Avalon traced the flowers on her wallpaper. Daisies, chosen by her mother for purity.
For room and maiden to reflect one another. Avalon thought it was flowery rubbish. The meaning behind it that is. She liked daisies. But she’d rather look at them in grass, their natural habitat, than illustrated on the walls keeping her in.
Still, the room had been her safe space. Those walls kept her in, just as they kept her at bay. Away from the clamour of society, into her dream world.
She slipped under her fleece blanket, thinking it’d be awhile, before she’d slip under such warmth again, let alone lay on a mattress made for comfort in addition to convenience.
From her bed, she had a direct view of the window, and at night, she’d stare at the moon until it was out of view. She called it her companion of the night. Though it was a rock, she felt there was a presence to it. Not quite that there was a divine being peering over her, but rather that it was a bustling place unlike any. And somehow, it’d let out no sound or gleam of its activities, as though it were insulated from the inside.
Avalon looked at the moon with dreams spreading in her mind. And like disease, they consumed her. They were clusters of what ifs, all humouring her imagination until she’d drift beyond consciousness.
Her daydreams, so distant from reality, triggered tears more often than not. She longed to be elsewhere, for even the safety net which was her bedroom, started to vanish either way.
She stood and made her bed one last time, delicately so, as though the bed had never been inhabited. She fluffed the pillows and tucked the covers beneath the mattress. Then she left the bed to turn cold.
Avalon hovered by her mahogany vanity, hand by the drawer where she kept stationery. It was no space for papers, but she lacked the desk to store them. Her parents had preferred she focused on nurturing her appearance and feminine talents—such as embroidery—than she wrote and read.
Avalon considered penning them a letter, to not leave them completely in the dark. Then it crossed her mind that they’ve left her in the dark, that, for far longer than they’ll ever be.
She feared that any word she wrote would serve as clue. A lure to come find her, wherever she may be. A declaration of war propelling them to action. Avalon thought she’d earn time by letting their imagination run wild. But would they think her a victim first? Or would they know she’s left of her own volition, for it’d be typical of her?
She’s never run before, at least not on this scale. She’s only hidden from etiquette lessons and tea times with the other prominent young ladies in town. Her parents, most frequently her mother, would find her sitting on the windowsill of a bookstore, her attention stolen. Or she’d find her by the port, watching the commercial boats leaving and arriving.
Her mother tired quickly from those scavenger hunts and threatened to lock her in the house and have private teachers and “friends” from alike families visit her daily. Fearing that prison, Avalon had quieted down and maintained perfect attendance to all that filled her agenda. For months now, she’d been their model daughter. But would that be enough to consider her changed?
Avalon moved to her wardrobe and sighed. All she had were dresses, which would be inconvenient for the rough travels she anticipated. Still, she picked out the longer and lighter ones for ease of movement. She hung only a few on her forearm, thinking she’d spare some money for attire less restricting.
She re-arranged her wardrobe for the heavier dresses to conceal the absence of the few she plucked out. It was another precaution to ward off suspicion and leave her time.
Having never travelled far before, she didn’t own a traditional suitcase. There were some in the attic, belonging to her father, but they’d be far too bulky. Instead, Avalon dove under her bed, where she remembered the hat box 1 was. It resembled a suitcase the most, whilst being inconspicuous enough. Made from Italian leather, lined with cotton and cretonne on the inside, the case was fitting of her appearance. None would blink an eye at the sight. They’d think she was heading back from the dress shop.
Upon stuffing it shut with all she could afford to bring in its small compartment, she slid it back under the bed. It’d be hours before the sky darkened enough. And in the meantime, she’d fend off further suspicions.
Avalon moved to the living room, where her mother sat, eyes on the potholder she was crocheting with utmost focus.
“Mother, please tell me more about my future husband,” she asked her, teeth subtly clenched.
At that, her mother perked. Her daughter brought her much trouble over the years. She knew the abrupt marriage wouldn’t sit well with her. She went through it with sheer hope. Hope her daughter would take to the arrangement without revolt. Mrs. Gone had even wished Avalon would grow fond of her new life. For even if she took away her prerogative to choose, she thought there couldn’t be any better than this. That one day she’d be thankful to have been steered in the clear direction, when at her young age, she could have not known better.
That wish of hers showed sign of realization with Avalon’s curiosity. A question meant interest. It meant she didn’t have to be so afraid of a possible stunt on the wedding day.
“For one, with him, you’ll never be in lack. He owns diamond mines and makes a fortune without stepping into these filthy mines,” she said, dropping her crochet needles on the coffee table.
Avalon tried to suppress the rolling of her eyes and forced a smile to appear convincing. It came out barely a crescent, but it was more than usual and appeased her mother.
“He has a villa on the coast, and another in the mountains. That one is under construction to accommodate a family,” she winked, the bridge of her nose crinkling.
Mrs. Gone was enthusiastic about this alignment, for it’ll be all the town talks about for some time. That man’s riches and reputation would merge with theirs, and they’d become quite the extraordinary family in their region. Though the Gone family had already been of high status, a married off daughter, to one of the richest men, no less, would be the ultimate honour.
She continued: “He has help around the house; therefore doting on your husband is all you’ll have to do. How fortunate is that?” she exclaimed, her cheeks brightening with a shade of pink.
Her words made Avalon shudder. The goosebumps on her arm she could not hide. Her mother crossed her arms, taken aback by the reaction, and the pink on her cheeks turned bright red.
“What is it? Did I utter something strange?”
“No,” she was quick to answer. “I felt a cold draft is all,” she lied, rubbing her arms. “Please proceed with your list.”
“List?” her mother laughed. “It’s not a list per se, though I suppose it rings close to truth. Well, anyhow, he also has a fishing boat, which he…”
Avalon stopped listening when the mention of a boat prompted an image of the one she stood on, merely hours ago. Its movement pulsed at her feet; the memory still so vivid. She looked forward to boarding that boat again. The ground wasn’t as comforting. The sea felt torn apart from her. She was closest to it peering over water and being swayed gently by the waves.
Her less-than-a-crescent smile grew wider.
“I knew you’d like the sound of his latest endeavour,” her mother said as she clasped her hands on her lap. “Come, dear, sit with me. There’s much I could tell you about.”
Avalon snapped out of her reverie and retrieved that smile, feeling flustered. It had unintentionally made for great acting.
“No, I have plans this afternoon. I’m off to meet a friend who’s married recently too. Certain things I’d like to hear from her,” Avalon said, evading her eyes.
She couldn’t bear to witness the hurt on her mother’s face. Her mother was a married woman; she could fulfill all of her curiosities. Mother and daughter should have been confidants.
This mother and daughter, though, seldom spoke intimately. One would reprimand, and the other was a nomad, always out and about.
“Oh,” Mrs. Gone replied in a softer tone. “Of course. You may attend your engagement. Of course.”
And that was it. Her mother, at least, took solace in Avalon’s continued interest. In brief time, her sentiments had entirely flipped the page, her mother thought. Avalon had paled the moment she’d heard of her fate that morning.
---
Bearing a floppy sun hat and a pair of sunglasses to hide her reddened eyes, she left home. She’d shed uncontrollable tears at her vanity. They’d fallen in perfect succession. She’d bitten her lips the whole time to suppress sound. Quietly, she wept. Her independence hadn’t crossed her sensitivity. It bled through only in that she let none witness it.
I’m really leaving, she thought, feeling grossly under-prepared.
Marriage or not, leaving had perpetually been in the cards, but never this briskly. Without informing her parents even. They’d be opposed to whatever plan she had, but that wouldn’t have stopped her.
She held her hat down and her dress with the other hand, for the wind blew fiercely. Her sense of urgency gone, she walked down the port in slow demeanour. The longer it took, the better, for time ran slower than she’d like. And so she’d decided to mimic it. To fight fire with fire.
Still steps away from his cabin, she’d spotted Reed. He smoked a cigarette while facing the sea. He appeared as contemplative as she’d been on Aric’s boat.
Avalon used his inattentiveness to sneak behind him. She wasn’t the least stealthy, as her attire rustled and planks creaked beneath her, but Reed didn’t catch a sound. He was taken by the sea, whose sound was isolated from the rest if you’d stared awhile.
“Reed!” she called out, grazing her fingertips on his shoulders.
He jumped, and the cigarette held between his fingers nearly slid off.
“Ava,” he sighed, his eyes closing.
Even when frightened, he tended to curb the emotion promptly.
She smiled because she knew it’d been a success. Even if he didn’t show it, the obvious fact was that he did frighten.
“I’m leaving tonight,” she then said, gaze trailing at her own feet.
“I know,” he replied. “I thought we’d talk over coffee, but I have a better idea.” Reed took a long drag and exhaled by his side, away from Avalon.
“We never do anything but talk over coffee. The day I leave is the day you have a new idea?” she furrowed a brow, teasing.
“There’s something you’ve never done, and might be obliged to do in other towns. I’d rather you weren’t with strangers the first time you tried,” he eyed her, fear in his eyes. It set in. He’d be sending Avalon away, not only to fend for herself, but to be surrounded by strangers, each with intentions unknown to him.
If he seemed like a friend before, after this, he was a father figure to her. She trusted him irrevocably—something she didn’t feel for her parents. He was well meaning and respectful, while they were well meaning but intrusive.