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┏━━━━━━𖤐━━━━━━┓ chapter twenty one: lady things ┗━━━━━━𖤐━━━━━━┛
"Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream Make him the cutest that I've ever seen Give him the word that I'm not a rover Then tell him that his lonesome nights are over."
— Mr Sandman, The Chordettes
Marlene was seven years old when her grandmother died.
Ophelia Ter-Gabrielyan was a statuesque woman with a striking biography — she'd lived the life of an adventurer, a risk-taker, a passionate feminist, a researcher, a historian. Unfortunately, Marley learned all those things about her grandmother many years after her death. At seven, however, she knew only an old woman stuck in a nursing home.
Ophelia's long silver hair was secured into a thick braid and pinned atop her head, her once sparkling coal-black eyes serene with emptiness. She would always sit in a chair by the window that overlooked the forest, her sharp features mellowed by her old age and the malady that had rendered her brilliant mind all but blank.
Arthur visited his mother every Sunday. He rarely brought Marlene with him, but when he did, she'd sit on Ophelia's bed and simply watch her wrinkled, still face. At first, Marley was spooked by the strange old woman who never spoke a word, but the fear soon grew into curiosity — what was her grandmother thinking about? Sometimes Marlene'd see a corner of her thin, wrinkled mouth lift just a little, a flicker of her old self seeping back into her features. It was always so fleeting, however. Maybe Marley imagined it.
Arthur never said a word to Ophelia and neither did Marlene — it seemed strangely redundant, as though their presence alone said all that needed to be said. They would stay for an hour, and then her father would take Marley by the hand and say, "Come on, honey, your grandmother needs to rest." Marlene always thought it was strange — all the woman did was sit in a chair, why would she be tired?
She became more curious with each visit, and as she got bold enough to sit closer to Ophelia, Marley finally noticed the green pendant on her chest.
"It's so pretty," she said in awe, reaching for the shiny stone. Her small finger almost touched the bumpy surface when suddenly, Arthur's hand wrapped around her wrist, pulling her back. Marley hissed from pain, her eyes going wide wide with betrayal as she looked up at her father.
"You shouldn't touch it, Marlene," he told her. He'd never spoken to her like that before, and Marlene decided she didn't like it. And so she refused to speak to him on the ride home and for the entire day to follow.
After that visit, Marley would always sit close to her grandmother if only to look at the pretty trinket. There wasn't a day that Ophelia wasn't wearing it, the impressive emerald glowing from the perfectly pressed collar of her shirt.
