Sugarcane and Indigo

In the Sugarcane Fields

    I slipped through the gate and up the stairs and through the plum door into the pink hallway. The entire inside was decorated in shades of pink. The walls were taffy colored with a flamingo colored trim. There was a hot pink carpet rolled along the length of the floor as well.

    I kept walking deeper into the house until finally I came upon the front desk in what used to be a sitting room. There were still pictures of the old family who had used to live here.

    The woman at the front desk finished typing on her computer before looking up at me.

    "May I help you?" she asked, a polite smile on her broad face.

    I smiled back in response. "Yes, I'm looking for a Tabatha Mills."

    The woman frowned. "We don't have a Tabatha Mills here - oh you mean Miss Cray - I mean Mrs. Clay!" The woman shook her head trying to clear the Freudian slip. "I'm sorry, it's been a long day. She's in room 8 down the hall. Just sign in."

    The receptionist gestured to the clip board on the desk and then turned back to her computer, her face ablaze in embarrassment. I signed in and glanced at her one last time. Miss Cray? What was that about.

    I made my way down the hall towards the rooms. Above each doorway was a number helping to distinguish one from the other. At the end of the hall on the left was room number 8. The door was slightly ajar and I knocked before peeking inside.

    There was a bed in the middle of the room with a faded quilt hanging off the end of it. The room itself was painted a happy peach color. There were candles scattered all over the room which seemed like a safety hazard, but what did I know? There was dressers pushed against the wall with photos on top and a vase of flowers on the bedside table. On one side of the room was a big window overlooking the backyard. In front of the window was a rocking chair with an old woman sitting in it.

    "Hello," I greeted, but the woman didn't answer, she just stared straight ahead.

    I hesitated for a moment before stepping deeper into the room. The woman still didn't acknowledge my presence.

    "How are you?" I tried, but that also didn't get a response.

    I walked a little closer to the woman. She was staring out the window with vacant eyes, probably not seeing what was right in front of her face.

    "My name's Lavender Fletch."

    The woman's head jerked and she let out a long whimper. "Faithless Fletches falsify feelings," she mumbled more to herself than me.

    "Excuse me?" I asked, confused.

    "Ohhh no good comes from carelessly chattering charges when Fletches wander 'bout." The woman clutched her hands and rocked herself in place, shaking as she did so.

    "Ma'am can I get you a water or something?" I crept closer to her, until I was standing by her side. Her face was aghast with horror, looking as if someone had struck her.

    The woman just shook her head back and forth.

    "My mind's gone off to holiday," she wailed, clutching her head in her boney hands. Her hair was unkept and nappy with curls randomly lengthed. She looked insane.

    I glanced around, unsure what to do. The room was very dark, facing away from the sun. Maybe some light would make her feel better. No one could like sitting in a dark room.

    "I'm going to turn on the light," I told her, turning to walk to the lightswitch, but before I could arrive Miss Clay spoke.

    "Light! Yes, light does good." Miss Clay waved her hand and suddenly all the candles magically lit themselves. Something was off about the flames though. Instead of behaving normally like one would expect, they danced in place, twisting to make images of animals prancing and people dancing. So that must be her gift.