Front Desk Woman; Volume 11

“Hi,” said the villainous figure slinking toward Pansy.

“Hi,” Pansy said in return, taking in the smell of her. She reeked of burnt marsh mellow edges, just kissed by a flame. Her smell felt familiar, like a lost old sweater found at the back of a closet. “Name?”

The woman smiled with one cheek, isolating it into something less comical and more sly. “Not yet,” she replied, circling Pansy like a slow pendulum. “That’s up to you.”

“What does that mean?” blurted Helen.

The woman didn’t as much as acknowledge Helen’s existence. She, instead, kept sight on Pansy, and Pansy alone. It was as if she were the only person standing there in the chaotic storm. Then, without prompt, the woman knelt before Pansy and kissed her shoe, leaving bright red lipstick on the scuffed tip. “What is my name?”

“Nell,” Pansy said without trying to.

“Ahh, yes,” the woman said in response. “That’s it. Nell.”

Then Nell rose again with a snap and slinked away from Pansy, back across the street, past gawking onlookers and into the swirling cloud. Again, she gave a sneaky half-grin and clapped her slender hands once. As soon as she did, the clouds and weather cleared and the day returned to what it had been before – regular.

Pansy exhaled, realizing she’d been holding her breath for too long.

“What the hell was that?” Asked Gertha.

“That,” Nana replied, appearing out of nowhere. “…Was a beast with no name.”

“Actually, Nana,” Pansy said. “I gave her a name. Nell is her name.”

Nana placed a concerned hand over her gaping lips. “You didn’t.”

Gertha, Pansy and Helen turned all nervous attention toward Nana who looked like she’d just been punched in the translucent gut.

“Where did you get the name?” Nana urgently asked Pansy. When Pansy paused to recall where the name Nell had come from, Nana lost patience. “Where Pansy? Think!”

“I…I…” Pansy stuttered, feeling an uneasy pressure she’d only ever felt in the presence of her husband. “I can’t…Nell. I don’t…Wait…”

“Wait, what?” Nana interrupted. “Spit it out.”

“Deep back,” Pansy began. “To a small place where I was so small.” Pansy closed her eyes to see herself clearly. “I was on a playground. Alone. Picked last or never picked. Left out or never chosen. Looked over. Waiting my turn and it never came. Quiet. Hurting. Hopeless. Helpless, so small. A girl with nothing to offer was what I was back then on that playground.” Pansy felt cool tears creepy her face as she spoke without filtering the words through mind first. “A girl unseen.

“Nell,” Pansy said with some affection in her voice. “She came to me then, too. Only she was small back then. The same, but smaller. Slinky, confident, loud, chosen, seen, not waiting her turn. Smelling campy, like marsh mellows perfectly burnt around the sticky edges. My favorite smell, even now. She came to hold me up. To lift me from the dirt and mud and muck. She,” Pansy paused before finally opening her eyes again. “Saved me.”

“Dear God,” said Nana. “You gave the beast her name.”

“What does it do?” Asked Gertha.

Nana took her time, first meeting eyes with Gertha, then Helen, and finally resting her intense gaze onto her granddaughter, Pansy. “Giving the beast her name starts in motion something that should never be started.”

“What?” Gertha and Helen asked in unison.

But Pansy herself instinctively knew the answer. “The End.”

“Well shit,” said Helen. “I was really getting a kick out of putting bad husbands in their places too.”