Let's Call It Historical Fiction

i.

Merci prides herself in memories. Maybe sometimes the details are blurry, out of order and sparse, but they’re always right. She does not forget things.

Like her mother, calm as a northern wind and a curling accent that always, always requires repetition. Always a steady voice, and cool hands with perfect, pretty red nails guiding her tiny fingers over plants that would snap up at her, or worse, if they were allowed.

Drosera, in various breeds, curling around her fingers slowly- while Merci stumbled over the pronunciation once, twice, before getting it right and moving to the next one.

“They look like coral,” she hears. Mama says it again, louder and enunciated. Drosera derbyensis, and there are no further comments.

Merci hears the greenhouse door slam, and it’s hard enough for the glass to rattle.

ii.

She could remember her sister’s smiles- rare then, too. But they would reach her eyes the same way Ayah’s would, as she practiced different cultural braids in his too long hair. Mama would frown over her book, but say nothing about the incident.

“She’s your child.” Ayah would say, the morning after finding yet another empty bed after hours. Deceit wouldn’t look up from her breakfast, least her dark circles get her in trouble. Merci remembers the dirt under her nails, too deep to get out all the way and the warmth in her cheeks.

“She gets it from your side of the family,” Was always the curt response. There were no smiles, nothing but frowns as Mama cut another apple into sections for Merci to eat. Merci had made a mess of her oatmeal that morning, wanting absolutely nothing to do with it.

But there were no instructions, either, leaving both girls to their own devices. A day spent reciting plants that move and different color polishes.

Merci goes with a green, dark and sparkle-y, and ruby red on her thumbs. Deceit settles for a clear coat, hastily applied and abandoned when Merci begins crying. Her polish was smeared, and Deceit takes the time to repaint each one different colors and build her blocks back up.

iii.

“Sarracenia, animated, cries in the same way mandrake does,” Her mother tells her. They explore ways to calm the fussing together, and Merci tries to focus and not to fixate on the tangle of blue hair being blown by the morning breeze. She watched it irritate several potted species of Nepenthes, and how their lids would snap down only a second or two too late. Her sister pays them no mind, instead focusing on extracting venom from a rather angry spider, just the way Ayah had shown her before.

“A Phoneutria keyserling,” Her mother confirms when she asks, before bringing Merci’s attention back to her own lesson. Mama doesn’t seem to notice when her sister cries out a moment or two later, but blocks Deceit from her sister’s view and tells Merci again, how to quiet the pitcher plants.

iv.

She doesn’t see her sister for over a week. The days are long and Ayah isn’t home for any of it- but that wasn’t entirely unusual for him. Merci is dropped on her cousins, Phoenix and Christov, at random.

They stay for the whole week. Phoenix makes Christov sit long enough for Merci’s stumbling fingers to learn braids- not the ones Deceit had done, but ones from her mother’s family. Phoenix is less patient than Mama, Merci decides. But Christov is quiet, and quick to diffuse his sister’s irritation.

They talk of flowers- not the dangerous ones, but the ones that grow back home. Their home. Christov doesn’t know the scientific names, but he can describe them. Kingcups are in bloom, he tells her, and they cover the marshland in yellow, white and pink. Phoenix tells her of a holiday with matching colors, in the humans' towns.

Mama takes enough time to stop that conversation immediately. Merci was not allowed to learn of humans yet, she says. She’s not old enough.

Phoenix draws her pictures of brightly colored eggs, instead, and passively teaches her the basics of runes. Christov frowns and tells her she shouldn’t be so spiteful. Merci decides these cousins are perhaps her favorite.

v.

Merci puts on her best dress, the one with the lace ends and layers of thin, brightly colored cloth. Mama helps her tie the ties where she needs them- she hasn’t learned yet. And they leave with Uncle Yuuda.

It’s a special occasion, they tell her. A holiday in her father’s homeland, and this time she’s old enough to attend. Ayah greets her warmly, and Merci could swear Mama was smiling as well. Deceit sits between Aanjay and Eko, paler than usual and paler still in company. But she’s smiling and talking quickly in a Ayah’s language and that’s good enough for Merci.

(She is reprimanded to the table between Kali and Topan, and spends the time stringing together the funniest sentences she can think of. They’re not that funny, really, but Kali is entertained enough. Topan only frowns and makes her repeat words again and again and again until she finally gets them right.)

vi.

She crawls into her sister’s room, quiet as a mouse and aching. Teething was a harsh and painful process, but forgivingly quick. Merci’s too short to get up on Deceit’s bed by herself, but she tries anyway.

Her sister is sleepy and mumbling but awake enough to slide off the bed to give her a bit of a boost. Merci makes it onto the bed, exhausted, and grins up with newly grown baby teeth. Deceit returns it with a tired one that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. Merci’s eyes are closed when something heavy and warm ends up on top of her. She’s asleep soon after.

vii.

Xavier knows not to ask too many questions, or the important ones. Instead, he waits and when she’s feeling it, she talks. Maybe not to him, not intentionally. But he’s quiet and listens. She talks, and that’s what matters. She remembers the little things because there’s no one else to.