𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚 ❀ ᴛᴇᴡᴋᴇꜱʙᴜʀʏ₁

❀𝐬𝐢𝐱❀

If you do remember, my mother quite enjoys word games.

The bankmen met.  Entangle herb.  Ellie Houseman.

When at Ferndell, my sister and I gained much knowledge on the outside world.  Surface knowledge now that I think of it, but knowledge nonetheless.

The bankmen met. Entangle herb. Ellie Houseman.

I learned of the places, but not the people.  The past, but not the present.  As I use this knowledge to dissect the three phrases circling my head like vultures over prey, I recall the memories.  Small things leading to where I am now.

The bankmen met. Entangle herb. Ellie Houseman.

Is it possible that my mother truly didn't believe I would make it this far? That Enola would figure out all the little bits and pieces, but not I.  What makes my sister and I so different?

To the task at hand: getting the vultures to dive for the carcass.  I can't help but wonder what will jump out of the bushes once it drops from the sky.

The bankmen met. Entangle herb. Ellie Houseman.

This first phrase rings a bell, but perhaps one with a crack in it.  Something doesn't sound quite right.  I shuffle the letters, but it is too long with too many combinations, so I move groups around first.  It is much more difficult to figure this out when one's sister is hogging the letter tiles.

The bankmen met. The bankmenmet. The menbankmet.  The emnbankmet. Embankment?

The cogs finally click into place.  The embankment, of course! I saw it in a book one time, when I was only about eight or nine.  I suppose good memories run in the family.

Entangle herb.

This one proves a bit more difficult.  I remember, when I stopped in the doorway of my mother's meeting, a woman near me had a map with the title of "Plan of London."  If the embankment is a place, could the others be too?

Entangle herb. Bentangle her. Betnanlhe ger. Bethalne gren. Bethnal Green? entanGle herB, Bethnal Green.  

That must be it! It was circled on the map. I hear Enola aggressively shuffling tiles before an audible gasp reaches my ears.  She must be figuring something out, but I want to do it first.

Ellie Houseman.  Ellie House Man. House Ellie Man. Meal house line. Leam house lein.  Liem house laen. Lime House Lane. Limehouse Lane.

I turn to Enola and walk over to her seat on the floor.  She is arranging the letters in Ellie Houseman.  I whisper "Limehouse Lane," and she stops.  Slowly, she begins to rearrange the letters until they form the new phrase, or perhaps address.

"That must be it. And I suppose you have the other two, Bethnal Green and Embankment?" Enola mutters, somewhat aggravated. She hates losing, even when it isn't officially a competition.  

And I have to admit, I'm a little proud that I won this time.  She is my sister, but it seems like she always wins.  With plans, with brains, with puzzles, even with our mother's favor, apparently.  The last thing I beat her in was table tennis.

"Yes.  What do you make of it?  They're all places, so maybe we should go there." Maybe the plan can be mine this time.  Enola agrees that we will go in the morning.

I lie down in the bed with a creak.  I toss and turn while listening to the squeaks of mice scurrying around.  That isn't what keeps me awake, my mother is.  I keep thinking about everything that has changed, before I decide to not dwell on it tonight.