever. Not as “Father Time” and “May Queen” but as us. I got scared. I knew what we’d be giving up. We’d be mortal. Our time would be limited. And there’d be nothing he could do to keep me beautiful and him powerful. So, I said no. I couldn’t turn away from my sister like that. I didn’t know the first thing about living—actually living. He drew away from me, and soon, it was over. Like a piece of me had fallen out and there was only a gaping black hole left behind. I tried to fill the emptiness, but it seemed to only grow and grow until I couldn’t see myself in it anymore. I didn’t want to be “May Queen” if it meant I couldn’t be with him. So, I left everything, swore off magic, and came here. I didn’t see him anymore. And I felt content to keep it that way.”
She stopped caressing the clock and set it down. Kit watched, eyes wide and hands clasped.
“I couldn’t help even if I wanted to. I haven’t seen him in years.”
“That’s…” Kit started, eager to find a word to fit. “That’s okay. I don’t need to know where he is. I just need to know where he could be.”
Flora Mae quieted, looking down at her tea and thinking.
“Did you try his domain?”
“There was no sign of him.”
“He doesn’t care much for the mortal world…or at least, he didn’t. He only spoke of it when he talked about running away.”
“Where did he want to go?”
“Well,” she started, raising her brows, “He wanted to go to Europe. London, England, specifically. He had a calling there. I don’t know why.”
“I’m guessing you didn’t like England,” Kit replied.
“I thought it was fine. I wanted to be somewhere with large fields and tall sunflowers, with trees over 100 years old and beaches with sand the color of snow.”
“England has all that, you know.”
Flora Mae smiled, only a small smile, and it was only to herself. “I know,” she said.
“Is there any other clue that you think might help?”
“The only other thing is a tracking spell. It would lead you a day’s trip behind him. But, they’re not always accurate.”
“And?”
“And they require something that once belonged to the person.”
Flora Mae’s gaze trailed down to the shining clock. Kit felt the resolution sit in.
“I understand.” She stood and made her way to Dasher once again. Flora Mae took the clock in her small thin hands, staring deeply into its face.
“I swore I wouldn’t try ever again. It hurt too much.” She looked up at Kit with clear eyes, as if the tears had washed away a film. “But, it hurts much more trying to push it away.”
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She shut her eyes tight and squeezed her fingers into the clock. Her wrinkled arms began to strengthen and full out. Flora’s eyes behind her lids fluttered incessantly and her lips pursed shut. A golden light began emanating from her palms and caused the metal of the clock to begin glowing fiery red. Kit nearly expected her hands to start smoking, but they clasped even tighter onto the clock. Suddenly, Flora’s face began to tighten and tension spread across her neck and shoulders as she began pulling the clock into her. The glowing had grown so intense that it began humming low and reverberantly. At the point before Kit thought the clock might shatter, all her muscles released and the humming and glowing ceased. It was just a clock again and Flora Mae was herself. She blinked feverishly, chest rising and falling in panting breaths. It had been so very long. The only thing that had changed was the near-silent ticking of the clock. She looked down at it.
“The ticking will grow louder as you get closer.”
Flora Mae stood and approached a pale-faced Kit, nearly latched onto Dasher. She handed over the clock and Kit took it with her good hand, careful to make sure it wasn’t white-hot anymore. The clock read 1:36 A.M. Flora Mae’s quiet sadness began to return. And Kit knew she needed to leave. She wanted to thank her, but no words came to mind. What was there to say that could make it up? There was only a single thought running through her mind that she almost thought too bold to ask.
“Do you still love him?” she said, almost a whisper.
Flora Mae fell quiet, face down. Kit wished things were different. Not just for the old woman but for herself as well. Flora Mae looked at Kit and answered with a thought that had run rampant in her head for years and years.
“If he asked again, I know I’d say yes.”
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**********
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Kit stepped out onto the brick steps, the door closing behind her and Dasher meeting by her side. She tucked her broken hand in her coat. The pain was returning, a grim reminder of her own condition. The air was cold and still. The night’s storm had passed away only to begin even worse in the coming hours. Kit looked only at the clock in her hands. She made her way down to the sidewalk and gave a last look at the building. Suddenly, a new quest had been set ahead of her. Something that couldn’t just be forgotten or left behind. Perhaps it was time that Flora Mae learned about “actually living”. A smile spread across Kit’s face as she turned back to the empty street. The streetlamps glowed with a calm strength that would guide her all the way to Europe. She would find Father Time. She would hunt him down if she had to. Because her mother was only a few miles away, sleeping in her bed. She would wake to find Kit and Charlie having disappeared into thin air, desperate to have them back as soon as possible. And Kit couldn’t wait another second longer.
She turned to look down the sidewalk.
“Shit!” she yelped, recoiling into Dasher and pressing her good hand to her frantically beating heart. It was Bernard, only a few feet away. He was dressed back in his New York clothes. She almost hadn’t recognized him.
“You scared me,” she growled, clasping the clock into her and slowing her breathing. He stood quietly with Prancer, the third-in-command, by his side. His face was stone like a parent glowering at a child in trouble. He stood tall and strong like an immovable pillar of salt. But, Kit would no longer back down.
“What are you doing here?” she spat like poison.
“I thought I’d reserved the right for a question like that.”
She almost rolled her eyes.
After a moment of silence, she said, “I’m not going back.”
He said nothing but glanced at the building. “Instead, you’re pestering a woman more powerful than every elf combined for pointless answers.”
“It’s not pointless!” Kit nearly shouted, grasping the clock. She looked down at it lovingly. She felt Flora Mae inside of it. Not just the Flora Mae from New York but the Flora Mae from before. The one buried deep inside. Bernard followed her gaze, not yet addressing the uncomfortable position of Kit’s right hand. He narrowed his gaze, bewildered and unbelieving. But, he already knew the answer.
“What did you do?”
Kit smiled. “I didn’t do anything.” She looked at Bernard finally. There was that stunned look of vexation on his face that Kit longed to see. Curtis was right. She proved him wrong. “But, I’m going to.”
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