Chapter Twenty-Two: Erma Tinks

Chapter Twenty-Two

A week had passed.

Jade rarely ventured out of her room. I hadn’t seen her since the second day after Krystal’s abduction, when she came to ask if she could borrow either mine or Gavin’s laptop. Then, she was unusually quiet; it was a trait of my father’s when he was upset or overworked.

While Jade hid from the world, I’d spoken with Sir Harold.

“Do you think there’s anything we can do for her?” He asked me, twirling his long beard around his finger.

“She needs some time to herself, but I think if you give her that time, and then offer her a chance to come back to the real world, she’ll be less likely to hit you again.” I based my judgment off my father’s behavior more than my knowledge of Jade, mostly because I hadn’t known Jade long enough to predict her actions. She acted so much like Joseph Borealis however, imagining what my father would have done seemed logical.

Sir Harold massaged his bruised chin. “Erma thinks that not getting punched is desirable.” He chuckled for no apparent reason other than to laugh.

I took the moment to ask something that floated into my head. “I’m pretty sure Erma is your boot, but why do you depend on her guidance as much as you do?”

Sir Harold continued smiling but his voice sounded serious. “For starters, Erma is not a ‘she’; Erma is a female who can only be described by a pronoun so rich, our petty human understanding of language cannot comprehend, so Erma is Erma.” He nodded once. “That being explained, I will now proceed to answer your question.” He waited to see if I was listening. “Erma, being a female, is infinitely wiser than all men, but Erma is also superior to your kind, except perhaps one famous woman from history.”

“Joan of Arc?” I teased, remembering how she was burned at the stake for hearing voices.

“No, Ellen DeGeneres.” Sir Harold would’ve made a good history teacher. “Anyways, I met Erma back in my days as a television psychic, while on a fishing trip. It was sort of an accident really, but Erma and I met in the Florida Everglades; I’d gotten my leg stuck in the mod up to my hip and Erma just happened to be close enough Erma could pull me out. Erma grabbed my unburied foot, which was position on top of the mod. Since then, Erma has always been my loyal friend and companion; she’s even been there for me when women refused my charm.”

“I see,” Entertaining Sir Harold’s wild story was captivating and humorous.

“Erma one night deigned to place the ultimate honor on me, but after we’d slept together, I wanted to wed Erma, but Erma would only marry a virgin.” That tidbit of the story was a tad more than I cared to hear, no matter how amusing Sir Harold’s story had been thus far.

“Erma’s right to feel that way.” I shrugged. “It’s how a married couple should be when they’re married.”

“You’re probably right,” He shrugged. “I’ll just tell the next hopeful a little purple lie.”

The next hopeful? He had to be delirious. Still though, his statement inspired another inquiry. “If you don’t mind me asking, how old are you?”

“Hmm, there’s a dilemma.” He murmured. “I’ve forgotten but Erma concludes, via a formula tabulating the number of eclipses seen in a lifetime, along various values of pi, a few absurd exponents, and a square root, that I’m either three and seven thirty-fourths, or one-hundred and forty-three, but I’m leaning towards the latter because my family traditionally has very good doctors.” He said this while still tying his beard in knots. I wondered if he knew he looked seventy at youngest; it was entirely possible he was a hundred and forty-three however, since after a certain age most people’s bodies stopped showing the signs of further aging. Considering Sir Harold’s state of mind, it was just as feasible that he wasn’t a day older than seventy.

“So you’re old then?”

“That’s a preposterous question!” He roared. “I’m just a bachelor for crying out loud! I haven’t even gone through my mid-life crisis!”

I apologized, stifling a laugh.

“Just see if you can find a way I might be able to cheer Jade up.” He mumbled.

That chance made itself known after another week. Jade brought Gavin’s laptop back, saying she’d used the currency card Sir Harold had given her to buy a laptop of her own with every frivolous accessory she could find. After she’d left Gavin noticed some of the conversations she’d had stored on his hard drive.

Jade had inadvertently saved several juicy conversations with Leon Gonzago. They weren’t juicy like a fresh orange but rather like a soap opera. Even though Gavin deleted the conversations without reading them, we could both see Jade had a boyfriend who was sorely missed.

I passed this information on to Sir Harold in such a way that I wasn’t guilty of gossiping. I also suggested Sir Harold permit Jade to visit the boy. Sir Harold was thrilled by the news and began planning something extravagant.

I found out later, Sir Harold had sent a letter on stiff decorative paper that invited Leon back to McLeod Manor to attend a gala event on the seventh of July. The letter told Leon he was to arrive promptly on the thirtieth of June, and that after the gala, he would be invited to remain at McLeod Manor as a Servant if he met the qualifications required. He was also told that if he so desired, he could begin tuition at McLeod Manor University.

Gavin’s hacking skills were how learned about the letter to Leon but his skills also showed me details on the gala.

Sir Harold was inviting nearly everyone at McLeod Manor. Also on the guest list was anyone between the ages of thirteen and thirty who could speak French, and could prove their intelligence, generosity, or efforts spent promoting French fluency. Gavin’s digging revealed Sir Harold’s ball prompted envious talk over everyone who was going.

The media treated the party as a topic comparative to the Oscars or Grammies. Rumor had it, those who attended were likely to leave a few thousand dollars wealthier.

As a result of all the hype, an enormous push for French fluency exploded across the globe. I didn’t really understand why Sir Harold required the French language so heavily, but Alexia speculated it probably had to do with Sir Harold’s heritage or his recent public announcement that the Catrions couldn’t understand French. Whichever it was, it was a brilliant play on Sir Harold’s part.

Gavin and I had two weeks to spare until the gala, which we both agreed might be fun; beneath my optimism, I felt the event could just as easily be a waste of time. With only two weeks, Gavin and I had scarce time to spend looking for formal attire, especially with nearly everyone living at McLeod Manor raiding nearby dress and tuxedo shops. Thankfully however, help came via the Servants.

It turned out, Alexia was a fair seamstress. After shooing Gavin out into the hallway, I stripped down enough so Alexia could work without error. She sat up a sewing machine and a large table in the Paraplegic Recovery Suite. When she wasn’t comparing her work to me, I never redressed, except for a bathrobe so she could work quicker.

I’d chosen the materials, and with some of the leftovers, Alexia made Gavin a matching vest and bowtie; he’d found another of the Servants who was a similar height who had a black set of tails Gavin could borrow.

On the thirtieth of the month when Leon Gonzago arrived without Jade’s prior knowledge, Jade cheered up significantly. It was almost like she forgot all about Krystal Nicholson; I was glad to see her moving on.

I didn’t know what Jade and Leon were doing about Sir Harold’s party. Pretty much all I knew was that they were going, but everything else eluded me.

When the seventh of July finally came, Gavin was again banned from the room he and I shared; Alexia and I were going to help each other prepare. This time, Gavin went to the room of the Servant lending him a tuxedo.

Alexia and I spent the day primping and pruning ourselves. Alexia astounded me when she managed to shape my hair different than my usual ponytail with the sides dangling. She made my hair, which was barely more than shoulder length, wavy and full of body. What surprised me more was how she kept it mostly down with my bangs retaining the long sharp point they normally had; if I liked any part of my normal appearance, it was the katana-shaped locks of hair in front of my face. Except for the tips, which were dyed to match my dress, Alexia expertly left my favorite part of my personal hairstyle alone, with the rest of my hair pinned back and combed beautifully.

I sat on a stool in the large bathroom looking in the mirror. The girl looking back wore an elegant black satin dress with streaks of silver dashing across it. Her neckline dipped low, but not so low cleavage shouted at those who came too close. No bra straps were seen near the girl’s collar bones, but the dress was engineered so that while hugging her now graceful curves, it could support them too. Other than the imperceptible tightness of the dress, how this form was maintained was a mystery.

At the bottom of the dress, knee-length ruffles skated around her ankles. The silver stripes were less subtle here, as shimmering thread spiraled in abundance. The few narrow angled streaks of black only highlighted the majestic path of the silver figure skater.

“Here,” Alexia pushed a tube of lipstick in my face. “It’s a cross between lipstick and lip gloss; it will match your dress, but will stand out more than lip gloss.”

I eyed Alexia suspiciously but accepted the tube. It was strange enough having an inch of dyed hair on either side of my face but applying an accessory as close to make-up as this was made me uneasy.

Gavin knocked at the door, causing me to jump and almost smear the lipstick; I couldn’t believe so much time had passed. Checking in the mirror to make sure I hadn’t smeared anything, I quickly answered the door, growing more nervous by the second.

Behind the door, I gasped in silent awe because there stood Gavin, more hansom than I’d ever seen him before. Likewise, his lips formed the word “Wow,” as he realized he should offer me his arm.

Grinning, I tied myself to him and off we went.