Gregory stretched as the morning sun slipped past the shutters, the light bathing his face. “Ugh, stupid ball of hate,” he muttered as he sat up. Rubbing at his eyes, he wondered if today would go the way he had hoped for, for so long, or if the world was about to kick him in the nuts.
A heavy knock rattled his door and the deep voice of his father boomed, “Gregory Russel Pettit, get your ass out of bed. It’s your age day, for Krog’s sake.”
“I’m up!” Gregory shouted back, before lowering his voice, “You old cranky bastard.”
Mumbles and heavy footfalls going away from the door was the only response from Gregory’s father.
“At least Mom would have been nice about it,” Gregory said, feeling the ache in his chest.
The image of her standing across the room, chiding him gently, made the pain deepen. Gregory could almost see the strawberry blonde hair, green eyes, and smiling face that she wore when she had last done so. Come on now, it’s your age day. You’ve been waiting for this for the last ten years. I know you’ll be a mage, so don’t hang around in here. Gregory supplied her voice to go with the image.
“You’re right, Mom,” Gregory sighed as he got out of bed, “even if the ceremony isn’t until midday.”
Getting dressed did not normally take long, but today, it took him almost twice as much time. Every mark he had left on the room made him pause— the gouge in the window when he had thrown a knife at a bat; the cracked floorboard that he had tried to pry up, thinking there was treasure underneath, when he was five; the notches on the doorframe as he had grown taller.
Finally dressed, he took another long look around the room. “Goodbye… after today, I’ll be off to the academy, and I doubt I’ll be back.” Gregory was not sure if he was talking to himself. What he hoped was that his mother’s spirit was watching over him, or even the room. Saying goodbye made him feel better.
With everything that was legally his packed in the bag slung over his shoulder, he was ready to go. Opening the door, he could hear his father’s mumbled curses along with the clang of the soup cauldron. As he went down the hall, he braced himself for his father’s normal rants. Today I’ll be civil, for Mom. She would want me to leave on a good note.
Leaving the short hall, Gregory entered the main room. His father, a bear of a man, stood over the wood stove. Gregory pulled the two leather jacks off the wall and filled them with water from the barrel in the corner to put on the table.
“I’m glad we’ll finally put this foolish nonsense to rest today,” Carmichael grunted as he brought the small cauldron over to the table.
Gregory’s jaw set, but he bit back his normal reply. Instead, he grabbed the wooden bowls and spoons that they always used and set one in front of his father.
Carmichael eyed him, “Not going to talk back today? Good. You’re finally growing up and accepting the idea that you’ll be joining the mine after all, then.”
Gritting his teeth, Gregory did his best to do what his mother would have wanted him to. “If I test negative, then I’m sure I will, but I haven’t given up on my dream, Father.”
Snorting, Carmichael served himself a generous portion of the thin soup and broke off a chunk of stale bread. “That’s your mother’s doing. She never should have filled your head with those stories.”
The pain and anger surged up in his chest. Gregory’s teeth ground as he clamped his mouth shut, both hands gripping his thin knees painfully tight. Don’t react… don’t rise to the bait. He’s goading you, Gregory told himself over and over again.
When he could open his hands, he served himself and saw that his father was almost done eating. “Mother did tell me the stories, Father, and she cautioned me, too, but she knew that dreams are worth having.”
“Dreams!” Carmichael spat the word angrily. “Dreams!? Dreams are what took her from us!” His heavy hand thumped the table, making everything on it shake. “Her damned dreams… always ready to listen to them… leaving us…” His father shoved himself away from the table and stormed off.
Gregory sat there, stunned. In the years since her death, his father had never walked away like that. Anger and sadness would normally lead to his father fighting with him, leaving Gregory bloody and beaten, but still clinging to his dreams.
Alone at the table, Gregory stared at the puddle of soup spilled on the wooden surface without seeing it, then shook his head and began to eat. I’ll need my strength if the rumors are true. Mother, will you be proud of me? Gregory wondered as he ate.
His father had not come back by the time he finished, so Gregory cleaned up the table and dishes, putting everything back in its place. His hand lingered next to his mother’s bowl, which had a thin layer of dust on it. He dropped his hand and turned to face the empty room.
“I’m off to start my journey. Thank you for all you’ve done for me. I’ll try to make you proud, Mother… you too, Father.” With nothing more to say, he bowed his head for a few seconds before he walked out of the small home. Two paths led from there; one toward the mine, and one to the village.
Walking down the familiar road, Gregory thought back to all the times he had come this way over the years— every other day for school for most of his life; for supplies when needed, after mother died; and the few times he was free to go visit his friends.
Never did ask why we live so far from the village. I always assumed it was Father’s doing, but maybe it was Mother’s? When she was alive, Father always did as she asked. She was never wrong… the thought hung in his mind for a moment, but he looked down at the ground sadly. Foolish, you just don’t remember her being wrong anymore.
He took his time getting into town, recalling more childhood moments. He remembered the tree that Gunnar fell out of a few years ago, which had knocked out two of his teeth, and the bush that he and Gunnar had hidden behind to scare the Delarosa twins eight years ago.
The sun was well up by the time he made it to the village. The festival pole was brightly decorated, and the sound of music drifted to him on the light breeze. Age day came on the same day every year, but that date was different depending on where in the Velum Empire you were. It was so the proctors could go from place to place testing the children who had become adults. In Alturis, it was two days short of midsummer.
The village bustled with activity, as the traveling merchants that always came with the proctors set up around the village square. Touching the nearly empty pouch on his hip, Gregory sighed, knowing he would not be buying anything today. Two steps past the first building, he was suddenly on his back in the dirt.
“Greg! Thought for sure your old man was going to lock you in today,” Gunnar laughed from above him.
“Get off, you lumbering brute,” Gregory laughed. “What if the twins see you?”
“Too late,” came the laughing reply from Eloria. “We knew you two were close, but not this close.”
“Well, it would explain a few things,” Amoria added with a laugh.
“Fuck me,” Gregory sighed.
“Sorry, I’m just not that kind of boy,” Gunnar laughed as he got to his feet and offered a hand to Gregory.
“Thank the gods,” Gregory grunted, dusting himself off.
“Ready to find out?” Amoria asked, stepping behind Gregory, and helping clean the dust off his upper back.
“Have been for years, even if no one from the village has been chosen for the last twenty. Today, I say goodbye to you all, though I’ll come back as soon as I can.”
“He’s always been confident on that front, at least,” Eloria sighed.
“It’ll be good for him,” Gunnar said. “Krog knows he’d never survive in the mine.”
“I’m not like you, you brute,” Gregory said, looking at his friend. Gunnar was the third largest man in the village, behind their fathers.
“He’s not wrong,” Eloria said. “You’ve never filled out like your father. You’ve always taken after your mother.”
Gregory chuckled, “You mean I’m a kind, sensitive man, who cares for those around him, instead of a giant lumbering beast? Thank you.”
“She means you’re a beanpole,” Amoria corrected him gently. “Frankly, it’s idiotic for your father to push you to follow in his footsteps. You could apprentice to our father. The offer is still open.”
“I appreciate it, but I’m leaving today. Your father was always kind enough to humor your attempts to get me on as his apprentice. We all know that you or your sister will be taking over the business.”
Amoria’s face went through a few emotions before she sighed, “Us, or one of our husbands.”
“And they will be lucky men,” Gregory said with all sincerity. “You two are the beauties of our humble village.” He meant what he said: the brown haired, hazel eyed, olive-skinned women were the best-looking women in the village, taking after their mother.
Gunnar shook his head, “Past that, we have hours still until we’re needed at the square. Shall we join the others, or go to my home instead? Ma was baking sweetbread when I left.”
Eloria perked right up, brushing her long hair behind her ear, “I love your mother’s sweetbread.”
“If we don’t let her go, she’ll be impossible for the rest of the day,” Amoria said.
“Hah, as if you don’t love it, too.”
“To Gunnar’s it is,” Gregory said, trying to defuse the impending argument.
“Onward,” Gunnar laughed, pointing toward his house as he began to walk.
“Onward! To the sweets,” Eloria laughed as she grabbed Gunnar’s extended arm and hung from it briefly.
“Greg,” Amoria said softly as she fell into step beside him, “I wanted to ask you something, but I don’t want to upset you.”
“What if I don’t become a magi?” Gregory asked the question he knew was coming.
“Yes.”
“I don’t know, Ria. I don’t believe that will happen… but, if it does, I’m going to be a wreck. You know that.”
“We all do,” Amoria said softly, reaching out to take his hand in hers. “I’ll be here for you, like I was when…” She trailed off, not wanting to finish.
His hand tightened on hers. “I know. If I was going to stay here… maybe I’d have the courage to…” Gregory trailed off, knowing if he finished, it would ensure he stayed in the village.
Amoria’s heart skipped a beat and she held his hand tightly. “First, we have to complete the coming of age ritual. The sweetbread should help. I know you don’t eat well most days. I have some jerky in my pouch, too, if you’d like to share it.”
Always taking care of me, Ria… You deserve so much more than this village will ever give you. More than I’m going to be able to give you, no matter what happens today. Gregory thought and smiled softly. “Maybe after the bread.”
“Okay.”
Walking behind Eloria and Gunnar, a moment of knowing came to him. Gunnar and Eloria would marry and have three children that they would dote on. Gregory stumbled, distracted by the certainty of the knowledge.
“Greg?” Amoria asked.
“My feet lost their way,” Gregory chuckled. “Luckily, you had my hand.”
Amoria blushed, “As long as you need me to.”
She was the one who picked me up after Mother was found. Father was as broken as I was, and he didn’t have anyone to help him. Maybe that’s why he became so bitter and angry. Amoria’s soft hand squeezing his broke him out of the thoughts.
“Oy, you two coming?” Gunnar laughed when he looked back and saw them trailing behind.
“As if we’d get lost on the way,” Gregory called back.
“But if we take too long, El might have eaten all of the sweetbread before we get there.”
“Who had the majority last time, hmm?” Eloria sniped back at her sister.
“And who was it the four times before that, I wonder?” Amoria returned the jibe.
“Easy,” Gunnar said when Eloria opened her mouth to retort. “I’m sure Ma is making enough for everyone to have their fill.”
Eloria snorted and pulled on his arm, “Let’s go. If they want to stroll and miss it, let them.”
“Go on, Gunnar. We’ll be right there,” Gregory said when his friend started to dig in his heels. “Always listen to the woman you’ll marry.”
Eloria went beet red, letting go of Gunnar’s arm and walking faster. Gunnar rolled his eyes and frowned back at Gregory, silently chiding his friend. Amoria let go of Gregory’s hand and took off after her sister.
“El, wait for me!” Amoria called after her sister.
Gregory slowed his pace more as the three left him behind. The sound of merriment coming from the square was at odds with the weight he felt on his shoulders. Shouldn’t have said that, but she’s always been hanging on him… it’s obvious they’re going to marry. He’ll work in the mine, probably be the next foreman. Maybe they’ll have forgiven me by the time I get there.
~*~*~
“Excuse me, I’m coming in,” Gregory announced, pushing the front door of his friend’s house open. Pausing to unbutton his boots and put them next to the others, it struck Gregory that he had stopped doing the same at home after his mother had passed. A week after Mom died… so much changed with her gone.
“Gregory, it’s good to see you today,” Mrs. Emery smiled as she came out of the main room. “The others have already started eating.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Emery.”
“What delayed you?” Mrs. Emery asked.
“Stray thoughts.”
“I’m sure you’re having a lot of those today,” she said kindly. “I agreed with my boy; he was going to go get you if you weren’t at the square in another hour. Happily, your father didn’t try to keep you home.”
“He wouldn’t break the laws, not like that,” Gregory replied. “He just expects me to fail and go crawling home to beg his forgiveness.” His voice had taken on an angry edge that he tried to bite back.
“Things have been tough for you and your father since Marian’s passing. I always hoped that the worst of it would pass, but I’ve come to accept that it won’t. You have a place here tonight, if you need it.” Her voice held equal parts sadness and warmth.
Gregory bowed his head to her, “I won’t be needing it, but thank you.”
“Of course, you are going to go on to greater things. Your mother always told me so— she would talk about little else when we had tea together. I’ve never known anyone who believed as strongly as she did, besides maybe you.”
Throat tight, Gregory nodded his head. “Thank you, Mrs. Emery.”
“Oh, here I am prattling on when you came here for the sweetbread. Come now, let’s get you some food and maybe some of that juice you like so much, hmm?”
Gregory chuckled, “I liked it when I was a child, but I’ve grown out of that.”
“Of course, of course,” she smiled, leading him into the main room where the others sat around the table. “Gregory made it. I trust you’ve left him some.”
Eloria pouted, but nodded, “We didn’t eat it all… yet.”
“Thank you, Elly,” Mrs. Emery smiled at her. “I’ll make another batch tomorrow. Why don’t you come over and I can show you how to make it, okay?”
The others blinked at the offer, because Mrs. Emery’s sweetbread recipe had always been a tightly guarded secret. Eloria spoke up when the silence started to stretch, “I’d be happy to learn, Mrs. Emery.”
“Tsk, call me Yeva,” she corrected Eloria. “After midday, you’re an adult, after all. There’s no harm in starting a little early.”
“If that’s what you want, Yeva.”
“Good. Now Gregory, you sit over there and I’ll go get that juice.”
When she went into the kitchen, Gregory chuckled, “Sharing her recipe? I never thought I’d see that happen.”
Gunnar grimaced and kicked Greg under the table. “She’s always liked El.”
Gregory kept the pain off his face, even though he could feel the bruise forming on his shin. “You’re right, she has always taken a shine to her.”
“Even more than me,” Amoria said. “El’s always been welcomed here a bit more readily.”
Gunnar coughed, “Well, yeah, that’s true… Krog’s buttocks… Fine!” Taking a deep breath, Gunnar looked at Eloria seriously, “El… I was going to wait for this, but since Ma is already moving forward, I can’t not. Would you consider me as a suitor?”
Eloria spluttered and started coughing, the glass she had been drinking from forgotten in her hand. Amoria patted her sister on the back, and Gregory did his best to not laugh at the panic on Gunnar’s face.
“Now!? You ask me now?!” Eloria finally managed when she could speak again. “Gunnar, you stone headed moron!”
Gunnar’s face fell, and Gregory no longer found it funny. He started to interject, but Amoria beat him to it.
“El, don’t. He is trying, at least.”
Eloria’s face fell and she began to cry, “I’ve been waiting for years, years for today to come. I always hoped that you would give some hint, any suggestion, that you liked me as more than a friend, and you spring this on me, now? I wasn’t ready for now… after the ceremony, I would have been.”
“Son, why are you making her cry?” Yeva asked, bustling back into the room and thunking a cup of juice down in front of Gregory. “Go on, now. Take her to your room and talk with the poor girl.”
Gunnar stammered, but quickly got to his feet and held out a hand to Eloria. Eloria was still sniffling when she took his hand and let him lead her from the room. Amoria watched them go with a bit of jealousy on her face, her eyes flickering briefly to Gregory and then away. Gregory missed her look as he watched two of his best friends start down the road that he had briefly glimpsed less than an hour before.
“Three kids, huh?” Gregory muttered as he watched them leave the room.
“Three would be good,” Yeva said, taking a seat at the table. “I swear he’s as awkward as his father was at that age. I’m glad he finally asked… he’s been pining for her since the second time she came to visit. No offense to you, Amoria.”
“Oh, none taken. She’s been the same for him. When he hit his spurt and grew into the broad-chested man he is now, she couldn’t stop gushing about him,” Amoria replied, but a hint of sorrow entered her voice. “I guess that means I’ll be taking over for Father, after all.”
“You’ll do well as the clothier,” Yeva said, patting her hand. “Tomorrow can bring all kinds of changes.”
“I know and I hope,” Amoria said.
Gregory felt as if part of the conversation was going over his head, but he took a drink of juice instead of asking about it. Taking a chunk of the sweetbread, he absentmindedly chewed on it and wondered what other unexpected events the day would bring.
