Archive of Our Own ^beta

I look at the pile of books I’ve read more than once. Father is in the other room reviewing Speaker Girls for me. He said the Bell’s have a daughter who is my age. I’ve met her before, but only for greetings. I sick my feet up on the desk.

“Borrring.” I sigh, and lay my head back. My mind starts to wander.

I think about mom, her violet eyes, her tall slim figure. She would always read to me when I would beg her. She would curl me up in her lap and read to me.

She was so beautiful, I wonder if I’ll ever be that beautiful. She used to run her fingers through my hair and laugh before kissing my head. Father was always busy or using me as an image.

“Oh look at my son! He is perfect and strong,” he says and I had to go with it. I’m far from perfect, I’m far from a man.

One day while mom and I were reading she told me was sick. I told her she would probably get better but she told me it was complicated but she loved me more than anyone else in the world.

She read to me her favorite book. One of her prized possessions, she was shopping for some books and she came across it and bought it. It’s her favorite book in the world, she said she could read it 20 times everyday forever and never get bored of it.

I look at her old jewelry box. When she died father wanted to get rid of it but I lied and said I would give it to a future wife of mine. He asked me why I would get a new one and I said that I wanted to give them something that makes them feel a part of the family.

He didn’t fully believe me.

I look at mom’s book. I begged him to keep it, I said I wanted something of hers and if I could keep anything from her it would be this. He finally gave in. I get up and go to mom’s old closet, left untouched because father felt it was wrong. I look through her dresses again.

Black and grey and cold and dark colours. It reminds me of photos of some female writers I’ve seen. Mom would create many ideas.

One time she invented a whole world. Of magic. She would tell me stories about it and even let me name it.

Fuck I don’t even remember what I named it. But I probably named it after a colour or something like that. I go to father’s office.

“Son!” He acknowledges me, “come here.” I sit in the chair across from his. “I have news, the Bell’s daughter Gloria Bell will be your wife,” he passes me a small painting. “I hope she will fix this….phase…and she will help you embrace being a man.”

I look at the painting. Violet eyes. Everyone looks for in boys. Mom had violet eyes. This girl even shares a similar shade of Violet. “Yes Father.” I mumble.

“Edward…” he sternly says.

“Yes Father! I understand.” I repeat and he smiles.

“You will be attending the Gala with me. The boy that was supposed to get his seal got ill.” He then sends me away.

“Yes father.” I get up and go to my room. What would mom think? What would she do about me? I know she is probably a spirit of sorts. I sometimes practice when I’m alone in the house and it’s very very late. I practice telling her. I would tell her I am her daughter and my name is Daphne and I would say the poem I got it from. Daphne and Apollo.

When I was 14 I chose to get it tattooed on my back. Father said it looked feminine but I said that the poem was about something masculine but he probably didn’t believe me. So I stuck with the story of writing and he hasn’t made too many comments.

I know why he always questioned me.

Because I’m different.

Even as a child when mom would do her makeup I would ask for some but Father would come in and say that it’s for girls.

It never made sense to me. But one day it all hit me.

Not like a ray of sunshine but like a wave. Taking you under as you try to figure out to survive. I was scared.

Then there was the conversation about wives. What woman would want me? Who would want me? What would Bell be like? Would I be able to fix myself? Father sometimes says that a wife who is good and cares for her husband deserves a husband that is masculine, protective and smart.

***

A few nights later it’s the Gala. Father is in an extreme outfit that makes my eyes wanna bleed. I chose the more simple option. I was inspired by mom’s old clothes to get a writer look. I carry around a book.

I make small talk here and there. Eventually I meet the parents of Bell. They tell us about their child, how they hope that I’ll make sure she stays in line. What does that mean? Does she need fixing?

***

He never needed any fixing. I met HIM. Silas Bell. A handsome surgeon. He’s like me. He’s like me. He is like me! I felt like this was a trial. Like I had to deal with so much to meet him.

I love him.

I know mom would love him and think he is an incredible man.

I pull out a paper and pen, I’ve heard of people who write to the dead. Maybe if I leave it somewhere mom will read it. Wherever her spirit is.

Dear mom

I love you, I miss you so much. My name is Daphne and I’m your daughter. I’ve meet someone who’s like me, his name is Silas. He is my husband. I used to not really believe in soulmates but in the universe pit us together then I guess we are soulmates. He killed father, and I hope you are making sure he gets pay back. We’re expecting a child. Silas and I were ready. I promise I’ll always remember you, I still have your old clothes and books. I couldn’t part with them. I love you mom.

-Daphne

Silas comes up behind me. “I’ll leave some tiles in case she wants to say anything.” He says and I smile. He is incredible.

“Thank you Silas,” I kiss his head, “that means so much to me.” He places some and takes my hand.

***

A few hours later Silas tells me to go to the window where I left my letter. I walk over and see….

Daphne

My beautiful daughter, I’m so happy I am your mother. I love you too. I miss you so much. Take care of yourself.

Love Mom

I tear up, Silas holds me close. “Daphne?” He places my face in his hands and I smile.

“I’m fine, just….never thought I would talk to my mom again…” I say and he holds me tight. “Thank you Silas. For everything.”

“I love you Daphne.” He looks at the tiles on the window.

“I love you too.”

The end