May Flowers

The girl stood in the corner of the room, twitching. Soft hands wrung together, nails biting reddened palms.

Her build was slight: thin arms and a gaunt face. Thick, flaring fabric engulfed her slim frame, a delicate pink that left her pale complexion washed out and sallow.

Every inch of her shook with nerves. Her butterfly gaze flitted about the room, from wall to window and door to floor, afraid to rest anywhere for too long. Her body too, would not relax: one moment her spine as straight as a flagpole, the next a rigid curve of faux-ease. She had the fleeting urge to pace the room, but feared her legs may buckle at the first step.

She stood, the picture of a woman in wait.

There was a knock at the door.

Panic raced through her. Her mouth went suddenly dry, but it didn’t matter, because the door was creaking open without invitation.

And in came the baker’s girl.

For one, glorious moment, all unease abandoned her in place of jealousy. This girl in the door was everything that Lillian was not: tall and thickset, with dark, knotted hair and strong features that would sooner be called handsome than pretty. She was undeniably present, and Lillian, who suited the backgrounds, could do nothing but envy her for it.

The girl held out the paper bag she was holding, and Lillian managed to find her feet if not her words, and stumbled forwards to take it.

The girl swallowed, slow and deliberate, as their hands brushed, and Lillian, drawing back, noted that her fingers felt faintly sticky.

She stood back to observe the girl more closely.

It wasn’t fair, she thought. The girl was clearly no more comfortable here than herself, yet she held herself with poise and defiance, her head high. Larger than life, she occupied more of the room than ought to have been possible, staring Lillian down with cold flint eyes. Feet apart and shoulders square, and no part curling in on itself; she had weaponised every part of her ungainly body, precisely and deliberately. 

Even her swallow… 

She looked at the bag that ought to have felt heavier in her hand.

A quick glance confirmed her suspicions - the bag was only half full.

“You ate some?” she exclaimed, and then grimaced. Still, it seemed as effective an opening statement as any.

The girl smiled. It was not friendly. “You hardly had me deliver your order here out of a desire for marzipan alone.”

Lillian swallowed. 

She closed her eyes. Breathed. 

“No, you’re right.” She set the bag of confectionary fruit down onto the table beneath the window. “I simply… I have a proposal I would like to discuss.”

The girl gave no response. She continued.

“Last week, when I was walking through the village after dark. There was a man, and he had started to follow me, and so I quickened my pace and then stumbled, and he took hold of my wrist and then…”

She drifted off. The girl had dropped her smile; it made her face look more open, somehow.

“I remember. You were by my father’s shop.”

“Indeed.” She paused, and then the words came tumbling from her lips, hurried and unpracticed. “I would like to learn. That is, whatever actions you took, however you convinced him to leave, I would like to know them.”

Something in her face softened. “He and I simply had a history. He knew better than to cross my path again.”

“Then you had some power over him once before. And, I know how I look, frail, and easy. You project strength, I have seen it before, and admired it. I would like to be able to do the same.”

At some point she had turned her gaze to the floor. She didn’t dare look up now, as a long pause stretched between them.

“Alright.”

She jerked her head upwards.

There was still stone in the girls eyes, but it had sparked, her gaze warm. “You wish to learn. I will teach. Should I come to you here?”

Lillian nodded, head frantic as she pulled her thoughts together. “Yes. No one else uses this cabin since my sister married, it will be an adequate space.”

“Ah,” the girl laughed. “I am your secret then. Very well. I shall meet you here, a week from today. If that suits you, Miss...”

“Lillian. No Miss. And that suits me well.”

The girl smiled again, and this time it was soft and friendly and everything it hadn’t been earlier. She held out a hand, for her to shake. “Very well, Lillian. I believe we have a deal.”

****************************************************************************

“I realise I never did ask your name,” Lillian said, in lieu of greeting, as she opened the door.

“You still haven’t.” The girl shrugged. “Mae.”

“Mae. Nice to meet you.”

Lillian buzzed much as she had last week, but now excitement rather than nerves. Mae watched her with amusement. 

“We already met. Anyway, here.” She handed over the package she’d carried in with her. Lillian took it, confused.

“But I didn’t order anything...”

“Easy.” She held up a hand, and tapped the parcel. “It’s just some old clothes of mine, dresses I’ve outgrown. Far from whatever garb you’re used to, I’m sure, but you can hardly expect to learn anything draped in enough fabric to dress yourself thrice over.”

“What do I need…”

“You wished, to learn how to defend yourself, yes?” Mae asked, an eyebrow raised.

Lillian flushed, lightly. “I, assumed… You said that the man had run away due to your shared history.”

Mae snorted. A most unladylike sound, she knew, and she delighted in how it seemed to shock Lillian.

“Yes. A shared history, wherein I broke his arm when we were younger, and he avoids me now for fear that I shall do so again.” She looked at Lillian, bemused. “What did you think you were asking to learn?”

“I thought, well, I thought. I don’t know. I thought perhaps I could learn to act more as you do, that people might see me as more than prey.”

Mae tensed, despite herself. “And how, do I act?” she asked, striving to keep her tone light.

Lillan’s cheeks were still red. She looked down. “As though... you are immovable. As though no one can make you go somewhere you would not go, or leave someplace you would rather be. And your very body seeks to warn people to think better than to try.”

Interesting, Mae thought. She was hardly a stranger to comments on her body and behaviours, but it was novel to hear them described so poetically.

Coming to a decision, she walked towards Lillian. “You wish to look frightening?” she asked, laughing. “Then we’ll start there.” 

Lillian looked up at her.

Mae let her gaze harden, struggling to keep her face blank, and stared directly into her eyes. She watched Lillian do her best to imitate her.

Keeping a stone face had always come naturally to Mae, but she had to fight not to giggle when Lillian’s face coloured again and she turned away.

****************************************************************************

Lillian wasn’t sure what she’d expected from Mae, but beyond the near constant teasing she was an excellent tutor. She showed her how to stand firm and corrected her stances when they were weak; how to hobble people with her feet and break their holds with her thumbs; how to weaponise the pointed elbows that she’d always hated.

She taught her how to colour her voice with danger and threat, to close her face and speak with only her eyes. Lillian was raised in high society, and doublespeak was as known to her as drawing breath, but only ever in the part of the demure girl, unassuming and politely ignorant. Even knowing that she would likely never use these skills, it was exhilarating to practice conducting herself in such a forthright manner.

Yet the thrill she found in her defiance was nothing to the thrill she felt in being around Mae. She had friends, of course, girls she was close to, but there was always some distance between them, bourne of societal expectations and uncertainty. With Mae, she could speak her true mind, on anything, without fearing consequence or ruin, and so she held no part of herself back. And Mae seemed to return her trust in kind. More and more, did they find their time together spent engaged in nothing but idle conversation. 

A tap at her ankle brought her back to herself. She looked up, locking eyes with Mae, who stood in front of her, one leg outstretched like a dancer’s, her foot resting a mere inch from her own.

Mae stared at her until the moment Lillian realised what she was about to do. With a swift kick, Lillian’s legs were knocked out from underneath her, and as her back hit the panelled floor, she had the fleeting thought that she would gladly suffer a thousand such falls, if only she never had to stop hearing Mae’s laughter following her to the ground.

****************************************************************************

Lillian’s face was commendably blank. But she still could not conceal the depths of her pale blue eyes. They sparkled, even in the dim light, brimming with warmth and amusement, as they bore steadfast into her own.

Mae looked away first.

****************************************************************************

For the first time in months, Lillian found herself late coming to the cabin. 

Not notably so. Mere minutes after Mae had let herself in. But for months now she had come down early to change into the dresses she left there, and now for reasons she couldn’t quite articulate, she found she didn’t want to change if Mae was there.

It was a strange thought. Certainly she had had no problem a few months before. But somehow, thinking of it she felt oddly exposed and vulnerable, for all that she was still clothed.

Mae cocked an eyebrow. “Are you alright?”

Right. She could hardly stand in a doorway all day. 

She walked across the room, picked out a dress, and paused. Behind her, Mae called out, her voice strained. “Lilli?”

She dropped the dress, abruptly, and turned.

“I should train like this, in my crinolines. After all, if I ever do need to put any of this into practice, it is hardly likely to be whilst I am…” She gestured vaguely at Mae.

“Dressed as a commoner?” Mae asked, but she noted with relief that her voice once more seemed normal, and there was a familiar glimmer in her eyes.

“Quite.” She stepped forward, and Mae stepped back, her eyes scrutinising.

“Well then, m’lady,” she said finally, and gave a mock bow, before straightening and spreading her hands, in invitation.

Lillian snorted, and reached out to swat her head. Mae caught her hand mid-swing and held it, stepping closer.

Lillian looked down at the skirts fanning out around her. “I can’t fight in this.”

Mae laughed. “No.” She dropped her hand, and her tone grew speculative as she continued. “Perhaps, with some sort of weapon…” She shook her head. “Another time. M’lady, I am yours for the next few hours. What would you have us do?”

Lillian glanced down at Mae’s hand. On impulse, she reached out and twisted their fingers together.

Mae’s face was impassive, but her eyes were trained away, and it gave her confidence, somehow.

She turned slightly, and raised their clasped hands to one side, as her free palm came to land on Mae’s shoulder.

For a long moment, Mae didn’t react. Slowly, a smile crept onto her face, soft and small, and completely aimless. Her own hand drifted carefully upwards, to rest on Lillian’s waist.

Their eyes met.

“Care to dance?”

****************************************************************************

“I forget, sometimes, how small you are.”

Mae never tired of seeing Lillian in her old dresses. Quite apart from how she felt more, approachable, when not bedecked in silks, it never failed to amuse her to see how loose the fabric hung around Lillian’s narrow shoulders, how the bottom nearly brushed the floor, even though Mae had not been lying when she said she’d outgrown the dress years ago.

Mae had long stopped feeling overly conscious about her frame, or height. It was part of her, and she accepted it, and took advantage where she could. Still, it was nice to see the differences between her and her peers as something other than a failing.

The front of the dress gaped slightly, exposing her collarbone. It billowed as Lillian shook in indignation, and Mae bit down on her inner lip, hard, to keep herself from laughing.

Lillian’s glare told her it was in vain. “I don’t know why I tolerate this.”

“Yes you do.”

By Lillian’s huff, she was unconvinced. “Besides, I’m growing into it, look.”

“Sure,” Mae snorted, but she wandered forwards nevertheless. Lillian’s arms were twitching, as she tried to fill out the loose dress sleeves, but Mae could still make out an inch of space between the fabric and skin, as she came to stand beside her.

She hooked a finger into the gap, to emphasise the ill fit. In front of her, she felt Lillian still. Goosebumps ran down her arm. 

She drew back her hand, the back of her fingers brushing against Lillian’s arm.

Lillian’s eyes closed.

Mae swallowed.

She felt unmoored. Unmoored, and desperate to return to stability.

“Um.” Her mouth was dry. “You were saying... about your cousin’s wedding?”

Lillian exhaled, slow, and steady, and tinged with relief or disappointment or some other emotion she couldn’t quite place, and continued the story she had been relating earlier.

****************************************************************************

For perhaps the first time since she’d known her, Mae seemed nervous. She came into the room with her hands beside her back, and her eyes darting from side to side, landing everywhere but on her.

Finally, she stilled, and spoke. “I, uh. I brought something. For you.” Her voice was rough and quiet, and she brought her hands around to press a long, thin object into her pliant palm.

Lillian looked down. The object was cool to touch, cylindrical, and wickedly sharp at one end.

Mae began to speak again. “It’s nothing special. But, we were discussing a while back, how you’d need some sort of weapon, if anything happened whilst you were all made up, and well… I’m sure you already have a hat pin, and I know it’s rather plain, but this one’s a good length to wield, and yours may not be.”

Lillian ran a finger up the metal, towards the blunt, balled end. She looked down when she felt rough grooves near the base, to see a crudely drawn lily scratched into the pin there.

Mae was still talking. “And, well, I found a clip piece too,” she said, holding it up, “so you could keep it as a hairpiece, even if you’re not wearing a hat. If you would like to, of course, but -”. The last of her words were muffled as Lillian, taking a moment to mind the point, flung her free arm around Mae’s neck. 

“Thank you.” She was horrified to hear her words choke a little in her throat. “I, it’s wonderful.”

She stepped back. Mae looked rather stunned. 

She grabbed her hand. “Come. Help me put it in.”

Mae nodded, and took the pin back into her own hand, before stepping close behind her. Lillian felt her breath crest the top of her head and stifled a shiver, as Mae brought deft fingers up to slide the metal into her pale hair.

****************************************************************************

Mae rested, her back on the cool floor, her head against Lillian’s thigh. They had started slumped together, too exhausted in the heat to bring themselves to do anything else. Now, Lillian’s hand ruffles her newly cropped hair, and though Mae can feel her face flush hot, she wouldn’t move for anything.

“What happened?”

Mae flushed again, this time from embarrassment, and mumbled, “There was an incident, with the bread dough.” Lillian hummed in response.

She moved her hand away briefly, and then Mae felt something tugging lightly at her scalp. She reached up a hand of her own, and found metal.

She pulled out a barrette, sleek and elegant, and shaped like the stem and flower of a single lily.

Lillian spoke above her, “I thought it only fair.” She noted, with some envy, that Lillian’s words came far easier than her own had. “Though, you won’t need to explain to people why you’d rather wear a plain pin than some floral fancy in your hair.”

“I can bring you flowers, to adorn it,” Mae offered, looking up even as she turned the barrette over in her hands. “Sunflowers, perhaps.”

“Hmm.” She brought her face down to hers. “I’d prefer hawthorne. May flowers, you know.”

****************************************************************************

They stared into each other’s eyes, though neither made any effort to conceal their expressions, and even as their faces softened and their cheeks flushed, neither looked away.

****************************************************************************

For the first time, since the first time, Mae knocked on the door before entering, holding a small paper bag.

She handed it over. “It so happens, that sometimes a stand-alone order is all too easily misrecorded as annual,” she said. Lillian opened the bag with a smile, to see a single confectionary fruit.

“You ate the rest?”

Mae smiled. “I only dared take the one. But I thought we ought to have some way, of commemorating the date.”

Lillian nodded, taking out the sweet and tossing the bag aside. She took a bite, and held out the remaining half to Mae.

Mae took the offering, and brought it to her lips, her eyes not leaving Lillian’s once. Lillian watched, her mouth suddenly dry, as she swallowed.

She made no decision to move. Unconsciously, inevitably, she stepped forward, into Mae. Firm, immovable Mae, who stood her ground as she rose on to her tiptoes and leaned forwards, to share a perfect, marzipan kiss.