Imp’?”
“A nickname.”
Jerry leaned back against the counter, waiting for the much-needed coffee. “Your English is excellent, for a Russian Princess.”
Ana leaned forward, her elbows on the kitchen island. “My Great-Grandmother was Victoria, Queen of England. My mother insisted that we be fluent in both languages, in addition to French. Until our last few months, when our captors forbade it, Mother preferred to speak English with us in our own quarters. As for my title, I am, or was , in fact, a Grand Duchess, not a Princess. I have always thought of princesses more as characters from fairytales.”
“Sorry. My Russian history is a bit weak, to say the least.” The single-serve coffee filled the cup behind him.
“Please do not worry yourself over it, Jerry. I neither asked for the title, nor did I ever really enjoy using it except in play. Call me Ana, please. And you may not know Russia’s history, but I do not know Russia’s predstavit’ —present—so we both have much to teach each other.”
Jerry glanced at the wall clock. Eleven o’clock. “Sorry, but I have to be at work soon, Ana, so I’m afraid the lessons will have to wait. Make yourself at home. It’s been almost a hundred years since your . . . since you were . . . it’s a new millennium but ghosts still aren’t all that common. Matter of fact, you’re my first.”
“It is my first time, too. What year is it, Jerry?” The sadness in her voice broke through Jerry’s confusion.
“The year? Now? 2016.”
“Twenty-sixteen? Two thousand and sixteen?” Her sadness became deep loss. Her entire demeanour deflated. Her shoulders sagged, her head hung down, and her clasped hands trembled.
“I’m sorry, Ana. What I’m trying to say is that you might not want to let anyone else see you. Hell, I don’t even know if anyone else can see you.”
“I understand. I will remain here, Jerry. I have a great deal to think on. To the world it has been nearly a century since my family was murdered in cold blood, but for me it feels much more recent.”
“I hadn’t thought of that. How much do you remember?” He sipped his coffee, welcoming the heat as it pushed a little against the damp of Victoria’s winter. “I’m sorry. Would you like a cup?” He nodded at his own steaming cup.
“No, thank you. I am not certain if I can.” She frowned, thinking about his question. “I remember quite a lot, but as a wise man once said, ‘I do not know how much I cannot remember.’” She leaned close, her voice lowering. “I am boyashchiysya —afraid—Jerry. I do not think I should be here. Why am I? Where am I?”
“Where? That’s easy. Believe it or not, this is Victoria, British Columbia, Canada—the city named after your great-grandmother. As for ‘why’, I have no idea, but we’ll figure it all out. In the meantime, relax. You’re safe here—I live alone, except for the fish, Sushi.”
“Sushi?” She said the name slowly, smiling. “Such a gentle, beautiful name.”
Moving to the couch, Jerry picked up the remote control and turned on the television. “Maybe, but it means a Japanese rice dish often topped with raw fish.” The date, time, and channel appeared briefly on the flatscreen as it started up.
Ana clapped her hands, excitedly. “So this is not a dark mirror after all!”
“It’s a television. Sometimes the stuff on here is violent and depressing, but there are a few chuckles—laughs—to be had, too. Think of it as radio, with pictures.”
“Or motion pictures with sound,” Ana added.
“Exactly! This is the remote control.” He held it up for her to see. “These two buttons change the channels—there are over two hundred. The buttons are all labelled. Enjoy.”
“I will.” She sat on the other end of the couch. “My sincere thanks, Jerry. Now, should you not be preparing to go to your workplace?”
“Definitely.” He put the remote on the table in front of Ana and got
“A nickname.”
Jerry leaned back against the counter, waiting for the much-needed coffee. “Your English is excellent, for a Russian Princess.”
Ana leaned forward, her elbows on the kitchen island. “My Great-Grandmother was Victoria, Queen of England. My mother insisted that we be fluent in both languages, in addition to French. Until our last few months, when our captors forbade it, Mother preferred to speak English with us in our own quarters. As for my title, I am, or was , in fact, a Grand Duchess, not a Princess. I have always thought of princesses more as characters from fairytales.”
“Sorry. My Russian history is a bit weak, to say the least.” The single-serve coffee filled the cup behind him.
“Please do not worry yourself over it, Jerry. I neither asked for the title, nor did I ever really enjoy using it except in play. Call me Ana, please. And you may not know Russia’s history, but I do not know Russia’s predstavit’ —present—so we both have much to teach each other.”
Jerry glanced at the wall clock. Eleven o’clock. “Sorry, but I have to be at work soon, Ana, so I’m afraid the lessons will have to wait. Make yourself at home. It’s been almost a hundred years since your . . . since you were . . . it’s a new millennium but ghosts still aren’t all that common. Matter of fact, you’re my first.”
“It is my first time, too. What year is it, Jerry?” The sadness in her voice broke through Jerry’s confusion.
“The year? Now? 2016.”
“Twenty-sixteen? Two thousand and sixteen?” Her sadness became deep loss. Her entire demeanour deflated. Her shoulders sagged, her head hung down, and her clasped hands trembled.
“I’m sorry, Ana. What I’m trying to say is that you might not want to let anyone else see you. Hell, I don’t even know if anyone else can see you.”
“I understand. I will remain here, Jerry. I have a great deal to think on. To the world it has been nearly a century since my family was murdered in cold blood, but for me it feels much more recent.”
“I hadn’t thought of that. How much do you remember?” He sipped his coffee, welcoming the heat as it pushed a little against the damp of Victoria’s winter. “I’m sorry. Would you like a cup?” He nodded at his own steaming cup.
“No, thank you. I am not certain if I can.” She frowned, thinking about his question. “I remember quite a lot, but as a wise man once said, ‘I do not know how much I cannot remember.’” She leaned close, her voice lowering. “I am boyashchiysya —afraid—Jerry. I do not think I should be here. Why am I? Where am I?”
“Where? That’s easy. Believe it or not, this is Victoria, British Columbia, Canada—the city named after your great-grandmother. As for ‘why’, I have no idea, but we’ll figure it all out. In the meantime, relax. You’re safe here—I live alone, except for the fish, Sushi.”
“Sushi?” She said the name slowly, smiling. “Such a gentle, beautiful name.”
Moving to the couch, Jerry picked up the remote control and turned on the television. “Maybe, but it means a Japanese rice dish often topped with raw fish.” The date, time, and channel appeared briefly on the flatscreen as it started up.
Ana clapped her hands, excitedly. “So this is not a dark mirror after all!”
“It’s a television. Sometimes the stuff on here is violent and depressing, but there are a few chuckles—laughs—to be had, too. Think of it as radio, with pictures.”
“Or motion pictures with sound,” Ana added.
“Exactly! This is the remote control.” He held it up for her to see. “These two buttons change the channels—there are over two hundred. The buttons are all labelled. Enjoy.”
“I will.” She sat on the other end of the couch. “My sincere thanks, Jerry. Now, should you not be preparing to go to your workplace?”
“Definitely.” He put the remote on the table in front of Ana and got
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