wip
The Georgia July heat was bearing down on my skin so fiercely that I could have swore that hell was slithering from below to the Earth's surface to try to take us prisioner. But hell wasn't upon us, it was my Uncle Thomas' famous July 4th celebration at his plantation, which was worse. The men were inside smoking and talking politics while we (my mother, aunt, cousin Shirly, and myself) were walking around the garden before afternoon tea was served. As we turned a corner in the maze of flowers, the sun glared at me angrily and I glared back, earning a sharp rebuke from my mother.
"Victoria, stop scowling."
"The sun is in my eyes."
"Well lower your hat, silly girl, that is what it's there for!"
I resentfully pulled the huge straw hat further down on my head, being careful not to 'ruin' my hair. I slowed my pace to be behind them, so I could scowl all I wanted, but Shirly moved as I had and was right beside me. She was quite a few inches taller than me and had high cheekbones and full lips that were her best attributes but it was her eyes, black as night, despite her long blonde locks, fair skin, and genetics, that could cause a man to fall in love with her or cower in intimidation.
"Lovely day," she said. I shook my head.
"Shirly, we are in full length lace gowns in 95 degree weather strolling in a garden..empty of any substance except beauty, like those irises."
She looked down at me with her eyes and I realized my mistake in an instant.
"Not to say, of course, that -"
"A flower, beautiful and elegant, admired by every creature that walks by it, envied by every bush or tree that palls in its wake. If given the choice, I would much rather be an...empty pretty flower than a useful swamp plant, wouldn't you agree?" Her black eyes narrowed on me.
"Yes, I daresay it would be unpleasant to be a swamp plant."
We walk in silence and I look out at the servants setting up the tables and canopies and streamers - the plantation always looked magical this time of year, as much as I hated to be in it.
"I feel like one of the Bennett sisters. So elegant and ladylike," she said looking at the fountain facing the house away from the garden, away from the face I was making.
"Thats what I dislike about today," I muttered.
"What was that dear Victoria?"
"I said, that is what I like about today. A time capsule, back in the days when grandmother was a girl - do you remember the stories she would tell us about living on this plantation?" Shirly smiled. I had won, for now. She nodded and began recounting one of her favorite stories. One of balls and social dancing, of greed and deciet, of mindless gossip and the entitlement of ownership men thought they had to women. I saw the ugly truth in everything Shirly loved hearing. The blood on the wall covered by the tapestry, a morbid metaphor indeed. And every Fourth of July, my Uncle seemed to bring it all back, like 1941 was a lifetime away and the Great Depression (which this family hardly survived) is in the unthinkable distant future, leaving only shallow social activity and major gender role divisions.
[Your beautiful, whats your name?
Victoria
Thats an old stuffy name, a face like that deserves a name fitting of it, like Rose
A rose by any other name would still smell as sweet
I reckon thats true. if we called them cowpies I'd probably still love picking them all the same
I was quoting shakesphere
oh that old english fellow. beg your pardon mam i didnt know thats what you were speaking of. I never got past the 3rd grade so all i know is how to read the paper and figure my taxes. i may not know any of billy shakespheres books or the science that makes the universe, but i know that there is a gorgeous woman standing in front of me and i know that if i let you walk away without asking for this next dance, that i would sure be a fool]
"Victoria, stop scowling."
"The sun is in my eyes."
"Well lower your hat, silly girl, that is what it's there for!"
I resentfully pulled the huge straw hat further down on my head, being careful not to 'ruin' my hair. I slowed my pace to be behind them, so I could scowl all I wanted, but Shirly moved as I had and was right beside me. She was quite a few inches taller than me and had high cheekbones and full lips that were her best attributes but it was her eyes, black as night, despite her long blonde locks, fair skin, and genetics, that could cause a man to fall in love with her or cower in intimidation.
"Lovely day," she said. I shook my head.
"Shirly, we are in full length lace gowns in 95 degree weather strolling in a garden..empty of any substance except beauty, like those irises."
She looked down at me with her eyes and I realized my mistake in an instant.
"Not to say, of course, that -"
"A flower, beautiful and elegant, admired by every creature that walks by it, envied by every bush or tree that palls in its wake. If given the choice, I would much rather be an...empty pretty flower than a useful swamp plant, wouldn't you agree?" Her black eyes narrowed on me.
"Yes, I daresay it would be unpleasant to be a swamp plant."
We walk in silence and I look out at the servants setting up the tables and canopies and streamers - the plantation always looked magical this time of year, as much as I hated to be in it.
"I feel like one of the Bennett sisters. So elegant and ladylike," she said looking at the fountain facing the house away from the garden, away from the face I was making.
"Thats what I dislike about today," I muttered.
"What was that dear Victoria?"
"I said, that is what I like about today. A time capsule, back in the days when grandmother was a girl - do you remember the stories she would tell us about living on this plantation?" Shirly smiled. I had won, for now. She nodded and began recounting one of her favorite stories. One of balls and social dancing, of greed and deciet, of mindless gossip and the entitlement of ownership men thought they had to women. I saw the ugly truth in everything Shirly loved hearing. The blood on the wall covered by the tapestry, a morbid metaphor indeed. And every Fourth of July, my Uncle seemed to bring it all back, like 1941 was a lifetime away and the Great Depression (which this family hardly survived) is in the unthinkable distant future, leaving only shallow social activity and major gender role divisions.
[Your beautiful, whats your name?
Victoria
Thats an old stuffy name, a face like that deserves a name fitting of it, like Rose
A rose by any other name would still smell as sweet
I reckon thats true. if we called them cowpies I'd probably still love picking them all the same
I was quoting shakesphere
oh that old english fellow. beg your pardon mam i didnt know thats what you were speaking of. I never got past the 3rd grade so all i know is how to read the paper and figure my taxes. i may not know any of billy shakespheres books or the science that makes the universe, but i know that there is a gorgeous woman standing in front of me and i know that if i let you walk away without asking for this next dance, that i would sure be a fool]