Meri (The Two Moons of Rehnor)

  The Two Moons of Rehnor

  Novella Collection

  Meri

  By

  J. Naomi Ay

  Published by Ayzenberg, Inc.

  Copyright 2012 Ayzenberg, Inc.

  All Rights Reserved

  090513

  Cover Design by Amy Jambor

  Also by

  J. Naomi Ay

  The Two Moons of Rehnor Series

  The Boy who Lit up the Sky, Book 1

  My Enemy’s Son, Book 2

  Of Blood and Angels, Book 3

  Firestone Rings, Book 4

  The Days of the Golden Moons, Book 5

  Golden's Quest, Book 6

  Metamorphosis, Book 7

  The Choice, Book 8

  The Beginning, Books 1 - 3

  Mid Vita, Books 4&5

  Novella Collection

  Lydia's Dance

  Taner's Running Game

  Meri

  King of the Streets

  Diridan's Daughter

  Caissa's Favor

  Thad's Mistakes

  Space Doctor

  Big Red

  The Journey to Rehnor Series

  The New Planet, Book 1

  Aran's Gift, Book 2

  My Story

  I had the misfortune of being beautiful. From the day I arrived as a small pink bundle placed into my mother's welcoming arms, everyone was stunned by my beauty. Wherever I went, strangers would peer into my pram and exclaim that I was the most perfect child they had ever set eyes on. My elder sister was far less fortunate than I. She had pale almost colorless blonde hair, whereas mine was a luxurious chestnut with highlights in both gold and red tones. My hair curled in angelic waves around my heart-shaped face whilst my poor sister's hung in straight limp tresses that no amount of teasing could encourage to curl. My sister's face was long in the manner that some would say resembled a horse and her eyes were a pale and ordinary shade of blue. My eyes, lined by thick sultry lashes, were a dark amber color that turned almost gold when I was in a joyful mood. My sister, it was said, was sorely in need of cosmetics to bring out her fair eyes and to darken her pale complexion, whereas my beauty could simply not be enhanced. Unfortunately, as a child, Jayne had to suffer her ghost like appearance and suffer she did, threatening to kick anyone who complimented mine. Eventually, Jayne discovered my beauty might be used to her benefit and requested a coin from each stranger who begged to touch my curls. Jayne acquired a tidy sum in this manner, occasionally tossing me one coin for every ten or so she collected. Since I was three years younger and enamored by my older and more worldly sibling, I gladly accepted her compensation without complaint.

  I was a happy child and an inquisitive one, always running here and there, giving chase to birds and kittens or anything else that might wander into my path. My mother grew tired of my robust activity and would direct poor Jayne to follow me about or tether us together with a leash between our wrists. At the park, I would pull poor Jayne up the slides and across the swings, torturing her with my pursuit of adventure such that she could do nothing but follow. When Jayne began school, I truly think it was a relief for her to escape from me. Joyfully, she trudged off, her book bag slung across her shoulder. She would return in the early evening and seek to taunt me with descriptions of her lunch and snack. I would listen to her descriptions of a tray filled with cheese wrapped hotdogs and fruit in a cup, a square piece of chocolate cake with vanilla frosting across the top. I seethed with jealousy for these delicacies that would be denied me for a few more years. I would frown sadly at my own lunch of sliced toast and a bit of jam or if Mother had an extra coin or two, I might be rewarded with an egg.

  Mother worked although she never elaborated on her profession. As far as I ever knew, she gave treatments to men. During the day, the men came to our flat and were administered these treatments in Mother's room. In the evening, when Jayne was home to make sure I didn't fall out the window or set the place afire, Mother made house calls to those who required her service. Some days she came home with boxes of chocolates or extra coins. Other days, she was gifted with purple bruises or cuts upon her face. Once, Mother returned home with her lips swollen and grossly oversized. A front tooth was missing, and another was broken in half. She stood before the kitchen rinsing salted water in her mouth, spitting out gobs of bright red blood and cursing a man's name. Jayne and I watched fearfully from behind the pantry door. Afterward, Mother's smile was never quite as beautiful. In fact, as time wore on, as my own beauty seemed to blossom like a rose, Mother's faded and became more damaged until it was only a shadow from the past.

  Until I was six years old, I never recalled a father in my life. The only men with whom I was acquainted were those that came to visit with my mother. While waiting their turn for her attentions, they might sit on the floor with me and play. They could stack a block or roll a ball. Most chose to sit and watch the vid, laughing with me at the dancing and singing clowns who praised the benefits of consuming fruit. If the fathers tried to touch me or encourage me to sit on their lap or hold their hand, Mother would usher them out the door forfeiting their appointment for services with her. When I began to attend the same school as Jayne, I discovered that the absence of a father was a handicap in several ways. Fathers, I learned, went off to work and returned with bags of coins with which mothers purchased delightful things to eat at dinner, as well as lunch. Fathers took you to the park and chased you or played your games. Fathers tucked you in bed at night and kissed you on the check while wishing you the sweetest of dreams. If a spider happened to crawl on your wall, a father would come to capture it. If a shoelace broke, or a bicycle tire went flat, a father fixed those, as well. Fathers attended your school presentations and applauded loudest of all. As I sang in my first grade winter recital, I realized only Jayne was applauding for me.

  "It doesn't matter, Meri," Jayne insisted as we walked home in the dark. "Everyone knew you had the most beautiful voice. Truly, you sounded like a robin. You're the most beautiful, too, and you always have been. It doesn't matter that we have only one parent." I clutched my sister's hand as I held on to her words and believed everything that she said. One parent was fine, especially when she was as good as our mother and I was blessed to have Jayne by my side.

  Only two years later, our mother produced a father by introducing us to one of the men who had partaken of her daily therapeutic sessions. He was a heavy set fellow well into middle age whose whiskers were always sharp and protruding although he claimed to shave daily. When Jayne and I returned from school in the afternoons, he sat waiting in our flat for his midday meal and welcome home kiss. The meal was easy to prepare, he simply wished for an open bottle of beer and a bag of crispy chips. The kiss was a challenge that both Jayne and I had to endure. His cheek was far too prickly to make this small deed even remotely pleasant, and his lips were too moist and clammy, so we sought to avoid that area, as well. While Jayne aimed for his ear, I pointed my mouth at his forehead but somehow he always managed to catch me midstride and smack my lips with his own.

  Mother thought this kissing game both humorous and generous on Father Bertram's part. As neither Jayne nor I had experience with fathers of any sort, we assumed this was a normal practice when one returned home for the day. Bertram worked occasionally though not often as he had a bad back. A disc had slipped and remained wrongly positioned thereby preventing him from laboring.

  "It's because of this he needs Mother's therapy," Jayne concluded. "She's like a nurse, you know." I nodded and repeated Jayne's theory to the few classmates with whom I spoke. I didn’t understand when they laughed and teased calling out to me, "Your mother's not a nurse, she's a whore."

  "Don't
pay attention," Jayne insisted but refused to answer when I questioned what exactly was wrong with that. As I had understood it, a whore took care of men. A nurse took care of women as well, a small differentiation in my mind. In any case, Bertram did not stay as our father for very long. Jayne and I returned home one day to find his chair vacant and mother in her room, a large purple bruise blossoming like a flower upon her cheek.

  "I told him to go to work," she explained, her words angry but not at Jayne and me. In fact, she drew us into her bed and together we lay upon her sheets. Mother cursed all men for their lassitude and their slovenly ways so Jayne, and I joined in the game and shouted out our own grievances at the masculine sex. As Jayne was ten and I was seven, our list wasn't very long. It consisted of things like picking their noses and farting too much in school.

  "The boys in my class are stupid and noisy."

  "The ones in mine never blow their noses."

  "The men I am around never wash their faces or clean their teeth and hair."

  "At recess they run and fight with each other."

  "At lunch time they all throw their food."

  "They want me to kiss them in every possible place, and when I don't they won't give me a dime. I'm sick of them hitting. I'm tired of their demands. I wouldn't care if I ever saw another man again."

  "Not me either," Jayne cried. "Who wants a father? Not Meri and me."

  "Not at all," I agreed. "Girls are the best."

  "We're fine just as we are." Mother held us tight in her arms. "We three girls are all that any one of us needs."

  Mother did not hold true to her word as after Bertram there were at least three fathers more. Harold was next followed by Lucas and then Anson was the one whom I recalled last. By the time Anson moved in to our small humble flat, Mother was ill with the Disease. Her body had grown weak, her skin hung in folds, and her eyes were like those of a lizard. She couldn't work anymore, frankly she needed treatments herself. Both Jayne and I took her to the hospital clinic for some medications which they refused to give.

  "We can't help her," they said and ushered us away. "Your mother has the Disease with no cure. She has five years to live, perhaps as long as eight. She had better start putting her affairs in order."

  When Anson moved in, Mother thought he could help out. He had a job collecting trash on the street. He brought home old furniture and knick knacks we could use, but his money was all spent at the bar. The situation became dire when Jayne was in eleventh grade, and I was still only in eight.

  "You'll have to go work, Jayne," Mother insisted as by now, she spent all day lying in bed. "It's the only way to get money as Anson won't share. If you don't, the landlord will soon kick us out to the street. You're not beautiful, Jayne, but you can learn what a man needs and you can do it as well as another. If you get really good at it, you'll have clients lining up, and they'll pay you well to keep them entertained."

  "I don't want to," Jayne declared and burst into tears for Jayne was the studious sort. She read her school books and even books that were not required to be read. She did puzzles and solved math equations in her spare time. "I want to be somebody better. I want to study and go to school. Someday, I might even become an engineer. I want to go to the University. I want new clothes and a vid. I want a cellphone and even a speeder."

  "What are you talking about, Jayne?" Mother snapped. "Are you out of your mind? Girls from Old Mishnah do none of that. Only girls from the new city with wealthy parents and good jobs can have all the things that you mentioned. Your choice is simple, Ugly Jayne. You can learn to work the streets or you can apply at the Palace to be a maid. Meri is far more beautiful than you, but her options are equally as few. I will hear no more of your foolish, teenage dreams."

  "Yes, Mother," Jayne replied, folding her chin into her chest for she had made our sick mother quick agitated. Mother spent the rest of the day with a cool compress upon her head and multiple large glasses of her favorite beverage. When Anson returned that evening, he joined her in their bed while Jayne and I played scrabble with bits of paper.

  "I can't stand this," Jayne declared when Mother screamed as if she were in pain. "If she's so sick why does she insist on treating him?" I had no clue how to answer as I was a very young and naïve thirteen. If Mother screamed in pain it was because, I assumed, she was.

  "Should we stop him?" I suggested. "Should we tell him she's too weak to do whatever it is he's doing to her?"

  "No," Jayne shook her head, "it's her choice, and it's not one I'm going to make. Tomorrow, I'll go to the Palace and ask for work."

  "Can I come with you, please?" I begged. "I want to work, as well as see the Palace. It's always been my dream to visit that beautiful pink marble building on the shore."

  "It's quite a long walk as we have no money for a city bus. It'll take hours just to get to there from here. Furthermore, you need to go to school for a few years more."

  "Please Jayne. I swear I won't be a bother to you at all. Let me come. You know I hate school and find it dull."

  "What if they hire me there on the spot and I must stay and immediately go to work. How will you return home without me to lead your way?"

  "I'm thirteen and practically a full grown girl." I tossed my chestnut curls in waves about my head. "Perhaps they will instantly hire me as well, and we both can be maids together."

  "You're too young, Meri," Jayne insisted. "To be a maid at the Palace you must be at least fifteen."

  "But I'm beautiful everyone says and can pass for a girl a few years older. I'll just tell them I am fifteen. They'll never know unless you report that it's a lie."

  "Meri," Jayne sighed and started to pack her bag with her clothes. I fetched my only bag as well and put my few belongings within.

  "I'm going with you, Jayne, regardless of your protestations."

  "Meri," Jayne held my shoulders. She looked me in the eye and in her own was a tiny tear. "Understand, your beauty does not work in your defense. Rather, it's a danger, especially in one so young. It shall make you more susceptible to those on the street and to the guards in the Palace who want a girl. Take my advice and stay home where at least our mother can protect you." I didn't respond as I had already made up my mind. I would follow Jayne even if she disapproved as I had nothing else. There was only our tired, invalid mother and fat Anson who just sat on the couch. In the Palace, I might discover a whole new life. There was a beautiful princess just about my age. Perhaps, I could meet her, and we would become friends. I would become her personal maid and spend my days brushing her hair and folding her clothes. When she grew tired of this dress or that, she'd give it to me because I'd be her very best companion. I imagined us sitting in the evenings our heads together as we gossiped about the boys in the guard. Someday when she married a handsome prince I'd be the one to hold her train.

  She'd say to me, "Meri, you're too beautiful to be a maid. You should be married to an earl or duke." Then her father, the King, would find the perfect companion for me. I'd be matched to a man of the King's choice and discover that my duke was truly a prince. We'd instantly fall in love and be happy together all our lives. My duke would build me a great estate in the north and a lovely summer home on the coast by the sea. I would bear him four beautiful children who would be best friends with the Princesses. Perhaps someday our children would marry. My own daughter might become a future Queen. I had it all planned out to perfection, all I needed was a job.

  The next morning, Jayne and I left early. It was pitch black as it was well before dawn. We walked the streets of Old Mishnah in the rain under the light of flickering yellow gas lamps. It took six hours just to reach the Palace's gates, and when we arrived there was already a long line. Men and women, as well as boys and girls, all stood waiting in hopes of getting a job. When dawn finally broke on the horizon, and the Palace emissary paced up and down our line, he stared at each and every one of us in our wet and ragged clothes.

  "What do you wish to do in the Palace," he asked
the boy in front.

  "Be a page, kind sir, if you please?"

  "We have no need for any more pages just kitchen staff. Can you wash a dish or peel potatoes?"

  "Yes sir, please sir," the boy in front begged.

  "Go inside then ask to speak to the Master Chef."

  "Thank you, sir! I will, sir!" The boy ran through the gates.

  "What about you?" The emissary approached Jayne.

  "A maid, sir, if you please?" Jayne curtseyed very nice. "I'm educated and well-read and can carry on a good conversation."

  "We don't need that," the emissary replied. "The best maid knows she must keep her mouth shut. What about you?" He turned to me and waved my sister away.

  "Anything you want, sir." I curtseyed, as well. "I can wash dishes or sweep the floor. I can be a maid for the young princess or anyone else."

  "You seem fitting. Go inside and ask for housekeeping. They'll be happy to give you a broom."

  "What about my sister, sir" I inquired before I left. The fine gentleman walked on and ignored my question. "Come on, Jayne." I waved her to follow. She shook her head, her eyes filled with tears.

  "No one ever wanted me, they only wanted you."

  "Jayne?"

  "You're the beauty and you've always been. I am nothing but ordinary ugly Jayne. You'll have a life now within these walls, and I have no choice but to work the streets."

  "Come with me," I begged. "Don't go."

  "Will you obey, girl, or shall I toss you out too?" The emissary pointed at the Palace gates.

  "Go Meri," Jayne called. "Take this chance to be better than we were raised. I'll see you some time at a future circumstance." My sister turned and walked away, leaving me alone in front of the gates, so I took this chance and entered the marble palace that would become my home.