Christopher WunderLee - Moore's Mythopoeia

“That was not me,” Haddie said with finality.

“…then you disappeared… some said your astute family had had enough and launched a campaign themselves…”

“I have never,” Haddie began.

“You seem to suggest there was some history,” Graham interpolated.

“…a veritable annal…”

“Which was?”

“…for me? …or the various others?”

“I’m confused,” Haddie blanched, “what exactly are you saying?”

“Only my recollection…”

By now, the main course was brought in, and the diners quieted while the staff served the winter squash risotto and duck leg confit with roasted autumn apples and cranberry jus.

“So you once knew Haddie,” Graham continued once all had plates and the servants had retreated.

“No…” she stammered, “he did not . I’ve never been to that salon, there was never any crazy time like that, and my parents… you know,” looking to her husband, “never…” she broke off.

Graham was plainly agitated. Joseph/Demain remained sipping spiked cucumber water, his raised foot bouncing, as if at ease. Elisa watched only.

“Well?” Graham persisted.

“I have no wish to cause mischief… it was an entertaining time… she was an entertaining girl…”

“I never met you,” Haddie insisted.

“I will tell you,” Graham said after some silence, as if his voice was deep within his throat, “I do not take kindly to tests of my wife’s virtue.”

“Oh… this is no test sir… merely testimony… from a former admirer… a former…”

“I’m afraid you are mistaken,” unexpectedly dropping his fist against the table.

“He is… you are,” Haddie affirmed.

“Perhaps he is,” Elisa mediated.

“Ah… I am mistaken… since I am mistaken… I am probably wrong as well that she has a skin discoloration… just below her left breast… slightly larger than a saucer…”

“That is visible when I wear a bathing suit.

“…I am mistaken then that she has slightly larger than one would expect areolas that rest high, causing the gentle slope of her chest to then curve…”

“Again, a bathing suit might…”

“…I’m mistaken of four prominent moles on her back… one on her left shoulder…”

“You can see that one right now.”

“…that her morning routine, as she prepares herself for the day, as well as her evening custom, when she prepares for the bed, includes some half hour of nude adoration before a full-length mirror…”

“That’s not,” Haddie squealed, “lots of women…”

“Sir,” Graham broke in, “I suggest you stop…”

“…I am wrong as well that her two… lilacs, in full bloom… peak out from her feminine tresses… always…”

Graham staggered.

“…and that when one attends to them, causing them to nectar, she makes a distinct, how shall I put it, suckling noise with her mouth…”

Elisa, her eyes on Graham, saw the plunge, his waxen complexion, his shoulders dipping.

“…that she sweats profusely when nearing her personal… exhale…”

“How do you?” Haddie whimpered. “Know these…”

“…that her private flavor is tangy, sharp, not sour, but fragrant… mellifluous initially but giving way to tartness as she releases…”

“Enough,” Graham growled. “I don’t know how… how you came upon this information, but…”

“It’s not true,” Haddie began.

“It is true,” her husband barked.

Elisa could see the rim of Haddie’s eyes ponding with tears, her chin trembling.

“When was this?” Graham demanded, his head hung, looking up to his prey.

“…no reason to bother dear host… really, we’ve all… dabbled… all had our share of liaisons…”

“When?” He shook.

“Let’s calm down,” Elisa counseled.

“I will not,” Graham snarled, briefly turning to his sister. His eyes were distant, burning. Haddie sobbed to herself. “Explain.”

“…it was a winter salon… as was the ritual, she wore strapless crepe gown…”

“How long ago? When?”

“…two, maybe three winters ago…”

“And you?”

“…we found ourselves paired… the second, maybe third round… she had… well, she had already been chosen by two others…”

“None of this is true,” Haddie sniveled.

“…when their time came… she caught my eye… she did not hesitate… when she was chosen… she laughed… no qualms… no hesitation… so when it was my turn… it was her…”

“For what?” Graham spat out.

“…I think it best to leave it at that…”

“No,” he glared. “Finish.”

“…it was to retrieve a cherry… that was my task… chosen by the others… from her… I suppose this intimacy… after… it was easy to… when the time came to… when people were pairing up… we…”

Graham moaned, his head lowered.

“…I lost track of her after our… she went left… a pretty singer… I think she was a singer… she was next for me…”

Haddie shook her head expressively, “This is not true.”

“…but afterwards… I tried to find her… I was told she had left… with someone else… however, when I departed, she was waiting with him for his car… I swapped the one on my arm for her… through a bargain… he would get her first the next time… and took her to my studio…”

“And?” Graham sneered.

“…she stayed… we…”

“You?”

“…fucked some more…” almost apologetically…

“Get out.”

All three recoiled with Graham’s command. Elisa glanced up at Joseph to catch his response. He was smirking slightly. She realized Graham had turned his head to the right, he was staring at Haddie.

“Get out,” he threatened.

“Graham? Please, I…” she began to lean towards him.

“Get out. Don’t come near me. GET OUT.”

“But, I didn’t… I don’t know…”

“I DON’T WANT TO HEAR IT. You have nothing to say to me. Get out. I never want to see you again.”

“I don’t know what’s happening, Graham. I didn’t do anything, I was…”

“GET THE FUCK OUT. GET OUT. NOW.”

“Graham? No.”

“YES, you make me sick. GET OUT.”

“I wasn’t, I didn’t do anything; it wasn’t my fault.”

“Leave now or I’ll have you thrown out.”

“Graham… please…”

“GET OUT, get out NOW.”

“Please…” she begged.

“No, go.”

Haddie dissolved, shivering, sobbing, unable to move.

Elisa went to her, clutching her shoulders, assisting her to her feet, receiving the young woman who crumpled into her chest, imploding.

Elisa led her out of the room, leaving Joseph and Graham. The two sat in silence. After a few moments, Joseph poured himself another glass of cucumber water and ground two tablets into it. Graham didn’t move, his head in the lectern of his palms.

“…oh hum…” Joseph sighed.

The room was still until a wail caused Graham to cringe. They could hear her, out in the main hall, crying. She sounded like a child, unable to hold in her unmanageable misery. Graham’s fingers stroked his forehead roughly, leaving red lines, scratching his skin. She bleated, collapsing in sputtering coughs. They could hear Elisa’s Frostian murmur inveigling her. There was a loud thud, as if something had been dropped. Haddie screamed for Graham, screamed his name twice. They could hear her sobbing, saying no, saying his name, and the sound of bodies, holding her back, pulling her to the door, as she fought, cried, screamed. Graham did not move. His fingers pulled through his hair, over his forehead. The tragic din in the hall rose, Haddie shrieked, bawling, screaming for Graham, before it grew hollow, distant. There was the final noise of the great door closing, and they couldn’t hear her anymore, only the sound of footsteps. Elisa entered the room, appearing drained, disheveled.