1647
My afternoon was plagued with dishes in the kitchen. I opened the windows and back door to get the breeze. I took the first of the dishes in my hand, scrubbing it hard with a damp cloth and salt. The caramelized stains from the onions stuck to the pot like how an oyster clings to a pier. Sweat formed on my brow. It wasn‘t long before my mind started drifting.
I thought about what romance was like. I had only seen Martijne gallivant around town with Jan—but was that love? The stirring of romance and passion is different from love, I knew that. But I could not recall a time I had felt that either. Nor had I seen it in my parents. Love was a kind of mystery to me. The cynic in me refused to see it as magic as many young girls do, but more of a stirring in one‘s soul.
Meneer gave me that feeling of mystery. The way he moved about, so unlike a gentleman, yet having all the entrapments of one. His manner was both strange yet compelling to me. I never had the compulsion for someone before, but he had a charm about him.
I reached for the next dish and the next. Pushing a lock behind my ear, I scrubbed hard on the stuck fish skin and braised muck. The stain wouldn‘t lift. I sat next to the sink, arranged my position on the stool, and scrubbed harder. The curls kept falling in front of my eyes no matter how hard I pushed them back. The cap did nothing.
“Ah!” I threw the pan against the wall and it fell to the floor with a loud clang.
A tear rolled down my cheek. Before I knew it, tears and cries escaped from my chest like an unholy demon. I fell to the floor, clasping my sides as I gasped.
My mind raced. ‘Everything’s gone to shit.’
I cried for my father. That stupid explosion. If only the buskrit had been stored better. If only Pa had not gone to the castle that day and given over everything he had caught one week early. He would still be here.
Some in the town said the explosion was the will of the Lord. Lightning struck the Powder Tower where the garrison‘s supply of gunpowder was stored. So many lives lost. I hated that excuse. God would never want his own harmed, no matter who they are.
I clutched my mouth to stop the screams and cries from escaping. I squeezed my eyes until the tears rolled down. My cheeks burned against my hand. I felt my body collapse onto the tiles.
How could Mama have moved on so quickly? Pa had barely rested his body into the ground and she had already committed to the man living across the way, with three children of his own. She waited one year to marry but secretly slipped into his bed chambers each night until the day they could wed. It made me sick to my stomach.
My eyes opened gently as the bile settled. I saw the smashed plate and water spill across the floor. I only hoped no one would see my mess.
© Claudia Merrill 2023-12-06