Chapter Text
April 1935
Even though you have a nanny[1] and plan on adding a tutor in the fall[2], there comes a time in every upper-class woman’s life that she actually has to spend time with her child. So you are spending this morning in the nursery with John before you go out to one of your many club meetings. You are sitting on an uncomfortable chair next to a small table. In your hand is a Bloody Mary, the new popular cocktail of the 1930s. Alcohol isn’t one of your favorite drugs, but it is popular with the humans. Now that it’s been legalized, it’s hard to socialize without partaking. Your saintly husband/moirail never partook of anything but sacramental wine during the thirteen years of Prohibition and even now doesn’t drink, but he doesn’t begrudge you drinking. He hates that you use sopor slime, but there’s no prohibition he can use against you. So here you are, the night after you schmoozed with your husband’s political party, nursing your hangover with tomato juice and vodka.
Little six year old John is very cute. Cute as a button. Perhaps too cute for you when you’re under the malaise of alcohol. Your Collapsing And Expanding Bladder Based Aquatic Vascular System hurts when you think of your situationship with this tiny human. One day he’ll grow up and some human woman who isn’t even a member of the nobility will take him from you and since this species has only one quadrant you’ll be left in the cold. All your work for nothing. At least you can enjoy your time now.
He is currently holding up a globe that with his small stature is the size of his torso.
“An’-and Dad got me this globe, which is the whole world! I mean, it’s supposed to be what the whole world looks like! I guess the world has this gold bar thing on it to keep it in place, right?” he asks.
“Uh-huh,” you say.
He shoves the globe in your face.
“Where are you from?”
“Canada.”
“No, but WHERE in Canada?”
“Maritime Provinces.”
He points at Canada. “But which province?”
“The province that’s in Canada!”
He shoves the globe more insistently. “Come on, Mommy, show me on the globe where you’re from!”
You point at Scandinavia. “I am descended from the Vikings, proud warriors who made the seas roll as red as this drinkie.”
He looks at the globe. “S-sewenden? But that’s where your grandpa and grandma are from. Where are you from?”
“Kid, why does it matter where I am from? Are you an immigration officer? They alreedy cleared me.”
“I want to go there some day!”
“No you don’t. There’s nothing worth it in Canada or whatever dirthole Dad is from. Everyone is swimming to the United States and nobubbly is swimming out of the United States. This is the only civil-sea-zation you need.”
“Why can’t you just tell me?”
You snarl, “Because I get to decide what clam-formation you get and what you don’t, I am the mother here.”
“B-but my globe! My dad’s present! He wants me to learn about the world!”
He’s pushing the globe in your face, this present from your moirail, so you sweep out your arm and knock the globe across the room. Quickly putting your drink on the table, you grab your son and throw him into your lap. You spank him three times, definitely not as hard as you could. This gives you a rush of excitement, followed by a rush of shame just as strong. You burst into fuchsia-colored tears, but luckily your black handkerchief is there for you. John falls off of your lap.
John asks, “Mommy?”
“Oh god, that was horribubble,” you say, “I feel so terribubble, I’m the worst mommy.”
“Mommy? No, don’t be sad, it didn’t hurt that much.”
“So you are sorry you made your mommy do that? You’re sorry you made mommy lose her temper like that?”
“Um, yeah, mommy, I’m sorry.”
You sweep John into a big hug. “Oh my sweet boy, I forgive you.”
John shivers. “So cold…”
You pull back. “I suppose I can’t do anyfin right in your eyes, huh? It’s so hard being a mother. It’s hard and nobubbly understands.”
The rush of emotion over, you take a cigarette out of your purse and light it. Now this is a drug you like better than alcohol.
“Look, kid,” you say, “My life before I met your father was ab-sole-utely meaningless. You’ll know this when you meet your soulmate.”
He has gone over to where the globe was and picked it up. He looks over all the countries of the world, knowing now they are meaningless compared to the United States of America, the country where you have citizenship, more importantly the country where he your pitch soulmate has citizenship.
“Huh…” he says.
You finish your drink. “Now, I’m swimming to my book club meeting. We were sea-posed to read ‘The Good Earth’ but I don’t think anyone has read it. I guess it’s an excuse to drink rice wine and eat chop suey and play Mah-Jong and discuss Sun Yat-Sen’s failures. Can’t wait until the movie comes out. Ciao.”
John has put the globe back on the bookcase where it was before. “Sun Yat-sen…” he says to himself.
So you leave the nursery and when the door closes behind you, you give a hate-lorned sigh. It’s so hard being around John, but you’d be lost without him.
[1] From England, very posh
[2] The indigoblood Galekh Xigisi, pretending to be from England, very very posh