Tessa
“Why? Why am I so different, Lord?” Tessa leans against the window, her grey eyes looking larger than ever, brim-full with tears. “Nobody in this house, in this family, is like I am. Why?” Tears drop onto her cheeks then; the drops magnifying the freckles dotted across her nose and cheekbones. She leans her forehead against the cool glass, her unseeing eyes drifting past the people on the pavement outside the house. Some just walk by, with maybe a very short pause, before walking off briskly again. Others loiter on the pavement for ages, standing, twisting, checking their phone, doing nothing at all, before suddenly walking off. Unless somebody from the house speaks to them, then they will come in and hang around in the house. Brandon likes to bring people in; it’s artistic, he says.
Tessa gives a small sob, “Lord, I don’t want to be…so different; why am I so different? It’s too hard…” She sobs quietly, making her tiny frame fit into the window, as if drawing strength from the glass; as if by hugging the window pane people will see through her just as much; becoming like a glass figurine. “I wish I was invisible,” she whispers, her tiny hand trailing the glass. “I wish…” She stops, as a verse comes to mind, making her blush under her tanned skin, showing up her freckles even more… ‘who art thou to reply against God? Shall the thing formed say to him that formed it, Why hast thou made me thus? Has not the potter power over the clay…’ She sobs even harder now, unable to stop the tears flowing freely. “I know, Lord, I do know, but…but it is so hard, I don’t know how to do this anymore…”
After a while Tessa stops; she is exhausted, her frail frame supported by the window, her eyes still glittering with unshed tears. She wipes at her eyes, sniffs, her shoulders still quaking slightly from the exertion. Just as she turns away from the window she spots a dark shadow out of the corner of her eye, on the far end of the house. Brandon! That makes her forget all self pity, all questions and even her tiredness. Tessa rushes over to her room, and slides into her yoga outfit as fast as she can. “Quick,” she whispers frantically to herself, “quick, before he is in the house; before he comes looking for me…oh, do be quick! Oh! This zip, oh…oh!” she manages just in time, and Tessa is found, standing on the yoga mat, looking serene and composed when the door to the hobby room bangs open, and Brandon struts in. Tessa wills herself to stay looking serene, refusing to look round; making herself stretch and lean over to one side. She has learned that with Brandon that is the quickest way to get him out of the room. It works this time as well, and Tessa breathes out a huge sigh of relief, feeling her eyes filling up again. She takes another quivering breath, determined to stay calm, to not let the tears win again.
Brandon… It is hard to stop the bitterness, the anger rushing up into her heart. Brandon. Spiteful Brandon, hateful Brandon; Brandon the Charmer, as she calls him. His intense eyes always following her, despising her, mocking her. Her brother, just a little older, but totally different from her. She has their father’s darker skin, he has his dark eyes. From their childhood his dark intense eyes have taken things in with a ferocity nobody could tame. He claimed to be an artist, with a temperament to match his claim. He grew his hair longer, let a beard grow, and the dark hair seemed to frame his dark burning eyes, always following people, following girls especially. Trouble started as soon as he was promoted, although their mother stayed on with him for a while. Their mother had married a Townie, and Tessa had heard the rumours. Heard how marrying a Townie was asking for trouble. “You don’t know anything about them,” the whispered remark loud enough for Tessa to hear, “you don’t know anything abut their family, their heritage, or the sort of heirlooms they could give you. Of course, there are never any good upbringing traits either! You see, you never know what sort of genetics they will bring along. Marrying them is bad enough, but to have a child with a Townie…”
The voice had stopped rather abruptly, as the speaker had spotted Tessa nearby, her pixie like face scarlet with embarrassment. Tessa had spun round, and fled he room, throwing herself on her bed, crying buckets of tears. Tears of grief, of shame, and of embarrassment. That is when she had started to look at her family more closely. It didn’t take a genetics expert to see the problems in their family. Brandon was very much unlike their quiet father. Their mother was not the brightest, although she was very kind. She didn’t even have a job, just did her yoga, speaking to them in a calm, drawn out voice. Brandon was incorrigible, and made it clear that he was going to do things the Brandon Way, as he called it. He would sneer at his mother, and look down on his father. Until they had visitors.
Then suddenly Mr Charming would appear. Tessa feels tears welling up again; how she despises his charming act! He could trick anybody, she thought; anybody at all, even close relatives. He can be very witty, and kind, and very sweet. Until he feels at home with you, then the real Brandon will appear. She had hidden in her room the day he was promoted, fearing his spiteful remarks; fearing his choices and actions now he could make them independently. He had been pleased as Punch, looking down on his father even more vehemently than usual. Brandon had always felt Townies were there to serve, to be used, and the fact that he was now Active, and his father had never been served his Promotion papers was used to make his father feel less valued. Tessa had cried, feeling her heart breaking with sadness; she loved her father, thought he was the kindest, most patient man in all of SiMobile. She couldn’t bear her brother treating their father like that, but she was shaking with fear when she even contemplated talking to Brandon about it! So Tessa had watched from a hidden corner or a quiet room, as Brandon made himself the head of the new household.
Brandon had taken on their mother’s surname, Snow, for he said, “I don’t want the whole of SiMobile to realise my father was a Townie who managed to persuade my vulnerable mother to marry him.” This wasn’t true of course; Caitlynn Snow adored Layton Johnson, and had been thrilled to marry him. Many Townies aged at an alarming rate, so falling in love with one could easily lead to heartbreak. Caitlynn and Langton had been fortunate, and although he couldn’t have his promotion papers as the Active household was full, Layton appeared in all the family portraits. Tessa was proud of her parents, their achievement, and their long and happy marriage. She was pleased to have the Johnson surname, and as it turned out, some of the Johnson traits as well.
Tessa is in the bathroom, having a drink and a quick freshen up, when Brandon barges in. She freezes, and clutches on to the sink with one hand, to stop her hand from trembling too much. Brandon leans against the wall with one shoulder, sneering at her reflection in the mirror. “At least, when you’re promoted, or rather If you are promoted you will never need a Moving Permit, the wind will carry you anywhere in SiMobile!” he taunts, making her grey eyes sting, tears forming and making things look misty all of a sudden. “Anyway, just to let you know, it will be a while before you’re promoted, as I have just arranged a marriage with somebody. So of course, my wife will be promoted when our uncle lowers himself enough to actually accepts his Retirement papers.” He scowls the way only Brandon can scowl, his face contorted in anger. Tessa can feel her hands starting to shake more and more. Once Brandon is angry, he tends to wind people up…
“Anyway, you’ll meet her soon enough, as she can’t wait apparently! She is a fashion designer, so she will suit me perfectly. She’s obviously the arty type, so she’ll understand my sentiments, no doubt.” Brandon marches out as abruptly as he had come in, leaving Tessa standing at the sink, shaking. She clutches on to the ceramic washbasin, her legs trembling so much that they wont support her slender body anymore. Feeling sure that Brandon won’t come back in, she lowers herself onto the ground, tucking her chin between her knees, and feeling like a hedgehog seeking protection. Tears drop on her bony knees, sobs make her shoulders heave for a while, then she grows calmer. She blows her nose, and leans back, the cool tiles helping her body to cool down as well. She dries her tears, and breathes in as deeply as she can, then slowly releases her breath.
“Brandon has found a wife… I wonder what she’ll be like,” and hope plants a tiny seed in Tessa’s heart. To have another woman, about her age no doubt, here in this house…she smiles a little, and her tiny face lights up. Brandon would never agree to a marriage with an older woman, or somebody with three traits already, so it must be somebody young. Tessa leans back, her eyes staring at the ceiling, dreaming happy, wistful dreams of another young girl, a smiling girl, in the house. “Somebody to talk to, and laugh with,” she murmurs quietly, her grey eyes shining, “somebody kind and generous, and who will accept me…” Tessa sits there for a while happy daydreams making her cheeks glow, and her lithe body relax.
Suddenly, a shadow sweeps across her face, and she gasps in horror, “Oh no, Brandon says she will be like him, the artistic type; the one who will understand him!” And the spacious bathroom shrinks it seems, so Tessa struggles to catch her breath. The idea of another copy of Brandon living in the house, taunting her, and making biting remarks all day long…”Oh Lord, please not that! I couldn’t bear it, Lord, I just can’t live like that…” All during her yoga practice Tessa does what she always does during practice: she prays. She begs God to send the right kind of woman along; a kind and gracious woman. She prays for strength, for…for peace in the house as well as in her heart.
Brandon goes off one morning, wearing his smartest coat, a special Izzy Creation coat. Tessa can’t stand Izzy or his shop, so she refuses to wear any Izzy Creation clothes. Brandon doesn’t say anything, but he looks at Tessa with his dark eyes, mocking lights dancing in them. He is daring her to ask him about the girl he will meet, but Tessa refuses to fall into his trap. Brandon looks a little disappointed, he obviously had thought of a way to tease her. His parting remark is made with his sharp eyes looking at her directly, even though he addresses his remarks to their mum. “Well, I’m off, Mum. I might bring the future Mrs Snow along, you know, just to show her the house, get to know her a bit, that sort of thing… As soon as I’m gone, can you make sure to set the party things up? Don’t get it wrong please, first impressions are important…” He had laughed a mocking laugh at Tessa’s distressed face, and then he was gone.
Caitlynn had rolled her eyes, and in her calm voice had complained, “I don’t know why he always has to be like this. It’s not necessary to speak to people like that. It’s unkind as well, and it will give him a reputation if he isn’t careful!” Tessa had somehow managed to refrain from pointing out that Brandon already had a reputation which is why he so desperately needed an arranged marriage through a private network, rather than the usual SiMobile dating site. Instead she asked her mum about the girl Brandon was going to meet. “Oh dear, I don’t really know that much about her, your uncle arranged it all! Said he would retire as soon as the relationship was progressing well. He knew the family, I can’t remember just now, Italian sounding name I thought. The girl’s name reminded me of a flower, Camomile, something like that; oh no, it was Camilla, I remember now.”
Camilla it was, and a proud and beaming Brandon showed off his new girlfriend later that day, right at the start of the party. He was all over her; Tessa, watching from a distance, was horrified. The girl was falling for him, that much was certain. Tessa noticed the tiny tremors though, and the shocked expression on the girl’s face when Brandon kissed her right in front of other party goers! She saw the girl trying to slow Brandon down, but to no avail. By the time they went off to the little Café for their first official date, their relationship had progressed a lot already. Way more than usual, Tessa noted. “Camilla seemed alright,” she thinks, looking at their disappearing forms at the end of the pavement. “She has a nice smile, and a friendly open face, and she dresses very conservatively, so I think she might come from a nice family. I wonder what she thinks about Brandon, and whether she trusts him and his charm, or whether she realises he’s an actor; putting on a show to catch a girl. They do look happy together, and I’m pleased she managed to persuade him to tie his hair back at least. Now he doesn’t look so wild, and…and untamed…”
Tessa’s eyes mist over, she just fears what the future will bring. Her mum has talked about retiring, which means that Tessa might get the Promotion Letter. The idea of running the household with Brandon makes her feel physically sick every time she thinks about it. Yes, Camilla seems nice and friendly, but Camilla is also very outgoing, and ready to laugh. Camilla was dressed very modestly for the party and the relationship events with Brandon, but she already told Tessa that as soon as she is moving in, her wardrobe will make a most dramatic make over. Tessa’s heart sank at those words, especially when she sees Camilla lovingly fingering the material of various short tops, a dreamy glowing look in her eyes. Tessa frowns, and again wonders why she is so different! What is wrong with her; why can’t she laugh with abandon at Brandon’s edgy jokes, just like Camilla? Why do tears spring in her eyes every time Brandon mocks her, or says something nasty? Camilla just laughs, and elbows him, saying something witty back to Brandon, and the two will laugh and hug… Why can’t she do that? Tessa sniffs, her nose is running, and she walks to the bathroom to blow her nose, grief churning inside her; doubts flooding her heart, and the weight of loneliness making her feet struggle to carry her through the house. “Why am I like this, Lord?”