Maria sat at the end of her bed. By her feet sat her suitcase, its lid hung open as if yawning. She had yet to pack some of her belongings.
Her arms leant heavily on her knees while she stared at the ground. Her eyes felt puffy as if she had been repeatedly poked. Her breath still shook as she rubbed her eyes.
The nuns were kind enough to give her a week to organise herself before she heads home. They were not in any way rude or horrible to her, but there had been an intense demeanour shift since her audience with the Queen and the encounter with Raphael. She had been requested to get her affairs in order quickly and often instructed to return to her room whenever she ventured out.
She recalled her conversation with Mr Durand.
"I'm terribly sorry on behalf of the Queen and Queen's staff. I'm sure you can imagine how much of a shock it would've been for her also," he had attempted. "Perhaps, you would like to return? Perhaps under different circumstances? A more casual setting."
Maria politely declined the offer. Knowing herself that the Queen was right, she didn't want to endure an entire brunch or lunch or whatever royal people call their meals. Moreover, she didn't want to drag the Royal name through the mud anymore; she was done. She wanted to go home.
But one thing had gotten to her; it made the interaction most unappealing.
"If you do intend to leave without paying her Majesty another visit, I wonder if you'd be willing to part with that pendant of yours." Mr Durand was very kind about the request for the necklace, he explained how it belonged to the Royal Family at one point and gently suggested how, if she herself didn't believe she was the Lost Royal, it would be nothing more then a sad reminder.
Again, Maria declined the request.
His reaction was what was memorable to her. He composed himself as gentlemanly and offered an air of gratitude for her time, but she noticed a flicker in his eyes; annoyance. The curve of his smile faltered when she said no, and she noticed the half-second his jaw clenched.
She wondered why he hid his agitation.
After a while, she started packing smaller things, clothes she knew she wasn't going to wear and one pair of shoes. As she filled the suitcase, she froze. She crawled under her bed, searched the wardrobe and emptied her footlocker. She couldn't find her violin.
She groaned as she knocked her head against the bedframe. "I left it at Notre Dame…" her voice was muffled from the bedsheets. She knocked her forehead against the frame several times as she elongated her groan. She leaned away from her bed and rubbed the ache in her forehead.
"This is such a mess…" she grumbled. She tucked her knees under her chin and sighed. It had been a day since Raphael had left Anita at the church.
She was too frightened to see him, or at least see him alone. '…this is the last time I want to see you. To talk to you, ever. Do not come to me for help, do not come to me for protection from those Unknown Royals and do not come to me for some sort of friendship or amends.'
She wanted a reason to talk to him, to apologise, to hug him maybe. He was angry but passive last they spoke, but she knew he was close to tears. She recognised the pain and recognised the methods to hide it.
She lifted her head to the desk and saw her journal sitting closed. Sister Wendy had read her journal.
Maria felt stupid, a surge of anger rising as she snatched her journal and started ripping the pages out, regardless of the sentences. She tore them into small squares and turned them into a neat pile by the window. Halfway through the journal, her arm felt tired. She slouched in her chair and looked at the small pile, the breeze from the window, causing some to flutter to the floor.
Her anger lingered. She wanted to talk to Raphael, to find some way to apologise to him for what she's done. He may be glad to hear I'm leaving, she considered, He couldn't blame me for wanting to say goodbye at least. I don't care if he won't see me, I've got to try.
She stood up and walked to the door, throwing it open and running through the tower, down the stairs and into the courtyard, searching for Sister Wendy. As she walked through the garden, she saw the small school building. The door was closed, but through the windows, she saw the tops of children's heads and a nun standing by a chalkboard.
Seeing the building halted her, she clicked her tongue in thought and twiddled her thumbs, arguing something mentally before asserting herself and approaching the door. She felt her lungs tighten as she lifted her hand and knocked. There was a moment of silence as a small boy opened the door. He didn't greet her; he silently acknowledged her and returned to his seat.
She gulped as she stepped into the building, seeing five rows of seven, each seat occupied. The classroom was small and dull. The walls were a clean white, and everything was tidy and in its place. The children either sat on their hands or rested them in their lap, the girls' backs didn't lean on the back of their chair, and the boys looked virtually perfect, from their hair to their attire. Maria felt a sense of unease as the nun approached her.
"Yes, Maria, how can I help you?" she asked.
Maria didn't recognise her, but her voice croaked voice matched her wrinkled face. Her eyes unconsciously followed the wrinkle lines etched into her face, and doubted she had many from smiling. Her crinkles made her appear withered and older then Maria believed her to be. She forced herself to focus, "Umm, I wanted to just speak to Anita."
"I'm afraid she's not in this class, darling." Maria noticed the ruler in the nun's hand; it was gently tapping the side of her thigh, almost impatiently.
"In that case, do you know where I may find-"
"Stand straight, child." Maria felt the ruler press against her chin, forcing it up and straightening her posture. It was an unexpected motion that frightened her and made her jump back, scratching her chin.
"You will not get respect if your backs not erect." Maria gulped at the recite as she approached the doorway.
To appease her, Maria fixed her slouch and bowed her head. "Do you know where I may find Anita?" She chose her words carefully, worried she would be a speech Nazi.
The Sister slapped the ruler against her hand, not aggressively, but Maria saw the children flinch behind her back. "I believe she is with Sister Wendy in the Common Room. Going over some details of her adoption."
Maria's eyes widened in surprise, "She got adopted? So quickly?"
Maria worked at the orphanage in her town and sometimes knew it could take weeks, perhaps months, for a new child to be adopted on their own unless it was part of an adoption day or a showcase of the orphans, which Maria had not seen since she arrived. Anita getting adopted the day after she was forcibly admitted surprised her.
She thanked the nun and swiftly left the classroom.
Maria approached the common room for the nuns, between teaching and church activities the Sisters would often swarm to this one room to relax with their books or their current sewing endeavours. Maria remembered the first day here when she attempted to stitch some clothes with no success.
She pushed open the door without knocking and saw the room bare of people aside from two; Sister Wendy and Anita. Sister Wendy looked to the door; Anita was doing some needlework and hadn't even lifted her head to see her.
"Maria," Sister Wendy stated. She closed her book and rested it in her lap as Maria approached.
"Good morning, Sister Wendy," Maria breathed. She approached the chairs the two sat in, Anita still focused on her needlework. "Hello, Anita."
"Hi, Maria." She continued stabbing the fabric with the needle, not meeting her stare.
"Anita," Sister Wendy's voice had a vicious snap to it, "We look people in the eye when we speak to them."
Anita made a shallow sigh as she placed her needlework on her lap and shuffled in her seat to face Maria.
"Hi Maria," she repeated before she returned to her craft.
Anita had a better flair for knitting and needle hospitalities then Maria. The small circle of fabric she was given was decorated almost entirely with elegant and complex designs of flowers tied together by a green ribbon.
Maria kneeled by the arm of Anita's chair and marvelled at her work.
"Oh my…" for a moment she was speechless, "That's truly lovely, Anita."
Anita's smile seemed genuine as she stuck the needle between some thread and passed it to her to have a better look.
"I only started it this morning," she said.
Maria was shocked, "This morning? How is that possible? It's so intricate?" She ran her fingertips over the little details of the roses.
"It's just maths," Anita informed, "And finger coordination. I haven't done this in a long time, but once I got the hang of it, I found it was easy enough to do quickly."
Maria looked to Anita's hands for signs of needle pricks, but her hands were smooth to the touch and scar-less. "I heard you're getting adopted soon."
"Indeed, she is. We just got word of a couple who've come to Paris in search of a child. Very specific in their request, they wanted a little lady with blonde hair of around ten years old." Sister Wendy seemed happy by the details, "They should be here by the end of the day."
Maria frowned as she passed the needlework back. "Why so specific?"
"They didn't dwell on it," Sister Wendy informed. "They told me how they have other children, three boys and one girl, all blonde. I assume it's to even out child genders and make her look more like family."
"Because heaven forbid anyone recognises they have an orphan as a child," Anita mumbled.
"Anita!"
"My apologies, Sister." Her apology was almost mechanical.
"It was like they asked for Anita specifically." Sister Wendy seemed more excited then Anita at this information, in her old age displaying her giddy with light applause.
"I do hope they don't mind I'm eleven, not ten," Anita countered half-heartedly.
"Oh, you're short for your age, darling. You'll be fine."
Maria was stunned by how efficient it had all been.
The door to the room opened with a loud creak as Sister Guinevere entered the room in all her red-haired glory.
"Sister Wendy, you're needed," she informed promptly.
"If you girls will excuse me," She placed her book on the table and rose, "Keep with your needlework until I come back."
The girls were left alone. The only sound was the quick motion of the thread being pulled by Anita's needle. Maria sat where Sister Wendy was, across from her.
Anita spoke first. "Why are you here, Maria?" she asked, eyes staying on her work.
"What do you mean?"
"Are you just here because you feel bad?" Anita clarified.
"What? No, of course not."
"You're allowed to," Anita informed, "Feel bad I mean. It would make sense if you wanted to make sure I was okay." She lifted her head and gave a small smile, "I won't be mad if that's the case. But I'm not the one you should see if you're looking for redemption."
"You mean Raphael?" Maria noticed a basket by her armchair, full of napkins, needles and pastel-coloured threads; it appeared to be an embroidery basket. She picked one up.
"You accelerated the process. I knew Raphael would never adopt me or anything, so I was always going to be up for grabs by an orphanage. If not this one then another one if the police ever found me," she explained, "This was bound to happen sooner or later I suppose." Anita stopped to watch Maria's own needlework, which she admitted was awkward. "That's why I'm not the one you should approach if you want to feel better. I'm not mad at you."
"Neither is Raphael apparently," Maria replied as she attempted to weave a similar pattern to whichever Sister had started her napkin.
"Is he okay?" Anita sniffed.
Maria looked up and noticed Anita's sudden change; her eyes were glassy as if she was about to cry. She slowly put the napkin down, "I don't know, I haven't seen him since yesterday."
Anita smirked, wiping her eyes as she sighed, "I doubt he'll come here to visit me before I head out. Probably for the best." Her hands scrunched into fists, but not tights fists. "When do you think you'll be leaving?"
Maria shrugged. "Not quite sure. Maybe tomorrow or the day after at the latest."
"Do you think you could stay until I leave?" Anita asked, her request followed by a frightened pair of eyes.
Maria nodded, "Yes, of course. When do you think that will be?"
"I'm meeting them today," Anita informed, "Or rather they're meeting me to see if I'm suitable or loveable enough today. If all goes well, which the Sister thinks, I'll be gone by tomorrow afternoon, the day after at the latest."
"So soon…" Maria managed.
"Yeah."
Maria felt a sense of awkward hang in the air as the silence that followed lingered. Anita didn't seem bothered by it, but Maria filled the silence. "Going from no siblings to four, that's got to be exciting, right?"
Anita shrugged, "I was going to be a big sister before," she stated matter-of-factly.
"Wow… I'm so sorry," Maria replied.
Anita shrugged again, "It was a long time ago. I don't know how I'd feel having siblings." Anita continued her needlework. "How would you feel if you've had nothing your whole life aside from friends, and then suddenly you're expected to fit into a completely different family, without said friends?"
Maria felt a strange nausea wash over her, "I would probably feel terrified, maybe a little out of place, but excited. Because a family is a family."
"Even if this family doesn't live in or near Paris?" Anita asked, "If there's no chance of me ever seeing my friends or my life if I go?"
"I guess…" Maria searched for the right sort of words, but Anita was a special case. "Sometimes you need to do what's best for you. And if you want to keep your friends, your life, keep in contact. Write letters, tell their stories and remember them, I suppose."
Anita didn't respond; her hands stuck mid-thread. "Can you come with me to meet them?" She sounded small and frightened. Her head hung low, and her shoulders slouched, the needle trembled slightly in her small hands despite how tightly she gripped it.
Maria slid off her chair and kneeled before Anita, "If you need me, I will."
Anita sighed and nodded, "I appreciate it. I just don't want to meet them by myself."
Maria wanted to hug Anita, and tell her that she was okay and that everything will be okay. But Anita leaned away from Maria as the door opened and Sister Wendy entered.
"The parents are here, Anita. Are you ready to meet them?"
Anita looked over to them and nodded, "Yes. I'm ready." She delicately placed the needlework on the table and walked over to the nuns. Maria pushed herself to her feet and followed briskly behind them.
Sister Wendy was going towards a room Maria had never been in before. It was a plain square room with two windows, allowing the grey light of Paris to ooze in, one large wooden and three matching chairs. Two on one side for the incoming parents and one for the child opposite them. When they arrived in the room, the parents were already there.
The man had a stoic demeanour displayed by his brown suit and moustache. He had broad shoulders and was the tallest in the room. He examined the view out of one of the windows. The woman was seated and appeared much more maternal. She wore a modest dark grey tweed dress with buttons done up all the way to her chin; this seemed to prompt excellent posture, which in turn emphasised her immaculate beauty. Not a hair was out of place, her red lipstick was prim, and her dark hair was tied tightly into a perfect bun. They seemed like a perfect, well-together couple.
Maria's mouth suddenly felt dry at the sight of them.
The parents each noticed Maria and gave quizzical looks.
"Not to sound rude, but I was under the impression this interaction involved only the child and yourself, Sister Wendy. Why is she here?" The woman's voice was on the verge of accusation, not sounding the least bit impressed.
"That is my fault, I'm afraid," Anita replied with a similar tone. She approached the desk and sat down, mimicking the woman's composure. "She's the closest thing I've got to a trusted colleague now. I've never been a part of one of these meetings and quite frankly would prefer a familiar face when I get interrogated by you two."
Maria wanted to facepalm herself.
Not a good start, Anita, she mused.
Back at her own orphanage, she had been requested to sit in on meetings like this as a sort of moral support. She knew what to say and what not to say to appeal to potential parents, and accusing them of interrogating you was not one of them.
Sister Wendy gave a nervous laugh as she held Anita's shoulders, "Please forgive her. Up until a few days ago, she was living with an unruly young man. This is just a big adjustment for her." Maria could see the nun's fingers turning white from how hard she clutched Anita's shoulders. Yet she did not flinch.
The mother nodded, "I can understand that. But it's not very nice."
"Why must I be nice?" Anita countered, "If I were nice, I would be dishonest, would you rather I be dishonest?"
"I would rather you be polite," she replied firmly. Her hands rose onto the table, decorated by a gorgeous ring, as she held them together. "Whatever misgivings you have are entirely understandable and entirely your own. But I will not sit here for the half-hour and be ridiculed by you simply because you have some issues outside of this meeting right now."
Anita seemed to freeze. She stared unblinking at her new potential mother and eventually raised an eyebrow.
"Did you tell them anything about me?" she asked, turning her head to Sister Wendy.
Sister Wendy seemed happy as she shook her head, "No. Not a thing."
Anita shrugged off the nun's touch, her eyebrow still raised. "What makes you think an eleven-year-old would've understood a single word you've just said?"
The woman offered a smile. "You've demonstrated that you're a bright little girl, Anita. I may as well talk to you like one."
Anita blinked, pushed back her chair and approached the man still standing by the window.
"Hello, my name is Anita Dane," she introduced, holding out her hand.
The man took her hand in his and shook. His hand encased Anita's easily. "Christopher Alexandra."
Anita took back her hand and repeated this gesture to the woman. "Hello, my name is Anita Dane."
The woman gave her a slight head bow as she shook her hand. "Pleasure. I'm Olivia Alexandra."
Anita returned to her chair and sighed through her nose. "If I were adopted by you two, would my name honestly be Anita Alexandra?"
Maria couldn't suppress a smirk, like all the other adults in the room. Maria could sense the slight annoyance behind the little girl's words, but Mr and Mrs Alexandra were both amused.
"Isn't she delightful, darling?" Olivia Alexandra said.
The man finally took his moment to sit down, and they started talking to her. Answering any questions Anita had about them and the other kids that they had.
"Do you have any pets?" Anita asked.
"Yes, indeed. We have two cats, and our youngest Quindlen has a hamster named Jericho." The woman's voice was sweet.
"Are all your children biological children?" Anita asked.
"Yes."
"Then why are you suddenly adopting now?"
There seemed to be a moment's hesitation between the couple before the woman answered, "It's my choice. I recently miscarried a child, and I just want another child in the house."
"Hmm…" Anita hummed. "How recent is recent?"
The silence which filled the room made Maria feel nauseous.
"I don't see how that matters-" Anita cut off Christopher.
"It matters because the last thing I want to endure is a surface level sense of contempt for replacing a child," Anita spoke softly. Maria assumed she understood the sensitivity of this topic. "I just don't want anyone to hate me."
The couple took a moments glance. "About a month or so ago," Olivia eventually said.
Anita shifted in her seat, "I'm sorry for your loss."
Sister Wendy stood by Maria and nudged her, "I think perhaps you should take your leave now, darling. Let her see she can do this on her own."
Maria was initially against the idea of leaving, but Mr Alexandra repeatedly caught her eye and held it. She broke away from it several times, always to find it again. She concluded he was watching her. She felt uncomfortable but didn't want to leave Anita.
But she seemed to content talking to them.
Maria approached her chair and leaned over to speak to her quietly. "I'm going to get going, okay, Ann?"
Anita turned her head and nodded, "That's fine. Are you going to go see him?"
Maria nodded, "Yes, probably."
Anita nodded again and sighed, "Say hi for me." She turned her attention back to the Alexandrea's.
The statement was blunt, Maria almost thought she was joking, but Anita ignored her presence and paid attention to the couple. The woman asked about her nickname, "Ann? Is that with or without an E?"
"Without," Anita replied simply.
That was the last Maria heard as she closed the door behind her.