le bonheur de vivre

5

Elodie sat in the wicker chair at the back of the garden, surrounded by the tree of life ( lignum vitae ). it's emerald-like adolescence bathed in the glow of the afternoon shine, dipping her at times into its gold. She stroked Ruso who sat behind her, and from the darkness and lushness of her little isolated rainforest she listened to the happenings that inhabited her house. 

Her father and Mark worked on the genoa of their little boat down at the wooden platform. they were planning to take it out one of the following days, when the winds were strong enough, when the tides were excited enough, when the waves jumped out of their beds like excited children and the sun worked its hardest, those were the days to go out for a sail, and sails on those days were magnificent.

Lifting her frosty ice tea to her chapped lips she took a long suck and a scornful breath. She didn't know where Dora or Alexander were and she didn't care ( whisper it again to yourself dearest Elodie!)

The delightful smell that arose from the kitchen wafted up and surrounded her. with a skip and dash Elodie was there is the kitchen grabbing a half cooked empanada and dashing off into her room as she heard her mother's call and Dora's cackle.

you'll have to eat dinner without me you pests!

she took herself into her room and closed herself into her closet  and hunched over, legs and limbs all locked in a scraggly heap and nibbled at her food. It was dark and warm in here, like her mother's womb. She pulled her clothes closer to her and smelt them, she liked the affinity of its odour and it's serenity, how it sat here waiting for her, for her to put it on, to give it use, to occupy it. for her to rule it, to enter it, inhabit, live, breathe.

she let it surrounded her for a moment before dragging herself up and onto her bed, grabbing her copy of 'a house of pomegranates'. there was something about Wilde that she admired, and she loved learning about him and his life and his friends ( Bosie was her favourite. )

the daylight that sunk into the darkness kicked her skin, her skirt hitched up by her hips. She rolled around as the time passed, reading her book, dreaming, scorning, a spiteful sparkle of young beauty.

"Elodie!" someone called.

she groaned and rose from her slumberous activity.

"What?" she groaned. Her mother replied, her voice drifting out of the murky thickness of what was now the night.

"Come down and show our guests your knowledge of the stars."

Elodie was a quiet astronomer, one who watched the stars silently, who only whispered about it in fleeting moments.

her mother knew about this passion, and liked to utilise it to entertain guests. (Mama! It's not my passion) ( Elodie didn't have passions, she had no care in the world ).

"Mama, I'm tired."

She paused for a reply.

"Oh come on, everyone is so excited."

"Oh mama," she heaved, pulling herself out of her bed. she lumbered out of her bedroom into the outside. there wasn't much difference in humidity, she had her window open, and the vapour which was viscous with the scent of flowers was no intruder to her tongue, she embraced it.

The kitchen glowed in all its plainness and she saw Julie through the moth eaten curtains. Scrambling down, her feet dirty with the earth, she poked her head through the doorway. All of them sat around the kitchen table, empty plates scattered.

Alexander saw her first and the Julie, who smiled, and then her mother.

"Ah, Elodie, Why don't you take everyone out onto the grass and tell them about the stars. It's beautiful tonight."