The Retiring Room
he was in the process of staining her lips again when Cerise spoke.
It helped to have something to do with her hands. She might have once tried to get Cerise to join her; she had, plenty of times, while attempting to fix her hair. Once, she had thought – hoped – that the silly girl might come to her for guidance.
She hadn’t, but Eleanor had, finally. It had been a few years; she hadn’t really taken to it after that, even then. It had been nice, still, standing elbow-to-elbow in the mirror. It had been the first time in Eleanor’s memory she had seen Diana bare-faced, and they had spent the whole time giggling. Here, she’d said, with Eleanor tittering at the cool cream and the brush of the rabbit hair on her cheeks. You and I look very much alike, Ellie, and I know just what would look…
Cerise stood behind her in the mirror, her narrow face pale against her wild dark hair. She had often thought Cerise should take more of an interest in cosmetics; now, the thought seemed strangely sad.
She looked down, putting the lip color back. “He seemed surprised to discover that he had a wife, as well,” she said, even more quietly.
She shut her eyes. The beginnings of her headache had not receded.
She opened them. “I’m sorry, my dear. I shouldn’t have said that.” She stood straight, smoothing her skirt and smiling at her reflection again.
She wasn’t sure if she was imagining it, but she felt there was something subtly uneven about it. The stain was heavier on one eyelid than the other, perhaps. She never looked quite right after crying.
The moment she turned, she thought she caught something flitting across Cerise’s face. It was gone, or perhaps it had never been there. He isn’t going to get better. Diana’s face was a pleasant sort of blank, but she smiled a sad sort of smile when Cerise spoke again.
“No,” she said. “He isn’t.” Anatole’s sharp, lively caprise was only one of the many things she missed. “The clairvoyant conversation, as I understand, has given him a great deal of balance in the last year. I should think that balance is all any of us can seek; I think that he has worked – hard – at getting better in his own time, in his own way, even if he isn’t…”
She shouldn’t have said that, either. Don’t be ridiculous, my dear, she should have said. He’s already recovered so much; why, you should’ve seen him in Yaris the year before last, he couldn’t walk, he couldn’t even speak –
Her lips were pressed thinly. She relaxed as best she could, then took a step closer, brushing Cerise’s strong field with her own. “He tells me he plans to see you in Mugroba this rainy season,” she said instead.
She had meant it as a lightening of the mood. With how Cerise had spoken of it, though that seemed a surprise to him, as if her father hadn’t remembered her at all – but she couldn’t say how her voice had come out, in the end. There was a deeply private ache in her chest; for Cerise to be privy to a tenth of it was horribly unsettling. She thought, He speaks of you, now, at least, and couldn’t say it. She thought, too, Will you come and stay the weekend at least once before you go, my dear?
Instead, she held still; she smiled.