that place.
The hallway was
a dead end; I turned to the door on my immediate right and tried turning the
knob. It wouldn't budge. My blood froze in my veins as claustrophobia and
memories of my year stuck in a room of locked doors collided in my head. I felt
dizzy and nearly went back to hide in the room I had just come from before I
realized I was being silly. It was understandable that a few doors would be
locked, especially in a place like this with a person like Kinga running
things.
Still, it took
me a few moments to regain my composure, and it only lasted for another second
before one of the doors behind me opened.
I yelped,
twisted around, and pressed myself into the wall behind me, fully expecting to
see Daman coming at me with his rancid breath forming a halo around his head.
It was not
Daman, it was a very short, very angry, red-headed man who didn't even appear
to see me, he was muttering under his breath "Yes, massah-Kinga, yes
massah-Kinga, of course massah-Kinga."
His quiet
tantrum stopped when he finally realized there was another human being present.
My fright still had me pinned to the wall and, obviously, my terror looked very
funny to the little man because he began to laugh. Not a chuckle, not a short
titter, not even a snort, this man full on guffawed. As in belly-heaving, red
faced, tears streaming, knees-buckling kind of laughter. Oddly, it put me at
ease and I giggled nervously, easing myself away from the wall and noticing
that I had backed right into a hinge and my spine was throbbing painfully.
Finally, the
laughing ceased and the man was able to control himself enough to speak,
"You're Ira, I assume."
"I'll
never get used to that name," I thought to myself. It reminded me of an
old man sitting on his porch with a shotgun in one hand, and some homemade
sweet tea in another. No images of eighteen-year old girls were provoked by the
name.
"Yes,"
I replied shakily, "that's me."
"Kinga's
really outdone herself this time," the man said to himself. He thrust his
hand out to me, "Name's Avery. Has been since birth, pretty prophetic on
its own. Elf ruler. Kinga tried to come up with a better one. Terrell she
called me, stubborn. I am not stubborn, I know what's right and I do it, and it
ain't right to take a man's name from him. I've been Avery since I was in my
mother's womb and I ain't goin' to insult her by goin' by anythin' else."
Towards the end
of his monologue, Avery had begun to slip back into an old gruff Scottish
accent.
"What's
your real, honest to goodness, name you were christened with?" Avery
asked.
"Alice
Beth Patterson," I whispered back. I didn't know why I said it so quietly.
It felt like I was saying a dirty word and didn't want my parents to hear.
"There's
no need to whisper!" Avery boomed, "No man or woman should be ashamed of their name or
identity!"
It wasn't like
he was talking to me anymore, and I realized he was trying to make someone
hear, I guessed his comments were directed at Kinga.
When no
response came, Avery shrugged and turned back to me, "What offed you?"
he asked bluntly.
I was taken
aback at the way he so casually asked about my death, I didn't even hesitate
before saying, "Car crash."
Avery shook his
head, "Awful thing. Suffered did you? My wife just popped me one in the
skull and I was gone. Bless her, never could've done it myself, good thing she
hated me so much!"
I felt my jaw
drop. Avery noticed and laughed almost as hard as before, "Divorce wasn't
as easy in my time," Avery said when he had gathered himself again.
I was about to
say something when I noticed a change in Avery's face, a quick look of
surprise, followed by a smirk of bitter contempt and a low bow,
"Massah-Kinga, how good of you to grace us with your presence."
"Terrell,
what have you been telling Ira?" Kinga asked, ignoring the derogatory
title Avery had given her.
"My name
is Avery, and she," Avery said, pointing at me, "is Alice. Ira is an
old man's name.”
"Names
have no
The hallway was
a dead end; I turned to the door on my immediate right and tried turning the
knob. It wouldn't budge. My blood froze in my veins as claustrophobia and
memories of my year stuck in a room of locked doors collided in my head. I felt
dizzy and nearly went back to hide in the room I had just come from before I
realized I was being silly. It was understandable that a few doors would be
locked, especially in a place like this with a person like Kinga running
things.
Still, it took
me a few moments to regain my composure, and it only lasted for another second
before one of the doors behind me opened.
I yelped,
twisted around, and pressed myself into the wall behind me, fully expecting to
see Daman coming at me with his rancid breath forming a halo around his head.
It was not
Daman, it was a very short, very angry, red-headed man who didn't even appear
to see me, he was muttering under his breath "Yes, massah-Kinga, yes
massah-Kinga, of course massah-Kinga."
His quiet
tantrum stopped when he finally realized there was another human being present.
My fright still had me pinned to the wall and, obviously, my terror looked very
funny to the little man because he began to laugh. Not a chuckle, not a short
titter, not even a snort, this man full on guffawed. As in belly-heaving, red
faced, tears streaming, knees-buckling kind of laughter. Oddly, it put me at
ease and I giggled nervously, easing myself away from the wall and noticing
that I had backed right into a hinge and my spine was throbbing painfully.
Finally, the
laughing ceased and the man was able to control himself enough to speak,
"You're Ira, I assume."
"I'll
never get used to that name," I thought to myself. It reminded me of an
old man sitting on his porch with a shotgun in one hand, and some homemade
sweet tea in another. No images of eighteen-year old girls were provoked by the
name.
"Yes,"
I replied shakily, "that's me."
"Kinga's
really outdone herself this time," the man said to himself. He thrust his
hand out to me, "Name's Avery. Has been since birth, pretty prophetic on
its own. Elf ruler. Kinga tried to come up with a better one. Terrell she
called me, stubborn. I am not stubborn, I know what's right and I do it, and it
ain't right to take a man's name from him. I've been Avery since I was in my
mother's womb and I ain't goin' to insult her by goin' by anythin' else."
Towards the end
of his monologue, Avery had begun to slip back into an old gruff Scottish
accent.
"What's
your real, honest to goodness, name you were christened with?" Avery
asked.
"Alice
Beth Patterson," I whispered back. I didn't know why I said it so quietly.
It felt like I was saying a dirty word and didn't want my parents to hear.
"There's
no need to whisper!" Avery boomed, "No man or woman should be ashamed of their name or
identity!"
It wasn't like
he was talking to me anymore, and I realized he was trying to make someone
hear, I guessed his comments were directed at Kinga.
When no
response came, Avery shrugged and turned back to me, "What offed you?"
he asked bluntly.
I was taken
aback at the way he so casually asked about my death, I didn't even hesitate
before saying, "Car crash."
Avery shook his
head, "Awful thing. Suffered did you? My wife just popped me one in the
skull and I was gone. Bless her, never could've done it myself, good thing she
hated me so much!"
I felt my jaw
drop. Avery noticed and laughed almost as hard as before, "Divorce wasn't
as easy in my time," Avery said when he had gathered himself again.
I was about to
say something when I noticed a change in Avery's face, a quick look of
surprise, followed by a smirk of bitter contempt and a low bow,
"Massah-Kinga, how good of you to grace us with your presence."
"Terrell,
what have you been telling Ira?" Kinga asked, ignoring the derogatory
title Avery had given her.
"My name
is Avery, and she," Avery said, pointing at me, "is Alice. Ira is an
old man's name.”
"Names
have no
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