And so, I did. We played nearly everyday for two and a half months, and in that time, the strange rumors began to still. Perhaps it was because Eliza and I would play hide and seek in the hedge maze, or make cookies together in the kitchen, that while the workers of the estate still found my case unexplainable; they at least thought that my actions were not grounded in bad intentions.
Maybe what was the most shocking to them, however, was that Eliza stuck to me more than anyone in the house.
"Flower!!" Bracing myself for impact; a hard 'thud' thumped from my chest as Eliza ran into my arms, her carefree giggle enough to cause real flowers to bud within my wintry heart. Though we hadn't known each other for very long, and though she couldn't get to know me in depth due to the fact that I still couldn't speak, we had grown fond of each other's company.
In my the back of my mind, I wondered if it was better that we couldn't communicate about anything more than in a superficial sense- after all, if she got to know more about me- something in me feared- she probably wouldn't like me as much as she does now. Right now, I was under the impression that she saw me as little more than a wounded puppy to play with; and while some may not like to be thought of as something so simple, I reveled in it.
When I was with Eliza, I could live in the present all while escaping the anxious terror which had long laid claim to my spine. Whether or not I would ever heal completely, what the condition of my appearance was like- worries such as these couldn't reach me when I had such a little angel dragging me around the estate to-and-fro.
Additionally, when Eliza was with me, I could tell she could lower her defenses and play like a normal child. If I had noticed anything in the past two and a half months from playing with Miss Eliza, it was that she was a kid who had a lot of weight on her shoulders.
Whether it was her etiquette or simply how she conducted her own thoughts and internal behaviors, I could tell that, for the mind of an almost six year old, she was dealing with more complex expectations than I would ever understand. As the daughter of Duke Warren, Eliza would need to worry more about her studies and actions. It was for that reason that Mrs. Baker had convinced Eliza to practice reading despite the heavy hatred she had for it, which led us to where we were now.
"'The Bird.... of.... Par-a-dise?... differs from.... the ci-der duck'," Eliza read earnestly, her heavy body sinking into my legs as she sat on my lap, the feeling in my muscles going numb. We had been sitting here for awhile as she read to me any stories she could find; the large tree of the garden offering us a quant shade to rest in while we were serenaded by the fluttering song birds. Her motivation for reading had certainly increased, and with it, her skill had slowly improved too. Before, she had to phonetically sound out all her words, but now, she was beginning to learn them as inherent units. Often times, she paused, and while I wasn't sure if her nanny noticed, I knew it was because Eliza was making sure all the words fit together before she said them out loud. It was from those small pauses that I knew Eliza wasn't entirely reading, but maybe more guessing and fumbling with her words than she wanted to let on.
But, more than she cared about that, she always made sure I liked whatever she was reading and that I had a firm grasp on the book- like now. It certainly felt strange to feel the hard cover of the book in my grasp; and though I tilted my head in its direction- I still couldn't see its pages or read its words.
I hadn't realized it at first, but due to a short passing comment from Mrs. Baker, I found out the real reason why Eliza suddenly wanted to read despite hating it so much.
"It must be terrible to be blind; there's so much she's missing out on."
Those words- which Mrs. Baker had been gossiping about to a maid in the garden while Eliza and I played, was overheard by the both of us. At first, the pity infuriated me, but now...
Leaning forward, I rested my chin on Eliza's shoulder as if I was engrossed with the page of the book; the same warmth from two and a half months ago nestling itself into my cheeks as I felt a timid smile taking root.
"'Its... Plu-midge... is exceed...ingly beautiful. The side... Feathers of the wing... float...'" Eliza continued to focus with all her might, and after finishing the sentence, let out a deep breath as if she had just ran a long distance.
"What do you think Flower?" Turning in my lap, the sudden movement of the bright lights in my vision felt like the sun was smiling down directly on me- like it were my own celestial gift. With Eliza reading to me, I wanted to tell Mrs. Baker, I wasn't missing out on a single thing.
All I could answer to Eliza with was a genuine smile and a grateful nod- because while I couldn't see what a Bird of Paradise looked like; I was sure that the bird in my imagination would be far greater and more beautiful than it could ever be in reality... Because Eliza was the one describing it to me.
In her fumbled words, I pictured a small chick with ruffled plumage- with fuzzy grey clusters of the softest feathers which tickled your skin at the faintest touch. Perhaps the chick was just beginning to grow in its adult look, because I imagined small specs of reflective azure blue and persimmon red which were sparkling on its little form like sapphires and rubies.
It wasn't fully fledged yet, but I reckoned that it would grow into a magnificent creature of legends if given the chance.
"I'm glad you like it." Eliza puffed proudly, her voice light and airy. Letting out a long yawn, I felt Eliza collapse further into my arms as she directed my own hands to close the book as if I were a toy doll. The motions felt awkward and directionless, but after a few moments Eliza had situated herself to laying her head on my lap and finicking with the fabric of my shawl, the slight movements of the threads tickling my sensitive skin.
"If Mrs. Baker asks, we finished the whole chapter, right Flower?" Her voice sounded so small and weak, and while I normally wouldn't go along with her attempts to skimp out on reading, just this once, I decided to concede to her wishes.
Nodding my head, Eliza let out a timid sigh before I felt her fingers pull on my hand before placing it on her head; my healed hands wrapped now out of habit rather than need. Holding back another chuckle, I mused that perhaps she was the puppy between the two of us, since she enjoyed having her hair stroked when no one was around to chastise her for 'improper contact'.
The chuckle resting in my chest slowly turned sour at that thought lingered; and I felt my own ounce of pity ache in the deepest cavity of my heart as I played with her hair. At her age, I had always followed around my parents demanding attention- whether it was in the form of hugs, kisses, or simply holding hands- but Eliza...
Eliza was all alone.
Something in my mind froze at the sudden realization that, in all our two and a half months playing together; she never once bothered her brother or her father. The lack of her childish selfishness made me angry- because it could only be the fault of two brutes to ignore a young child like that. Maybe Eliza had learned, just as I had, that those two didn't have the heart to care for much else besides themselves.
"I expect you also shall carry the weight of such a gracious favor." Duke Warren's words echoed across my mind faintly, and while I had been staying here so long, I couldn't say I knew what he had meant. What is it that he expects a blind and wounded person to do to 'carry the weight' of such graciousness? Not that I was too wounded anymore....
Stretching my back slowly, I could hear the bones crack as my muscles tensed satisfyingly- my skin finally healed enough on most parts of my body that I could move without the risk of deep, dry cracks splintering and shattering my skin like glass. It was reassuring; but where my skin had healed, in its place was a deep ache in my bones- especially my face. While bathing, I often tried to explore my features with the gentle touch of my fingers, but even the slightest pressure pained me deeply. I could feel a steady force pressing against my cheekbones which conflicted with the cartilage of my nose and the crease of my eyes.
Tracing my features with my left hand, part of me cursed myself that I wasn't familiar with my own face enough to know whether or not I truly looked different, or if I was feeling these phantom, over-dramatic experiences which were nothing but apparitions of a paranoid mind. The bandages across my eyes felt choking, and the hold I constantly pulled over my shedding hair was like the curse the ancient titan Doros experienced in fairytales.
Just like him, it felt as if there were a weight on my shoulders which was pulling me closer and closer to the underworld. I imagined it was so heavy that, if I wasn't careful, Eliza would be taken down with me like a sinking ship in the dark northern seas- after all, she was the one who was invested in me the most.
My mind drifted back to but a few days ago when Eliza wanted to change my bandages for me, and it had been one of the few times I had to decline her request. Deep down, I knew I was pushing her away, but it was only because I had come to rely on Eliza more than I was willing to admit.
Soft breathing swelled before falling back into a cadenced rhythm like ocean waves, and looking at the whitish, sprout-green hues which I had grown to take account of; I saw Eliza like she was my family- even though she didn't know we were technically sisters, and even though we didn't share any blood. Though it hurt me to focus too much on the sense of sight I had acquired, I took in every detail of her hazy outline like it was her true visage.
Skinny arms, stout legs- a round structure which was finished by a pointed chin.
It frustrated me that this was all I could gather about her for my memory- that I would miss out on the sight of her hair glinting in the sunlight as she plays in the yard, or that I would never know the exact shade to her eyes.
Like the little unfledged chick of Paradise; would I ever get to see my new little sister take flight?