Love, Salt AND Impossible Prices

One of the strangest things to learn about the world is how many professions there apparently were. There is a doctor for just about every little thing out there, from head to toe, from friend to foe there was room for doctors of every kind.

Certainly there were quacks, no better than having a mallard for treating, but there were some conditions that seemed fake.

So fake, that it would seem impossible that someone would even hope to cure it. 

Like a broken heart.

That was actually why Vera was here, at least that was what the note said.

She still felt like an intruder, even in the expansive yard around the Gothic manor house, more than enough space to make her claustrophobia at least a little irrational.

They had been eating outside that day, the owner- the Doctor? and her daughter. Vera was an interloper, and she was never going to be comfortable asking, but they seemed as uneasy as her.

She’d still been given a seat when she handed over the letter.

“You’ve come a long way.” The Doctor says, Savina Armistice, it’s a very posh name, but Vera isn’t intimidated by that.

She has no reason to talk back farther, as the daughter speaks, “so more victims,” she says sharply, “I wonder what’s been done to make this one act so numb.”

“My partner was run over a little while ago, I’m sure it’s just that,” Vera answers, when the conversation lulls she realizes, “I wonder was that a question?”

“It probably wasn’t,” the Doctor answers, “it’s quite alright though. I read this through, but it hasn’t sunk in. Why have you come here?”

Vera didn’t know if she had an answer to that, her thoughts were empty of concern though, her Lover had told her where to go after all. Where he’d gone after didn’t matter.

“Isn’t it obvious? She either needs a cure, or the sickness itself,” Ruth said to her mother, “it’s only a question of payment isn’t it?”

“Not if she’s impaired.” the Doctor said, dismissively.

“Isn’t the cure good enough for that?” Ruth said to her mother, Vera wasn’t even there with them. She heard the words and read the room but it didn’t matter to her at all. “Do you really want to leave her like that?”

Ruth seemed upset. 

She reentered the house, not bothering to look at Vera or the Doctor. Vera couldn’t help but watch her, a fast hot fire in an old manor house. Savina didn’t bother following after her daughter, “so dramatic,” she said under her breath before ringing a bell, summoning a maid.

She stayed for that time, just long enough to drink her tea, and rest her brow. Vera was still barely there, still more a nuisance than a person.

Her thoughts flitted away after that, her body staying where she’d been left.

“What are you doing out there?”, she hears Ruth’s voice clear as crystal in the darkening gray of evening, she turns her head to where the young lady should be.

She just stares, her heart is empty to the fire in the girl’s eyes, the dour self in front of her a foreign disruption to lost hours. There’s a pause, and Ruth takes her hand and leads her in.

Vera feels the heat in that hand, adrift as she’s pulled along, 

She’s handed a towel by a maid, and she is surprised to feel droplets on her skin.

She thinks, belatedly of how things would be, had her Lover left her less than the nothing of the note. Would she have followed him into the grave, or would she simply forget to eat like she’d forgotten the rain’s pitter patter on her head?

She answers, “Staying put. I don’t know where I should be.” she looks up at Ruth, she can’t see past the towel, but it was set on her so she shouldn’t be ungrateful. She can barely feel the room, as rain pours down from that old gray sky, Ruth doesn’t say a thing.

Vera’s forgotten her Lover’s name, though she can’t help but ask herself, did she ever know his name? There’s a wicked cackle in her throat before Ruth takes her hand.

She doesn’t know if she was late, but like so many things it didn’t matter.

She feels Ruth’s kiss on that hand, and she’s led farther into the manor, cold and wet, and sad. This fire begging for a forgiveness that can’t be had, that isn’t her’s, what mercy is there from an empty thing like Vera?

Her thoughts are real for once, and she’s tired. She doesn’t want to know her own heart any more.

Vera sleeps for the first time in a house that doesn’t know how to creek, and she can’t help but feel for it. She lacks the will to complain also.

Vera opens her eyes and wakes in her body, far from the bed set for her. She’s already eaten, with only Ruth in front of her, there are no maids to be concerned with them. She waits and watches the daughter of the house, had she thought or spoke? When she wasn’t there inside her body, did she move? Or was she led? Did it matter?

Would it matter to her?

“Are you full?” Ruth asks, she’s soft and warm a campfire’s light, on cold empty skin.

“No.” she says, like she were honest, or didn’t know what she meant.

“Then don’t stop, you can’t out eat a mansion.” she smiles, Vera was quick enough wasn’t she? “You’re finally here.” she says in a breath meant a secret.

Vera hides it in her emptiness and prays that it’s never lost. She wonders why it’s so warm that day, and why it smells like salt.

She’s gone again before she can think and she wonders why it hurts.

“You have to cure her.” Ruth says to her mother, Vera only hears it so close against a hammering heart.

“Why?” The Doctor baits, she’s nowhere close enough to see. How it feels, against her daughter’s chest, “because you’re sorry?”

A breaths pause, and she chokes a lie, “yes.” How could it be a lie? She thinks, as she hears that ragged sound.

She smells salt, and hears it confirmed, “You shouldn’t lie for this. Just-” even the Doctor’s voice cracks, she can’t even finish can she?

“You can’t lie just because you hate me.” she finally says, leaving the room to them and for whatever reason, Vera thinks it’s only Ruth she left behind.

To Savina at least Vera is gone. 

She wasn’t.

“I never learned his name.” She couldn’t even say it loudly, but it calmed her breath so she continued, “I didn’t think of it before. It didn’t matter. Not to me.”

“I loved him, how could anything about him matter?” it wasn’t logical in the least, her throat tight against a slowed heart. She knew she was wrong now, to forget.

To never know.

She pushed herself from Ruth, at least she tried, “I didn’t want to say it before.” she held her tight as anything still.

“Am I bad?” she could hear only muttered nothings, as she slipped away.