Author’s Note: Alex has been in my head for a long time. Their story will take place when they are older, but whenever I see them these days, I see Eliot Page playing an adult Alex, which makes me very happy.
“You’re a woman now,” Tessa declared proudly as she sat down.
Alex nearly spat out her cereal. “Jesus, Mom.”
“Well, it’s true.” Tessa’s spoon tinked against her mug. Constant Comment. One sugar.
“Do we have to talk about it at breakfast?” Alex blushed and disappeared behind the cereal box again.
Bradley never looked up from his tablet. “Did you really think you wouldn’t?” he asked his daughter.
“You’re laughing at me, Daddy!” She flicked a Lucky Charm at him. It stuck to his polo.
“Only smiling,” he conceded, dropping the cereal on his napkin.
Tessa paid no attention to her husband.
“So after breakfast, I thought we would light the candles in the meditation room, set the rosemary incense burning—”
“And I’ll struggle with The Art of Memory again while you sit on the cellar floor and talk with The Circle. That book is hard to read, Mom.”
“But you’re getting it.”
“Yeah—one page a day. And its got hundreds of pages…”
“Thank heavens I was able to help you pronounce some of those Greek, Italian, and Latin words!”
“My friends don’t have to learn Greek and Italian! Sarah’s parents don’t make her do it!”
“Well, Sarah’s not like you, is she?”
Alex appeared downcast. “I don’t know anyone like me.”
Tessa touched her daughter’s cheek. “That’s a good thing though, right?”
“Sometimes,” Alex conceded, though she still sulked a little.
Tessa tried again. “So when we get to the meditation room—“
“I’ll practice foreign languages—” Alex groused.
“Listen to your mother,” Bradley said before sipping his Earl Grey. Lemon, not milk. No sugar.
Alex rolled her eyes sarcastically. “Oh yes, mother of mine?” She smiled adoringly. “What will happen when we get to the cellar?”
“Meditation Room. And nevermind.” Tessa fake pouted.
“What?” Alex pressed, suddenly curious, grabbing the sleeve of her mother’s green sweatsuit jacket.
“No, no… It’s not worth discussing.” She sipped her tea and looked away theatrically, holding a hand aloft to block the sunlight as she examined the overhead light fixture. “Bradley, I think we should dust the chandeliers today.”
“Sounds good,” he replied. “Afterward, the two of you should see if Marblehead Little Theatre needs a pair of drama queens.”
Alex stuck her tongue out at her father, then resumed begging. “Tell me, Mom. Pleeeease?”
“I thought you didn’t want to talk about it?” Tessa asked.
“I don’t want to talk about… woman stuff. Especially in front of Dad.”
“I don’t want you to talk about it in front of Dad, either,” Bradley deadpanned.
“But you’re willing to listen?” Tessa grinned conspiratorially.
“Yes!”
Her mother made a show of cupping a hand to her ear. “I don’t think they heard you in Boston.”
“I’ll get louder,” Alex threatened with a Cheshire Cat grin.
Tessa shook her head. “Please don’t. I just thought for your eleventh birthday, I would help you create the first room in your memory palace?”
Alex nearly knocked over her juice.
“No way!”
Earlier attempts had failed, but whenever she asked for help, her parents exchanged cryptic glances and said, ‘when you’re ready.’ Alex had gotten heartily sick of only visiting limited places in her parents’ palaces, and not being able to build her own.
“So does this mean I’m ready?” She shook with excitement.
“Well, you are a woman now. It’s time.”
“Really?”
“Mm-hm.”
“Dad, are you coming, too?”
Bradley smiled but shook his head. “Your Mom has had ants-in-the-pants over this ever since you were born. This is for the two of you. Besides, it’s a woman… thing.”
After breakfast, Alex followed her mother down the cellar steps and into the cold, low-ceilinged meditation room beneath their red brick home on Salem Commons.
Tessa lit the candles and incense as Alex waited to enter the pentagram painted on the floor.
“Thus far you have been held at bay, Alexandra,” Tessa said as she handed her daughter a cushion. “But today you will find your power. Today you enter the star.” She directed her daughter to sit in the nearest triangular arm. Cellar windows at her back cast trapezoids of light on each side.
“You sound a little like grandmother did.”
Her mother smiled and shushed her with a finger.
“You know what to do. Open your chakras and meet me on my front porch.”
Alex nodded, closed her eyes, and disappeared. The speed with which she did so pleased Tessa quite a bit.
On its exterior, Tessa Hawthorne’s memory palace looked like a farmhouse in a Kansas field. Alex walked up the narrow path through the high grass. On the right, a large blue egg sat beneath an apple tree. On the left, a burnt cross flaked away in the wind. Her mother emerged from the house and sat in a rocker on the white porch. The screen door closed quickly, but made no noise when it slammed into place.
She motioned her daughter to a second rocker.
“That was great grandfather’s,” she said.
Alex nodded. She had seen it in old photos.
“Now before we start building, I should ask you a few questions. Do you know what your palace will look like? Have you given any thought to the exterior.”
“Uh-uh,” Alex said. “I don’t… I’m not comfortable—exactly—with the exterior. But I know what’s on the inside.”
“Odd,” Tessa said. “I thought for sure you’d make it Sleeping Beauty’s castle.”
“I was nine, Mom.”
“It was only two years ago.” She chuckled. “At least you didn’t put us through the princess routine. God knows what Aunt Stella and Uncle Archibald would have said. And Artemis would never have let me live it down.”
“Jason says his mother likes us a lot more than she lets on.”
Tessa let the comment go. Alex and Jason had been friends almost since birth. Artemis and her wife had long believed he would be an ideal suitor for Alex, but Tessa wasn’t so sure.
“So we’re going to build inside, not outside. That’s fine. I’m curious though, Al: why did you put those in my yard?”
“What?”
“The egg. The cross.”
Alex looked nonplussed. “You didn’t put them there?”
Her mother laughed. “Heck no! The apple tree is mine, and I let the grass grow long. But I didn’t put those others out there.”
Alex squinted to examine them more closely. The egg seemed alive. Shades of darker blue, almost to black, swirled around the shell, as if being stirred from inside. The cross looked… wrong. Something bothered her terribly about it.
“I don’t know, Mom. I might have put the egg there. But I don’t know why. The cross… there’s… I don’t know.”
Tessa patted her daughter’s knee. “Something disturbing. Don’t worry. We’ll figure it out later. Let’s go in and build.”
The front door opened into a cluttered living room. Newspapers and magazines covered the coffee table. Flowers and ribbon candy sat on the buffet. Home-sewn pillows sat on each chair and sofa cushion while afghans and quilts draped each back. Three oil paintings adorned the wall above the sofa: a wood-framed depiction of the farmhouse. A castle in a green valley framed in gold. And lastly, their home in Salem in a frame of interlocking oak helixes. A corner case was stuffed with knick-knacks; more of them sat on the end tables.
“This is the Sheehan genealogy. All my ancestors…” she picked up a snowglobe of a child playing a wintery park scene. “Right down to you.”
Alex peered into the globe trying to determine which memory it was. While she examined the globe, her mother took quick inventory of the room.
“So…” Tessa took the globe back. “Do you want to build downstairs or upstairs?”
“I think… I want to build my bedroom. That seems like a good idea.”
They ascended the stairs past a wall of portraits that always seemed to be watching.
“Who are they?” Alex asked.
“Family,” her mother replied. “But not by blood. Coven watchers.”
“That one’s empty.” Alex pointed to a small bronze frame with a black and white photo.
“That’s strange? Imogene in Portland. I’ll check with their coven after we finish.”
A green runner ran the center of the upstairs hall. Alex poked her head into the first room. It seemed to be filled with fog. She tried to see the contents, but nothing would come into focus, like the objects or the room were resisting her.
“You don’t want to focus in here,” Tessa said. “The charm protects us from them in more ways than one.”
“What are they?”
“Memories, Al,” Tessa said. “Everything in a memory palace is memories.”
“But a memory can’t hurt you.”
“Don’t be so sure,” Tessa said, and ushered her daughter out. “A memory palace contains everything a witch needs. We need good things—happy memories, flowers, family. A good potions lab—”
“You mean the kitchen,” Alex laughed.
“Yes. But we also need the bad memories, too…if only to learn from them. And sometimes…” She motioned to a place where a door should have been but wasn’t. “One needs a room of one’s own.”
“Does Dad have a room up here?”
Tessa chuckled. “Of course he does. But it’s not quite a room.”
“Can I see?”
“You’d have to ask him. He’d probably say yes, but we must respect—“
“Each others’ space, I know.”
“Good girl. So… why don’t you bring the door into being. Make it a good memory, so that you have good feelings moving between us.”
Alex closed her eyes, focused, and heard her mother exclaim with delight.
“Last year’s family Christmas photo?”
The frame was silver. Flecks of light glittered and twinkled along its edges. The frame did not hold a door, however; it just hung on the wall.
Tessa ran her hand up the trim. “It’s better than our photo. This silver is real.”
“What?”
“Feel it. It’s not painted wood. You made a silver doorway.”
Alex ran a finger along the metal, proud of her accomplishment.
“Okay. This is it. Make your room, Alex. Put whatever you like in it—whatever you need. As long as you can see it, come to it and build the rest of your palace from here. Just like Grandmother taught me. And her mother taught her. All the way back to Ireland.”
Alex closed her eyes again. Imagined a space—a place—of her own. She squeezed her eyes tighter. Paused. Reconsidered. Became worried.
Tessa took her hand.
“Relax, Al. You know what you need. Just breathe it into being. It will be okay.”
The intake of breath might have been hers. She kept her eyes shut.
“You didn’t make a door,” Tessa said.
Alex opened her eyes.
A cottony wall of white stood before them, filling the silver frame entirely.
“Well, I…” Alex frowned. “I wasn’t sure about… you know, maybe this is enough for one day.”
“Nonsense. Let’s see the other side of the cloud.” Tessa’s excitement turned to worry when she saw her daughter’s face. “Wait. What is it, Al?”
She bit her lip. “I think… I’m not sure what we’re going to find on the other side.”
“But you did make it, right?”
Alex nodded. “I just. I know you’re excited. But I don’t know if…”
“If?”
She hesitated. “If it will meet your expectations.”
Tessa pulled her daughter into a hug. “Al, when I created my first room, it included a lifesize poster of Alice Cooper.”
“Who’s Alice Cooper?”
“Someone my mother did not approve of. Whatever you’ve got on the other side of that cloud, Al, we’ll face it together. Alright?”
Alex pulled away, dubiousness in her expression; Tessa took her daughter’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “You first, since it’s your room.”
She squeezed her mother’s hand in return, took a deep breath, and held it as she passed through the cloud.
They stood still for what felt to Alex like an eternity.
“Well,” her mother finally said. The rest of her words disappeared in a fit of throat clearing.
Alex’s room was midnight sky. Stars had been plastered to the ceiling. The closet door stood open, filled with baseball tees, flannel shirts, and jeans. Several pairs of Chuck Taylors in a rainbow selection lined the closet floor, and a rack of ballcaps hung on the wall. A telescope similar to her father’s stood by the window. She had included a shelf reminiscent of the one in her physical bedroom: books on magic, books on art and sketching. Books on nature. But also books about war and combat. Sun Tzu.
“Where did you see those?” Tessa whispered, pointing to a whole section on gender identity.
“At the Barnes and Noble.” Alex replied softly.
Tessa noticed an empty picture frame on the nightstand. “Are you going to put a picture in?”
“Not sure,” Alex said. Their heart thumped rapidly. Sweat broke out on their brow. They wished their mother would make the next move. But when Alex turned, Tessa was gone. Well, I guess she did.
Alex took a book titled Gender Identity off the shelf and flopped onto the bed. Ten pages in, their Dad poked his head through the cloud.
“Mind if I come in?” he asked.
They motioned for him to sit at the desk.
Bradley let the silence linger, watching Alex read to the end of a section, then motioned to the doorway. “You know, if you put an actual door on there, no one will be able to just stick their head through.”
“I’m not keeping this room.” Alex said, still focused on the page.
He looked around. “Really? Cause I like it.”
Alex huffed.
“Hey,” Bradley spoke gently. “Alex? Al? Put the book down.”
“It’ll be gone when I leave. I need to read it now.”
Their father smiled. “That’s not how it works, and you know it.”
Alex lay the book open across their chest.
“Your mother sent me,” he said. “She’s worried about you. And she feels bad.”
They pursed their lips, skeptical.
“She does, Alex.”
“Then why did she leave?”
“You shocked her, you know?” Bradley looked out the window on a sandswept desert view. It wouldn’t always look that way. Alex’s mood would change it.
Alex rolled over to face their father.
“I know. I almost didn’t make this one. I almost made my friend Sarah’s room. But then I changed my mind.”
“So is this really your room? I see you have my telescope and my star charts.”
“It’s like Jason’s room. I like his ballcaps.”
“Ah.”
“But some of it’s mine. The sky is mine. The books are mine. I knew I needed them.”
“Are you happy with this room?”
Alex frowned.
Bradley waited as long as he could. “Well are you?”
Silence.
“Because if you are, you should keep it.”
“You’re just saying that.”
Her father shook his head. “I mean, maybe put a door on that wall…” he pointed opposite the closet. “So you could come visit my palace directly. And you could hang a full-sized poster of Mika there, too. You know Mom doesn’t like Europop.”
Alex rolled their eyes. “She already hates me.”
“No she doesn’t.”
“Then why did she leave?”
Bradley sighed. “A couple reasons. The first one is you caught her off-guard.”
They offered a put-upon sigh. “Sorry I can’t be what she wants.”
“Did she tell you that?”
“No.” Alex crossed their arms and stared at the wall.
“Then I think you need to talk with her. She’s downstairs.”
“She never left the palace?”
He shook his head. “She never left.”
“I was sure she would leave me here alone.”
Bradley put a hand on their shoulder. “Then you don’t know her as well as you think.” He stood up.
“Can I read this a while longer?”
“Bring it with you.”
“It’ll disappear.”
He shook his head. “A witch’s memory palace doesn’t work like a human one, Alex.” He paused. “Um… Is it okay to still call you Alex?”
They smiled. “Alex is fine.”
“Well, if your book disappears, I’ll take you to the store and buy you one myself. Or we’ll order it off the web. But you will have a copy of that book.”
“You’re serious?”
He nodded and smiled. She returned it, albeit timidly.
Tessa sat in her memory palace kitchen drinking a mug of chamomile. When Bradley and Alex joined her, she poured them each a cup. No sugar.
She smiled at Alex, but it was strained. “I’m sorry I didn’t respond to you the right way. I… I don’t know what to make of it.”
Alex held up their book. “Neither do I.”
“I see that. Can I try to explain what I was thinking? Will you listen?”
A nod. They clutched the book tightly in both hands.
“First, I thought my presence was unfair to you and your father.”
“What?”
Tessa nodded. “I told you about my family tradition. The women passed the first room tradition down. But if I had paid more attention, I might have focused on you more than myself. Your father would have helped you make your first room.”
“Well you didn’t have to walk out.”
“I felt angry and disappointed—“
“You never let me storm out.”
Bradley frowned. “Just listen, Alex. Please?”
“I was wrong to leave,” their mother said. “I’m sorry I did it, but it’s done. And I’m still not comfortable with this new you.”
Alex’s mouth dropped. “But I’m still me!”
Tessa motioned for them to calm down. “I know you are. I know that. Whatever my challenges are with this new… this version of you, they are my problems alone. Not yours.”
Alex frowned and stared at their tea.
Bradley sighed. “Like mother like… um…” he trailed off.
Tessa raised an eyebrow. “It seems we all I have a lot to learn about this… different–“
“Same.”
“Same… but different, you. We’re going to need time, and we’re going to need you to be patient with us.”
“And to help us understand,” Bradley added. “Like what pronouns do I use with you? He? They?”
“I don’t know yet,” Alex said. “Can we use ‘they’ for now?”
Her father nodded. “That’s fine.”
“So you’re both really okay with this?”
Tessa smiled. “You’re my d… My s…” She sighed. “My child. I love you, and it will be fine. I promise. Besides, the only person who needs to be okay with this is you. Are you okay with it?”
In Alex’s new room, an image of the three of them drinking tea appeared in the empty frame. A full-sized poster of Mika unrolled itself from the center of a brand new door. Outside, the blue egg cracked, and a winged horse, shining sable, leaped into the sky and faded away.
“Yeah,” they said. “I am.”
Nicanor Abbott 