Follow
by Grace Singer
From Part One: Chapter One
One pointed boot leaned perilously on the edge of the bench situated on the porch of the funeral parlor. This boot was attached to a stockinged leg of the black and white stripe variety. Hidden under her knee length skirt very few people would guess these particular stockings stopped mid-thigh.
The length of her stockings aside, Persephone Sorrow had few other secrets. Only the depth of her dreams, her real name, and the reason why she chose her new name had been obscured by time. In every other way Miss Sorrow was an open book.
She took a long drag off her clove cigarette. It filled the air around her with a hazy, perfumed smoke. She wouldn't smoke regular cigarettes, couldn't stand the smell. There wasn't much to do in town, especially not on a weekday. She could while away the afternoon on this porch, watching as the traffic passed completely oblivious to her presence.
It wasn't really her idea of a good time, but she didn't really have an idea of a good time anymore.
There wasn't a funeral or wake today. She wasn't even sure if the director was present on the grounds this afternoon. She was a regular to him, not anyone to really bother about. She never caused trouble, was always polite to the mourners should there be any. In a way she was an unpaid doorman. It was all the same to Mr. Brant, though he couldn't really see why she wouldn't rather just hang out on her own front porch.
He'd certainly prefer the view. Not to say that the funeral home had an unpleasant view. Quite the contrary. The front lawn was impeccably kept. There was a simple brass fountain on the lawn in the shape of little girls dancing around a may pole. Across the main road was the expansive park in the center of Willoughby. It was sanctioned by the town in the early 1900's by a wildlife conscious town council member. Unfortunately, Willoughby's nearly famous central wildlife preserve was not big enough to house much more than squirrels and one sad hedgehog. Most of the other wildlife was killed off over the course of time due to vehicles and some trigger happy poachers who served jail time and weren't so trigger happy ever again.
This was no big deal to Persephone, who paid little attention to the wild squirrels or the lonely hedgehog. She was simply too ethereal for that.
With a little shrug she threw off the cloak that had fallen over her shoulder. It was her customary jacket, refuting the typical wear of everyone else her age. She pulled a monocle from the top of her bodice and fitted it carefully into her left eye. Grabbing a sketchbook and pencil from her bag she started to draw the first thing that came to mind.
Persephone was not a very good artist. She wasn't even a bad artist. Most of the time she ended up with swirly lines on her paper that she would later color with pencils. Her mother called it modern art and urged her daughter to frame them. If her mother had her way these nonsensical drawings would be hanging all over the house.
Today she drew more lines, sloping and converging, leaving white space all over her paper. They were queer shapes, circles with pointed ends and random blobs. She thought perhaps she might color the white space instead of the lines next time.
It was something to think about while her smoking cigarette hung from the corner of her mouth.
She didn't notice as Cody joined her, taking his usual seat on the wide porch railing. He smiled, watching her. He might never admit it but everyone knew anyway. He was insane about Persephone, had been since he first met her.
His long legs almost reached her, seated on the bench. His thick black boots perched underneath her as if he could catch her should she fall. He observed the bright shade of blue her eyes were today, darker than the sky, a little cloudy.
If he turned his head a little he noticed her scar running behind her ear, part of the reason she never wore her hair up. If she ever did Cody was one of the few people who knew that she covered it with makeup. It was livid pink and something she never talked about. He didn't think to ask.
Almost as if she could feel his eyes on her she dropped her pen and pulled the corner of her cloak back over her shoulder. It was just a tiny tremor, a little shiver, but it was enough to find her covering her arms in the early autumn chill.
He smiled warmly as she looked up at him. "Hey," he said as nonchalantly as he could manage.
"Hey," she replied, raising one gloved hand in salute. They were sheer, black lacy things starting to wear thin in the fingertips from overuse.
"What are you doodling?" he asked with sincere interest.
"The same old," she replied with a glib little grin. She set her pen and pad back in her bag and turned to give Cody her full attention. "What are you up to?" she asked as if she didn't already know. This was part of the routine. Every day after school Cody would take his violin lessons that his mother insisted on. He was always begrudging and quite sullen immediately thereafter so he'd walk through the park, a long meandering cool down before he met with Persephone on the funeral parlor porch. Once there they'd sit and gab about nothing as if any of it mattered until just before suppertime when the friends would part to eat at their own houses.
This seemed like enough to them. A deep friendship. They didn't ask unnecessary questions of one another. They didn't assume anything other than that they'd always meet on the porch and chat congenially. Every now and again he'd come and bother her on the weekend. She'd lay on her bed and sketch or read. He'd lay on the floor, his long body stretched out, content to be in her presence.
He was a strange boy to say the least. Tall and quiet, almost stoic but not as cold. He was shy, something few people understood about him. He emitted such a presence, an uncontainable energy, yet he was terrified of people. Perhaps that's why Persephone seemed to reach him.
Odd creatures that they were, they seemed to fit together. She wasn't shy as he was. She was far more abrasive, speaking the truth at all costs. That was why she didn't have many friends other than Cody and Mrs. Bradley, a boy and a young woman who didn't mind the truth, and often preferred it to anything else.
Persephone took comfort in these two people, so vastly different as sun and moon. Cody, tall, dark and quiet, unkempt in appearance. Vivienne Bradley, warm and affectionate, bright and friendly to everyone.
Even with two friends who wouldn't cast her aside, it was hard in this small town. She was ridiculed and teased, bearing it all with rolled eyes and a sense of graceful humor. She figured if she couldn't laugh at herself with everyone else than the joke was on her.