Chapter 3.3 - Meeting the Cousins

As she approached the oak tree she saw the strange tall man standing there, in the nook between its gnarly roots. He stared straight at her, or rather through her at something beyond her physical appearance, not searching for anything, but rather with the delighted curiosity of someone who discovers small details in a painting.  

At first Claire couldn’t figure out what felt strange to her about his presence. The air around him seemed heavier, as if it had a different density, and surrounded his body in a transparent bubble which bounced back light at different angles like beveled crystal. The bubble stuck around him even as he moved, extending gooey wisps in the process and shifting colors from transparent to white to purple and back, and it looked alive, almost like an extension of his person. At some point, when he shifted his position abruptly, she could swear she had seen a pair of purple wings.

The tall man’s gaze met her eyes, briefly, but long enough for Claire to notice that his irises had a metallic sheen, liquid and constantly shifting like quick silver. Deep in the back of her mind she noted that whatever this being was, it definitely wasn’t human, but most of her consciousness was frozen in some sort of suspension of reasoning which compelled her body not to move. She tried to verify if that was indeed the case and tried to force herself to blink or something, only to realize her immobility had no physical reasons, but rather it was imposed by her own will: for some reason it felt very important to her at the time not to move from the place. She had no explanation for this, but she didn’t doubt it, like one doesn’t question whether they should draw the next breath. 

The young woman didn’t look directly at him, still shaken by the shifting surface of his eyes, but noticed that his demeanor was relaxed, arms folded on his chest, giving no sign of an intention to approach her. His face was very familiar and Claire was startled when she realized why: it was almost like looking in the mirror at a male version of herself.

She could tell that there were others, all around her, whom she couldn’t see, a welcoming committee of sorts to a reality she knew nothing about. As she stood there, frozen in place, with her bare feet planted in the grass, she felt roots sprouting from the bottoms of her soles, breaking the ground and reaching deep into the earth, bright roots of light and fire eager to reconnect with the molten core that birthed them.

A giant light ball hit her eyes, wiping out everything that wasn’t light in the process, and Claire felt a gentle touch on her shoulder, gentle but insistent. A flash of lightning blasted her eyes when she opened them, and it took her a while to get her grandfather’s face into focus, although she didn’t miss the fleeting shadow that moved quickly out of the corner of her eye. A deep earth shaking rumble followed a few moments later.

“Wake up, Claire,” grandfather urged, “the rain is about to start. It’s almost four, your grandmother has set the table for coffee on the porch.”

Almost four! She’d been sleeping under the oak tree for over three hours, a time line that didn’t jibe with the length of her dream, and that bothered Claire in her weird attempt at rationalizing things that didn’t stand on reason. 

“You seem scattered, bebelle,” Grandmother mentioned. The young woman was still trying to gather herself, she felt fuzzy and unfocused, like she was a little cloud herself. She frowned and shuffled in her chair, in search of a more comfortable position. Sleeping on the ground had put a strain through her muscles and joints and her body was achy and stiff. She scanned the landscape, absent minded, and her eyes stopped on a patch of bright purple gleaming with raindrops under the oak tree: it was a fresh clump of sweet violets which seemed to have sprouted from thin air. Grandfather dropped his cup on the saucer with noise to bring Claire’s attention back to the table.

“You should never fall asleep outside! Never, you understand me? Especially not under that tree!” he leaned very close to Claire in a manner that felt menacing.

“Joseph! You’re scaring her, stop this very instant!” Grandmother intervened, outraged.

“You stay out of this Celeste, somebody has to protect this family!”

Grandmother retreated in a resentful silence. 

“Why are you so upset, Grandfather?” Claire tried to understand the reason for the unexpected family drama. “I spent half of my childhood under that tree,” she tried to explain, but Grandfather didn’t let her finish.

“And I will never forgive myself for allowing you to do that,” Grandfather got up and left, angry.

“What did I do?” Claire whispered to her grandmother, who was still sulking, staring at her coffee cup.

“Oh, don’t mind that, child. Old people enjoy airing out their grudges every now and again. Old story, nothing to do with you.”

“Are you sure?” Claire asked her grandmother, staring intently at the latter in search for an answer. 

“Am I growing feeble or were those flowers not there half an hour ago?” Grandmother tried to change the subject, bewildered by the sudden appearance of the violets.

“I don’t think they were,” Claire thought, really not sure about it. Her mind was still tangled in the morass of her weird experience and she found it really hard to focus on real life details. “I had a dream,” she uttered, out of the blue.

“Really?” Grandmother continued sipping her coffee, uninterested.

“It was about that man,” she continued.

“Claire,” Grandmother put the cup down on its saucer with a deliberate gesture, “I told you there is no man that fits that description, you made him up, child. Why don’t you help me with dinner this evening, get your mind off of things,” she got up and started to move the cups and saucers to the tray. Claire grabbed her arm to persuade her to sit back down in her chair.

“I am a grown woman, maman, whatever it is, you can tell me.” Grandmother hesitated, looking deep into her granddaughter’s eyes in search of something. She couldn’t find it, so she dropped her gaze and her facial expression went back to neutral.

“It’s nothing, dear. Old wives’ tales, your grandfather became quite superstitious after your mother…After she left.”

“You never want to talk about my mother. What was she like? What happened to her?”

“As I said, she left,” Grandmother cut her off abruptly. “She wanted to choose her own path, your grandfather didn’t approve of her choice. He will never be shaken from his conviction that I encouraged her, but that’s not true. People will do what they need to do in order to follow their fate. Besides, the seventies were a strange time,” she said, and refused to build up on the story, despite her granddaughter’s prodding.

“What about my father?” Claire insisted, but this turned out to be a subject which really upset her grandmother, who dismissed the whole issue with an irate gesture.

“Can you at least tell me about the local lore? Surely that’s not a secret!”

“I’m sorry, bebelle, but I made a promise to your grandfather a long time ago that I will never speak of it with you. I can’t break that promise.”