Mami told me that thyme is the herb for the fearful. Egyptian slaves would use it to embalm the bodies of the dead gentry to help them stay intact into the afterlife. Fair medieval maidens would give it to knights to make them brave in battle. Pagans would place it over graves to ensure safe passage to wherever their souls were going. Thyme is a disinfectant. All the superstitions lead back to that. To prevent nightmares, slip a few thyme leaves under your pillow. To wash up a Greek Revival townhouse, mix it with castille soap and lemon.
Fitcher thinks I clean the floors every Friday but I do it more often in the summer. I strip to my undergarments and scrub with cold water. It's immodest but the heat in here is unbearable otherwise. Besides, I lock all the doors first. On my first day of work Fitcher gave me the keys to every room in the house. He even gave me a key to the garret where he sleeps and studies, except he made it clear that I was never to use it, not if the house was burning down, not if a rogue Patriot came to seize his copy of "Violence, U.S.A.". I didn't ask why. I still don't question anything he does. It's mutual. He only questioned me once since I started working for him.
Fitcher's house seems larger inside than out. I still don't know how to live in it. Before Fitcher hired me, I'd been cloistered in the attic above Mami's apothecary. It got hot in there, too. I'd lie down on the floor and listen to the voices below and follow them from the window as they went back to their lives. At one point I was afraid to go to the window. Boys from the neighborhood would see me. They yelled things I didn't understand. "Don't say anything to them," Mami said. "Not a word. And don't you dare try to meet them. They'll be on you like crows on a corpse." It didn't matter. After a while the boys either got disappointed or disinterested because they stopped coming. So I took to the window again. Eventually Mami handed me a bucket and a brush and told me to make myself useful. I was already on the floor, I might as well scrub it. I was already at the window, I might as well wash it. My dress lay fresh over my headboard as my brush and my rags traveled over the same surfaces over and over, as the governor's daughter quietly begged for black cohosh so that a Scientist's child would die inside her, as Mami offered the Family Protection officers bags of her finest morning glories.
Now I have my own bedroom and washroom. Fitcher has his garret, there's the kitchen, and seven other rooms that are completely empty. I don't think Fitcher knows how to live in his ow
house, either. Sometimes I think he has another house somewhere, one where he keeps his furniture and his guests come to call.
It's hard to believe that he ever had a wife. The whole reason I was hired was to care for her. By the time I met him at the train station, she was already dead. Fitcher said he'd written to me but I hadn't received any letters. I was devastated. I couldn't go back to Mami.
"I can help you," I said. "I'll get a job and send my wages to you."
"If you want help me out, fine, I'll let you manage the shop."
"But I want to get out of here!" I cried.
"So that's it. You think you can fend for yourself out there.
"That's not my fault. You made me this way!"
"Excuse me?"
"The only thing you've taught me is how to break the law and bribe my way out of any consequences. It wasn't exactly hard to figure out. I could turn you in right now if I wanted to."
Suddenly my face stung. My own Mami had slapped me.
"You think I want to live this way? You think I want to be I'm scared all the time that someone might take you away from me? I am doing what I can. People go to herbalists when they want something a doctor won't prescribe. Maybe I have to break the law sometimes, but I've given you everything you ever needed because of it."
"Mami, it's not--"
"There's nothing out there."
"Mami, please."
"I have an appointment on N. street tonight. I'd be stupid to hope you'd be here when I come back," she said. Just before she left, I saw her bite her lower lip. Mami loved me.
There was no telling how long she'd be gone, but I had to act quickly. I pulled books off the shelves and scribbled into my notebook whatever looked like a formula. There was no telling which ones were medicinal and which were poisonous. I'd figure that out later. I grabbed bottles out of the cupboards and stuffed them into the bag I'd just sewn. It made no difference whether they were filled with imported spices or twigs from the garden. I took the three that smelled the best--violet, oil of myrrh, cardamom--the three that smelled the worst--valerian, hemlock, and jimson weed--and the three I knew were useful--sweetbalm, thyme, and rosemary. For good measure, I threw in a bottle of linseed oil and a mortar with a broken pestle. At the time, these sounded like logical selections.
I wanted to scream, but I let the anger simmer inside me instead.
I almost left her my newly and crudely cut braid. But that would look like I'd wanted to hurt her, and I didn't. Not really. Besides, it was impractical. The gold plait was cashed in to the wig-maker's for my train ticket. I walked to the station with the bloody light of the setting sun behind me.
Fitcher thinks I clean the floors every Friday but I do it more often in the summer. I strip to my undergarments and scrub with cold water. It's immodest but the heat in here is unbearable otherwise. Besides, I lock all the doors first. On my first day of work Fitcher gave me the keys to every room in the house. He even gave me a key to the garret where he sleeps and studies, except he made it clear that I was never to use it, not if the house was burning down, not if a rogue Patriot came to seize his copy of "Violence, U.S.A.". I didn't ask why. I still don't question anything he does. It's mutual. He only questioned me once since I started working for him.
Fitcher's house seems larger inside than out. I still don't know how to live in it. Before Fitcher hired me, I'd been cloistered in the attic above Mami's apothecary. It got hot in there, too. I'd lie down on the floor and listen to the voices below and follow them from the window as they went back to their lives. At one point I was afraid to go to the window. Boys from the neighborhood would see me. They yelled things I didn't understand. "Don't say anything to them," Mami said. "Not a word. And don't you dare try to meet them. They'll be on you like crows on a corpse." It didn't matter. After a while the boys either got disappointed or disinterested because they stopped coming. So I took to the window again. Eventually Mami handed me a bucket and a brush and told me to make myself useful. I was already on the floor, I might as well scrub it. I was already at the window, I might as well wash it. My dress lay fresh over my headboard as my brush and my rags traveled over the same surfaces over and over, as the governor's daughter quietly begged for black cohosh so that a Scientist's child would die inside her, as Mami offered the Family Protection officers bags of her finest morning glories.
Now I have my own bedroom and washroom. Fitcher has his garret, there's the kitchen, and seven other rooms that are completely empty. I don't think Fitcher knows how to live in his ow
house, either. Sometimes I think he has another house somewhere, one where he keeps his furniture and his guests come to call.
It's hard to believe that he ever had a wife. The whole reason I was hired was to care for her. By the time I met him at the train station, she was already dead. Fitcher said he'd written to me but I hadn't received any letters. I was devastated. I couldn't go back to Mami.
"I can help you," I said. "I'll get a job and send my wages to you."
"If you want help me out, fine, I'll let you manage the shop."
"But I want to get out of here!" I cried.
"So that's it. You think you can fend for yourself out there.
"That's not my fault. You made me this way!"
"Excuse me?"
"The only thing you've taught me is how to break the law and bribe my way out of any consequences. It wasn't exactly hard to figure out. I could turn you in right now if I wanted to."
Suddenly my face stung. My own Mami had slapped me.
"You think I want to live this way? You think I want to be I'm scared all the time that someone might take you away from me? I am doing what I can. People go to herbalists when they want something a doctor won't prescribe. Maybe I have to break the law sometimes, but I've given you everything you ever needed because of it."
"Mami, it's not--"
"There's nothing out there."
"Mami, please."
"I have an appointment on N. street tonight. I'd be stupid to hope you'd be here when I come back," she said. Just before she left, I saw her bite her lower lip. Mami loved me.
There was no telling how long she'd be gone, but I had to act quickly. I pulled books off the shelves and scribbled into my notebook whatever looked like a formula. There was no telling which ones were medicinal and which were poisonous. I'd figure that out later. I grabbed bottles out of the cupboards and stuffed them into the bag I'd just sewn. It made no difference whether they were filled with imported spices or twigs from the garden. I took the three that smelled the best--violet, oil of myrrh, cardamom--the three that smelled the worst--valerian, hemlock, and jimson weed--and the three I knew were useful--sweetbalm, thyme, and rosemary. For good measure, I threw in a bottle of linseed oil and a mortar with a broken pestle. At the time, these sounded like logical selections.
I wanted to scream, but I let the anger simmer inside me instead.
I almost left her my newly and crudely cut braid. But that would look like I'd wanted to hurt her, and I didn't. Not really. Besides, it was impractical. The gold plait was cashed in to the wig-maker's for my train ticket. I walked to the station with the bloody light of the setting sun behind me.
