They had met in a bar. It is not the place to meet someone if you don’t want to be with an alcoholic. While they had been together, they drank steadily at a rate just this side of reasonable. With the advent of the twins and the rationale of additional stress, both Sally and Frobisher began drinking more.
To the harm of the children, no one said a word. All their friends drank too.
* * * * * * *
“J, she left you.”
“I know.”
“She’s not ever coming back.”
“Look. If I want your opinion, I’ll ask for it.”
“Fine. I just wanted you to face the truth.”
“More like cram it down my throat.”
As time went on, I felt more abandoned as I discovered how things were done in Western. Sasifraz encouraged me to only count on him. As an act of rebellion, I named Kantor, the Queen of The Mark.
As he was King, it detracted somewhat from Sasifraz’s power. But, I needed Kantor’s company. The only way to get it was to allow Kantor to join The Mark.
(DOES THAT MEAN SHE’S CRAZY? I don’t know. Craziness is a pretty subjective notion. I think she was just lonely.)
* * * * * * *
Vanasket. Dusty winds. Dusty winds.
“Where am I?”
“You’re in a distant place.”
“Good answer. How about, ‘What are we doing here?’”
“Meeting a friend.”
“Anyone I know?”
“Be patient.”
Martineau came to Alfer Centurie several days after his dream. He asked Alfer Centurie if wanted to go for a walk, metaphysically speaking, and this is where they landed.
There was an harmonic tremor in the wind, and Lucifer appeared dusting off his clothes.
“You know you don’t have to pick up that cosmic dust,” Martineau commented.
“I know, but I kind of like it.”
“As you wish.”
Martineau introduced the two psychic students and left them to talk for awhile.
Alfer Centurie’s focus was on Sasifraz, and Lucifer’s was on J. They told their respective stories and decided to pool their resources. Although, sharpening their psychic skills seemed the first thing in order. They assumed Martineau would be happy to provide a little guidance.
* * * * * * *
In “Hilley” Cottage, there was one room that had three beds. They called it the dorm room, and it was cozier than the others. It wasn’t long before one of the girls from the dorm room was discharged. Feeling lonely, I asked if I could move in.
There was stirring among the counselors. They decided I could move in if I promised to stop cutting my arm. I wasn’t too big on promises of that nature but decided I didn’t have much to lose and agreed to the terms.
* * * * * * *
A little before I moved in the dorm room, the staff taught me about “warm fuzzies” and “cold pricklies.” These were attitudes or gestures a person gave to other people.
Asking for a warm fuzzy meant asking for a hug. For the first time in my life, I discovered that I could ask for a hug. Hugs were something I’d wanted for a long time but didn’t know how to get. Being able to get them on request was like having the keys to a gold bank vault. I thought it was terrific.
By the time I moved into the dorm, I was feeling pretty good about how things were going in Western. I had a few misgivings about my promise but swept them under my mental rug. As I settled in with two other girls to keep me company in the dorm, I thought maybe things were looking up—at least I hoped so