Whiskey in the Willows
01-31-14, 02:26 AM
I gasped for breath, tears stinging my vision. My eyes were slammed shut to fetter them in. I didn't want Emeline to see me cry, although I wasn't sure why. I was already hunched over, my shaking hands clutching the rough wood of the table for support as my shoulders recovered from the coughing fit. Spittle had foamed in the corners of my mouth and I was frozen, holding my breath lest any movement bring on more of the debilitating cough. My heart was pounding in my chest, my head reeling. When a few moments had passed and I was freed from the clutches of my fear, I relaxed. My eyes blinked open and I could feel the tears begin to well in the corners of my eyes. As quickly as I could, I wiped them away but Emiline was staring at me, concern awash over her features. My sister's dark eyes had already seen me, and the worry that tinged them didn't fade when I smiled and assured her I was fine. Looking away in shame, I stared down at the table. The plates had been set, the white porcelain gleaming in the light from the lace-clad window, but the silverware had fallen to the floor when my fit had clutched me. Before I could move, Emeline had already scooped them up and placed them on the napkins. She'd put them in the wrong spots, I noted and set to work fixing them.
My twin whisked away, the sound of her boots echoing through the quiet room. She opened the kitchen door, slipping away behind it and I could smell the simmering stew from the kitchen. The aroma was warming against the chill that I could feel seeping in through the window. It had been a cold, miserable morning, winter's last clutching grasp before the spring arrived. Already the trees and lawn out the window were greening, some blossoms beginning to peek tiny buds in the garden near the fence. I'd been looking forward to the new year for months now. As the winter winds died down and warmth returned with the changing seasons, my coughing fits would also subside. At least, that's what had happened in years past. However, the few warm days we'd had already had still brought the race of pulse and shortness of breath that often tore me asunder. Sitting down, I reached into one of the pockets within the wool draped around my shoulders and pulled out a small vial. It was half full of pressed pills, little droplets of dark dried herbs and the shine of sap that kept them together. My palm open, I shook a few out and took them. The taste was bitter, biting into my tongue for the few seconds it took to swallow them and wash them back with the weak tea that had already grown cold in the delicate cup with gilded rim that I liked so much. Emeline's tea was likely still warm in her hulking ceramic mug, I thought, but the thin glass cup had been a gift I'd been given as a child and it brought me as much comfort as a warm drink might have.
"You've taken three doses today," Emeline said behind me. I jumped at her voice, not having heard her come back in. She had our bowls, and set them on the table. I felt that surge of shame again and looked down at my meal. Venison and radishes floated in the dark broth, a pod of anise floating in the middle. I could smell the strong spices, and my mouth started salivating. I wouldn't answer her, even though I knew her statement had really been a collection of questions - are you okay? Why isn't your medicine working? Why are you getting sicker? It made me tired to think about it, and I'd rather save my strength for the trip to the herbalist's later. The half full vial of pills was the last one I had. The silver clinked and chimed against the bowls, Emeline looking thoughtfully out the window as she ate, slurping the broth from the spoon without care for manners. Finally she turned her attention back to me.
"Do you think the Coreanveer is in bloom yet?" she asked. I stared at her for a moment, trying to guess what she was thinking though her expression was neutral behind the flash of glass in her spectacles.
"It's possible," I said. "Miss Miyam has a large supply in."
"Could you buy them fresh?" Emeline asked. I shook my head.
"She doesn't harvest them herself. She buys them dried already and grinds them down."
Emeline's mouth pursed into a frown, and I could tell she was thinking. I opened my mouth to tell her not to worry, that I would buy more today, that I would make my medicine a little stronger this time. I wanted to soothe her fears, though my brash sister would never admit that she was afraid for me. Before I could, however, she waved her hand as if she were shooing away the disappointment.
"We'll just have to go get our own, then." she said. I tilted my head at her, puzzled. What was she getting at? Did she somehow doubt that the supply I bought from was effective? As she shoveled a spoonful of meat and carrot into her mouth, broth splattering on the tabletop, she grinned at me. "I'b been reebing, Eshme." she sputtered, answering my unspoken question. My lips curled into an amused sneer despite myself.
"What did you find? And don't talk with your mouth full, it's gross."
My twin whisked away, the sound of her boots echoing through the quiet room. She opened the kitchen door, slipping away behind it and I could smell the simmering stew from the kitchen. The aroma was warming against the chill that I could feel seeping in through the window. It had been a cold, miserable morning, winter's last clutching grasp before the spring arrived. Already the trees and lawn out the window were greening, some blossoms beginning to peek tiny buds in the garden near the fence. I'd been looking forward to the new year for months now. As the winter winds died down and warmth returned with the changing seasons, my coughing fits would also subside. At least, that's what had happened in years past. However, the few warm days we'd had already had still brought the race of pulse and shortness of breath that often tore me asunder. Sitting down, I reached into one of the pockets within the wool draped around my shoulders and pulled out a small vial. It was half full of pressed pills, little droplets of dark dried herbs and the shine of sap that kept them together. My palm open, I shook a few out and took them. The taste was bitter, biting into my tongue for the few seconds it took to swallow them and wash them back with the weak tea that had already grown cold in the delicate cup with gilded rim that I liked so much. Emeline's tea was likely still warm in her hulking ceramic mug, I thought, but the thin glass cup had been a gift I'd been given as a child and it brought me as much comfort as a warm drink might have.
"You've taken three doses today," Emeline said behind me. I jumped at her voice, not having heard her come back in. She had our bowls, and set them on the table. I felt that surge of shame again and looked down at my meal. Venison and radishes floated in the dark broth, a pod of anise floating in the middle. I could smell the strong spices, and my mouth started salivating. I wouldn't answer her, even though I knew her statement had really been a collection of questions - are you okay? Why isn't your medicine working? Why are you getting sicker? It made me tired to think about it, and I'd rather save my strength for the trip to the herbalist's later. The half full vial of pills was the last one I had. The silver clinked and chimed against the bowls, Emeline looking thoughtfully out the window as she ate, slurping the broth from the spoon without care for manners. Finally she turned her attention back to me.
"Do you think the Coreanveer is in bloom yet?" she asked. I stared at her for a moment, trying to guess what she was thinking though her expression was neutral behind the flash of glass in her spectacles.
"It's possible," I said. "Miss Miyam has a large supply in."
"Could you buy them fresh?" Emeline asked. I shook my head.
"She doesn't harvest them herself. She buys them dried already and grinds them down."
Emeline's mouth pursed into a frown, and I could tell she was thinking. I opened my mouth to tell her not to worry, that I would buy more today, that I would make my medicine a little stronger this time. I wanted to soothe her fears, though my brash sister would never admit that she was afraid for me. Before I could, however, she waved her hand as if she were shooing away the disappointment.
"We'll just have to go get our own, then." she said. I tilted my head at her, puzzled. What was she getting at? Did she somehow doubt that the supply I bought from was effective? As she shoveled a spoonful of meat and carrot into her mouth, broth splattering on the tabletop, she grinned at me. "I'b been reebing, Eshme." she sputtered, answering my unspoken question. My lips curled into an amused sneer despite myself.
"What did you find? And don't talk with your mouth full, it's gross."