Chapter Five: Drowning

“Papa,” A little girl called out. Her hair was a vivid red color. She wore a simple cotton dress, shapeless and grey. Wait, was that me? She trotted around the first floor of the inn, searching for her father, er, my father. “Papa?”

I followed silently. I was invisible to them, nothing more than an observer.

A tall man scooped her up in his arms, Papa. “Jenny! What are you doing, sweet? I cooked lunch already. I wanted you to help me.” He kissed her on the forehead.

“I’m sorry, Papa.” She wrapped her small arms around his neck.

The inn’s guests came down for lunch. The only guests there at the time were an affluent family. Their daughter was a girl whom I’d had unpleasant experiences with.

I groaned. “Must I watch this day? Living it once is quite enough.”

“Ah, so you remember. Good! You were only a year above half a decade.” Sleepwalker chimed in, standing next to me. He reached his hand beneath his hood. Both of his hands were still intact, not even a scratch.

“Your finger looks better,” I noted with eyebrows raised. My shoulder ached even in my dream. The bruises down my forearm still remained as well.

“Yours does not,” He retaliated wryly. Drawing my attention to my swollen crusted clot along my finger, he laughed; I wondered where the bandages had gone.  “Do not fret, Genevieve.” Like sandpaper, his fingers clutched my injured finger. Roughly, he seemed to have pulled the illness from it.

“H-how did-” I marveled at the finger, but my head was yanked toward the scene.

He interrupted me, “Genevieve, I brought you here for a reason. Just watch!”

The daughter of the guests pushed away the meal that my father had given her. “Father, this is disgusting. I will not eat this slop.”

The younger version of myself pulled out of my father’s arms.

He pouted. “You don’t like me anymore?” When my young face fell, he laughed, “I only joke you, sweet.” Grinning, he ruffled her hair. “Go start on the dishes, Jenny.”

She groaned, “Must I, Papa? Shouldn’t I wait until all of the guests are done?”

“You are going to grow to be lazy, Jenny! Surely, you don’t want that?” He scooped her up and tossed her in the air while she was in a fit of giggles. “No?”

Little Jenny controlled her laughter. Her bottom lip stuck out in a pout. “I’ll go start.” Her small booted feet began to scuffle into the kitchen until her father lifted her.

“You are the best daughter I ever could’ve asked for. Never forget how much I love you, Jenny.” Those weren’t words my father said to me often. He never had to.

“I love you too, Papa.” She buried her face in his shoulder. “Does this mean I don’t have to wash the dishes?” When her father plopped her down with a chuckle and scooted her off, she knew his answer. Dejectedly, she resigned herself to the kitchen.

The scene, which unraveled before me was one I’d heard from my place in the kitchen, but had never seen until I was only a ghost in the room watching as a memory.

The father of the whining girl dressed in his classiest suit brought the bowl of food back to my father. “My daughter does not care for this. Perhaps you have something else to give her? Something sweet maybe? She likes sweets. I’m sure you have this problem with your daughter as often as I do,” He explained flatly.

Papa nearly laughed, “Jenny? Never, she is too quiet about her distastes. It worries me.” He grabbed the bowl from him. “I’ll fix that right for you. Get you something she’ll eat.” In a quick exchange, he reappeared in the lobby with a plate that held a small slice of pie on it. “That should fix that.” He grinned when the little girl ate it readily. “She’s cute. How old is she?” Papa queried. He turned his gaze to the man.

“She is seven. It is the age I told her of the riches to be hers. How old is Jessie?”

Papa corrected him. “Jenny is roughly six. Sometimes she acts so much older, you know?” He brushed off the bar. Then casually, he grinned down on the short man.

Thoughtfully and nonchalantly, he suggested, “Well, since Stella is older and Ginny acts older, maybe we should let the two chat for a bit, play a few games maybe.”

Papa huffed, a brusque sound. “Jenny hasn’t met too many girls near her age. Perhaps it’s a good idea.” He seemed hesitant though; maybe it was because he kept misnaming me. And even I was getting irritated with that. “Jenny!” He called back.

Young Jenny trotted out. “I haven’t finished the dishes yet, Papa.”

“I’ll finish them myself.” He laid a hand on her back to bolster or protect her. “Jenny, I want you to meet, Stella. Her family is staying at the inn.”

I recoiled. I wanted desperately to tell my young self it would be better to finish lathering dishes than spend a moment in the company of Stella.

“You regret this day?” Sleepwalker questioned, turning to me. “It’s amusing.”

I shrugged, reminding me of the ache in my shoulder. “It’s not that I regret it. It’s just that the girl is vile and spoiled and outspoken. We did not match up well.”

“Vile, spoiled and outspoken, everything you are not. Why do you think I am showing this to you?” His empty hood bored into my eyes.

A question burned into my mind. Before I realized it, it crawled up my throat. “Are you death? Sleep and death can be synonymous. Death has been told to be a hooded figure all in black. I am not to die, am I? Please say no,” I fretted.

“Typical. Would you calm yourself, Genevieve? And answer my question.”

I lowered my eyebrows. “Because you enjoy laughing at my discomfort?”

He mused on it. “Well, yes, but there is another reason. You are too passive. Perhaps you should assert yourself in the manner of our young friend, Stella.”

“I do not wish to be like her. She’s dreadful. If I were ever to meet her again, I may pretend not to speak Caligerian.” I cringed, praying to never be in that situation.

“Take a lesson, Genevieve. I’ll give you no one else to talk to.” He snapped his fingers. Particle by particle, he disintegrated westward like dust in a gentle breeze.

I sighed. I followed my young self outside where she looked as nervous as I remember being when I was she. “Poor Jenny,” I said with a shake of my head.

“What would you like to do?” She asked accommodating with a small smile.

Stella thought. Then she snapped, “Let’s play Cinderella.”

“What’s that?” Uncomprehendingly, my young self scrunched her face at Stella.

Her jaw dropped. “You don’t know who Cinderella is? Are you stupid?”

“Not that I know of… Who’s Cinderella?” She cocked her head, expecting an answer. She was so ignorant as to how upset she would be over Stella’s response.

“It’s a fairy tale. How come you’ve never read Cinderella?” Stella towered over Jenny, brown eyes bulging with shock. “It’s the best fairy tale out there!”

“I don’t think the whole world would agree with that. And…I’ve never read Cinderella or any fairy tale because I…I can’t read.” She was ashamed.

Stella laughed so hard, her cheeks turned red. She toppled to the ground. “You, you can’t read! That’s why you don’t know if you’re stupid! You’re a dunce! An idiot! You can’t read, idiot! I could write how stupid you are and you-you’d never know!”

Tears welled in my eyes from remembering how mortifying it was. The very reason I struggled through books when I was young was to never be as ridiculed as I was that afternoon, but of course, Stella’s joy didn’t end there.

Embarrassed to the point of tears, young Jenny sat, quiet. She drank in every hysterical cruel giggle of Stella’s, a noise that would haunt her and motivate her. “I don’t think it’s that funny,” She whispered softly. With her sleeve, she wiped her eyes.

“I think it’s funny. What does it matter what you think? You can’t even read!”

“Papa told me that it doesn’t matter if you can read or not and I’ll bet he’s a lot smarter than you are,” She fumed; I recalled resisting the urge to push her into the lake.

“But I bet your mother thinks you’re stupid! Where is she? I want to ask her.” Stella scampered back into the inn, searching for the innkeeper’s wife.

“You won’t find her in there. You won’t find her anywhere. Take it from someone who has looked before,” Little Jenny moaned glumly. She sniveled back tears.

Stella trotted back over. “You don’t have a mother? When Father hears someone say that, he mutters something.” Her voice became a whisper to curse. “B*****d.”

“Papa says I shouldn’t curse. He says it’s not ladylike.” Uncomfortable, she peered at her feet. Ladylike; I laughed. If only he’d known what I’d grow into…

“Ladylike? How could you be ladylike? You’re wearing boy’s boots.” Stella sneered. Her curly blonde hair was in disarray from her fit of laughter.

“Hey, Stella, look I know your mother and father raised you better than to be rude to others.” Papa bent down and rested a hand on her shoulder, gently scolding her.

She snarled back, “I’m glad someone as stupid as you isn’t my father!”

Papa was usually a tolerant man, but his face contorted in rage. “Come in and help me wash the floor, Jenny.” He took Jenny’s wrist and started to go inside.

“Papa, what’s a b*****d?” Jenny asked; he halted.

“A what? DID SHE SAY THAT TO YOU?” He yelled, spinning on his heels and heading back toward the girl.

“Papa, it doesn’t matter that much. Papa!” I chased after him clumsily. “Papa.”

He already had begun to yell. “You little worm! How dare you talk as such to my daughter! I ought to give you the licking your father never gave-”

Staring up at Papa, Stella decided that he was too formidable an opponent. Then she pushed the young me into the water.

Gasping, I shot up in bed. Deeply, I breathed in the cool air to assure myself that it wasn’t water. In my scramble, my shoulder exploded in throbbing pain. Resisting the desire to rub it back to health, I touched my feet to the floor. The cool ground eased my nerves once I stood. Silently, I clambered upstairs still in my nightgown.

The sun appeared to be nowhere near close to rising. The sky was dark. The lack of light bathed over the inn and with the combined ticking of the grandfather clock, gave it an ominous feel. It was unusually cool out, but there was a moist thickness in the air.

I crept outside to confirm my suspicions. Droplets pattered down on my head. With no one around, I put on a hasty and icy bath for myself. When I finished, somehow I managed to pull my arm back into the sling over my clothing. Lit by a dim lantern, I opened the book that Professor Lester had assigned, polishing off the last few chapters.  The tone in which it was written was too profound for me. It gave me a headache often, but I suffered through it. Because it was so factual, I wondered how she planned to discuss it. When I closed it, I stared at my finger in awe. The gauze was gone, exposing a completely unscathed digit. Not even the scar remained. I rested the book on my chest to feel the heavy pressure. Then I closed my eyes and breathed.

“I’m glad to see you take my assignments so seriously.” A light voice startled me.

After opening my eyes, I opened my mouth to defend myself. A worried expression was over my face. “I swear I already-”

She smiled, a small tug at the corners of her lips. “Jenny, calm yourself. I only joke. What did you think of the book?”

“I thought it was informational at the least, a bit dry. It was interesting though.” I adjusted myself on the armchair. Then I remembered this was the chair from my dream a few nights ago. “When do you leave, Professor Lester? That sounded rude. I meant when do the professors finishing convening?” I stumbled over my words with tire.

“I know what you meant. We are still here for another week or so. I have to sit through Andrew’s lecture tonight. That won’t be pleasant. His current research on the psychology of people in the twelfth year is fruitless and he knows that, but he’ll probably get funded again. I think I’ll teach at Dunver next semester. You should join me.”

Ruefully, I shook my head. “I couldn’t leave Papa. Why does funding and research matter? As a professor, shouldn’t the students matter most?”

“How I wish it worked like that. Going out to further research makes a professor much more desirable. They have more knowledge on what they speak of. And each is seeking to make his mark on his studies before he passes. It’s all very self-absorbed.”

“Forget what I said about wanting to be a professor. Now I’ve no idea what I want.” I slumped back into the armchair. “I might as well run the inn at this point.”

Professor Lester turned back to the window. “Jenny, why are you up so early? I thought I was the only one awake at such a dark hour especially on this dreary day.”

“I had another nightmare. I was watching myself as a child. I woke when I feared drowning.” I shuddered at the thought. “Sleepwalker was there again.”

She thought. “He is occurring in your dreams too much to be a figment of your subconscious. If you dream of him every night starting at about the same time the professors arrived, perhaps there is a correlation between the two.”

“Like what you said in the library a few days ago. You told me that every professor is familiar to you though, so he cannot just hope to avoid you every time.”

She pointed a finger at me, supposing. “What if he has disguised himself as a familiar professor? Based on your arm, it is clear that he is not above violence.”

“So what do I do in that case? It would be impossible to tell him from the real one. He wouldn’t put in so much effort to be sloppy about it. Maybe he’s not a professor. Maybe he uses some magic to sneak into the inn. That is, if he needs to be in the inn.”

“Nothing is for certain when we deal with mystical things like this.”

“How are you so sure that he isn’t in my imagination?”

Papa sauntered out from the kitchen. “Because Jenny, he’s been in my own dreams this week. He stands over me, laughing. Sometimes he whispers to your mother.”

“You’ve seen him? Why didn’t you tell me that? There are only so many ten foot tall cloaked figures that can appear in dreams!” I flailed my good arm wildly.

“I didn’t want to burden you with my dreams. That night that I made you bleed. It was him that I swatted away in my dream.” He avoided my gaze, lost in his thoughts.

“Are you okay, Papa?” I queried. Concern laid thick in my tone. I studied how pale his features had gone, how unsure. “Papa?” I repeated when no response was there.

“What am I to do with you?” He shook his head. His voice was somber. “Maybe his identity isn’t within the confines of this inn and maybe I’m too old to find it. When your shoulder heals, Jenny, you may find the answers to both of your questions. You can find your mother and the Sleepwalker.” He offered me a very grim and small smile.

My eyes lit up. Excitedly my heart fluttered. “Do you mean it, Papa? Can I?”

He nodded, drinking in my mood. “It pains me to do so, but it is best for you.”

Neglecting my wounded arm, I sprang up. I trapped Papa in a hug. “Thank you! Papa, thank you.” I buried my face in the rough cloth of his shirt. “Thank you.”

He patted my back. “Remember. Not until your shoulder heals. Now, I’m leaving it to you to find your map, plot out a route, and gather anything you may need to travel.”

“Well, there is one thing that I cannot find out on my own. My mother’s name.”

My father released me from the hug. “Of course. Her name. It perhaps is but a pseudonym, but she registered and introduced herself as Alia Pallas. Now that is all I know, so tell me. What do you plan to do next, Jenny?”

I was unsure whether his question was curiosity or a test. “I’ll find a city with a large archive of everyone in Caligeria… unless she’s not Caligerian. Maybe she’s from Varstat. The two are so small and close to one another. I was foolish to think I could find her. Forget I ever mentioned it, Papa.” I fidgeted my shoulder hoping to ease its ache.

He laughed. “You haven’t even started yet. How are you already discouraged?”

“It’s impossible like you said it would be. I-I don’t know enough. Her name is nothing if it’s fake and untraceable. How could you even think of sending me off?”

Until Professor Lester spoke, I almost forgot that she was there. “Jenny, did you learn nothing from our lesson a few days ago? You do not need to know everything when you go into a situation.” She reassured me with a grin; at this, I dropped my gaze.

“Yes, but going off to search an entire country is a bit different from arithmetic!”

Papa shook his head at me. “You may not have to search the whole country, but you won’t know until you pack your things and start looking. Now, where would have the largest archive of people in the country?” He queried, tilting my chin up.

I hesitated, “Eirodin, the capital city, but it’s such a journey…and I may not return for a long while…and-” I rambled on. My nerves had gotten the best of me.

“Shh, Jenny, you’ll be fine. You’ll gather all of the information you need. Then you will go on your travels. When you are satisfied with the work you have done, you may choose return home or simply mail me a letter.”

“I do not see how that is going to work.” I furrowed my brow.

Confused, he imitated my befuddled expression on his face. “And why is that?”

“Papa, you can’t read,” I stated bluntly.

“I see how that could pose a problem.” He scratched his beard. “Ah, I’ll figure it out eventually. You’ve got a lot of planning to begin tonight. For now, go…forget it. You can’t help much with your arm. It’s not like I’ll let you ch-” He stared at my finger. “Jenny, what did-how did…there’s not even a scar…” His mouth opened.

“In my dream last night, Sleepwalker healed me. It was infected,” I explicated. Nervously, I scratched the back of my neck.

Shrugging, he said, “I’d better get started on coffee and tea.” He began to head into the kitchen. He took one glance backward to me.

“Papa?” I ran up to him and hugged him tightly once more. Joyous tears formed in my eyes as I wrapped my arms around his neck. Simply I choked out, “Thank you.”

Author's Note

So, now, Jenny is actually going somewhere. Can you say plot, baby?