Ding dong!
“Eeeek!” Wren let out a pig squeal, tip-toeing her socked feet into the foyer. She opened the door and immediately embraced her cousin. Nina helplessly stood there, champagne in one hand, a pothos in the other.
“Oooooo what goodies did you bring me?” Wren said, backing up, clasping her hands.
She marveled at the low hanging tendrils of the plant, working her way up to their holder.
“Hey, girl,” Nina excitedly shrieked, dancing in place.
Nina was Wren’s first cousin. Her father’s sister’s daughter. They were always close growing up. Thick as thieves. And they remained close well into adulthood. Nina was a year older than Wren, short dark hair, and very athletically gifted. She had attended Boston University for both her undergraduate and graduate studies, a now practicing physical therapist.
“Ah!” Wren exclaimed. “I can’t believe we are essentially neighbors!”
“Well,” Nina began, “the plant is a little propagation from my own. My pothos were getting too leggy. And this…” she said, holding up the bottle of Brute, “Well, this is…this is always a good time, my love,” Nina said, smiling and handing over the bottle.
Wren was so happy that she got to have the girly lesbian as a cousin. She felt like she could relate, emotionally and mentally that is. A dangerous mind, telling mouth and snappy figure, Nina was just as much of a firecracker as Wren. She would be the first to jump at the opportunity for 4-wheeling or dune-buggy riding or playing in the dirt at all. But after she got all dolled up… “now,” she would always say, holding herself in a cautionary stance, as if she was made of porcelain.
“Don’t like touch my hair or skin or eyebrows or anything,” and with a simultaneous grin and flip of her hair, she’d present herself. And she truly would dazzle at any soiree. Her rosy hair, their curls cascading down her shoulders. Her hazel-green eyes smoldering, a deep, rich plum color was her signature tracing her eyelids. Her subtle freckles were the perfect cross between copper and brown, and her lightly rouged cheeks against her ivory skin could melt you. She would slowly turn to say hello to everyone, the coppery flecks of her hair seeming to catch the light just perfectly at every angle.
Nina wasn’t just pretty. She was absolutely stunning.
And always so articulate.
“Oh my god, great. I have to fucking pee,” was the famous line. And like that, she would scamper away, everyone still mesmerized.
Yeah, dress her up, can’t take her out.
And Wren was the same way. They were more like sisters instead of cousins.
“Well, come on in!” Wren said excitedly, taking the pothos and carefully nesting it on their entry table. They slipped off their shoes and let their socked feet slide along the hard wood floors, slipping into the living room. A seemingly endless bounty of boxes met their eyes.
“Wow, so we got some unpacking to do,” Nina chuckled.
“I’m gonna need this,” and she started to unwrap the bottle of bubbly.
“I’m so happy you’re here,” yelled out Wren, who was now upside down, waist deep in a cardboard box vaguely labeled ‘more shit 1’.
Nina, eyes wide, tilted her head at an almost perfect 90 degrees.
“Ummm I thought you already had most of your big things set up,” gesturing around with her arms. “I didn’t know you had more furniture.”
Slipping herself out of the box, “oh no. gosh no. yeah, no more furniture.” Wren dipped her head down, holding her fist to her mouth for a burp.
“Yeah, ‘scuse me. No um these are just trinkets.”
Nina mouthed the word trinkets with a surprised expression. Who knew someone could have so many?
And Wren dove back in the box. She brings up a painting of an elephant. Wren, holding the frame on both ends, turns the picture to a vertical plane to show Nina.
“Wow,” Nina breathed.
It was absolutely exquisite. Quite abstract. A lot of sharp lines and bold colors, it wasn’t for the faint of heart.
The background was full of blurred colors. It was mostly cool tones. An abstract interpretation of a safari jungle. Blues, indigos, and violets cascaded around the bottom portion, soaking the elephant’s feet. Different variations of yellows and greens lined the upper half of the canvas, with browns and soft oranges denoting the tree line. The elephant though, now she was a brawny work of art. Fuschia and deep plums wrapped around her body. Gentle strokes of the paint brush gave her movement, playfulness, and an innate grace. Her front left leg was hiked in the air, as if to say, “come play with me and be free.” But it was fun. It was funky. It was different. It was Wren.
“Right??? I know, dude!” Wren exclaimed, bouncing on her toes.
“I got it right before we left New York. You don’t wanna know how much I paid for it…so I won’t tell. But umm contrary to the popular belief of this particular dollar amount, I practically stole it.”
“What the fuck. Dude. How much?” Nina queried, entertained at Wren’s antics.
“Um maybe it was like $700? But who’s really to say,” Wren said, holding up her hands as if to say ‘oopsies.’
Nina’s mouth just hung open.
“OK well $700 for this…wow OK,” Nina looked like she was doing long division in her head. She then looked up at Wren, her cousin admiring the painting. Wren had always loved elephants. Their grace and beauty but fierce protectiveness for their kin. It was Wren through and through. She could see how much this meant to Wren, to add color and vibrancy. To adorn their new home in protective armor. Guarded by hot pink elephants giving bohemian vibes.
“You know Wren, whatever, it’s fabulous, it’s you. I love it and you work hard. You deserve it.” With a quick nod of her head.
“Eeeeeee!” Wren squealed and hugged her cousin.
“Oh gosh, I love you. Ok, so where should I put it then?”
“Mmmm,” Nina mused. They walked over into the kitchen. Nina considered it for a statement piece above their bar. She held up her arms, twisting her head around to check with Wren.
“No, that would be good, but I think I’m wanting to put Ophie there.”
Nina dropped her arms, puzzled.
“Oh yeah,” Wren excitedly dove into another box, shredding the cardboard sides. This box was similarly labeled to the first, ‘more shit 2’.
“More shit, edition two,” Nina overtly pronounced.
She continued.
“So why not just label them 1, 2, 3…?”
“Because that’s no fun.” Wren said peering up from the torn box. She dove back in and pulled out another painting. Its frame was large, ornate, over the top. Definitely Wren.
And there was Ophelia, in all her glory. She was positioned in a sit, her everted paws ever so precious pointing in opposite directions from each other. The backdrop a bold harmony of a variety of colors. Shades of red, pink, orange, and yellow. Sunset shades. The colors engulfed each other, not really having one end before another began.
It was spectacular. Wren stood there, proudly holding the assembly.
“Well?” she began. “You wanna know where I got it?”
Nina dipped her hip, shifting her weight, and folded her arms across her chest.
“You fucking made that.” She said, a wide grin spreading across her face.
“Hell, yeah I did!” Wren giggled and jumped, a sun-drenched Ophelia bouncing in unison.
“Damn dude,” Nina started, slowly shaking her head in disbelief.
And that again, was Wren.
Imaginative, spunky, spontaneous – always flirting with life. One minute she was torso deep in an engine. The next, sipping her Riesling, perched atop her art stool, making soft strokes on her canvas. Much of her inspiration was pulled from Monet. She loved nature scenes and really took to personifying the surrounding flora and fauna, painting everything with energy, movement, and passion. And who better than Wren to tell their stories? Show their emotion? Her pieces bore a sense of courage, one that made your stomach plunge. It was difficult to explain, but Nina got it. Staring off into one of Wren’s paintings was like that first spark you get when you reach the top of a roller coaster. Just as you begin to fall.
And just as Wren, many of her pieces evoked a sense of femininity, but with a twist. Not a quiet beauty. Oh no. Loud. Singing and dancing in audacious jewel tones. Bold. Classic yet modern. Noble yet fearless. That was Wren.
Nina’s eyes narrowed at the scroll underneath Ophelia’s paws. At first glance, it appeared to be grass. It was writing, Wren’s cursive. She smiled.
“Heaven help a fool that falls in love.” Nina said softly. Her eyes started to well up. She looked at Wren, who was now squeezing her lips together, suppressing tears.
“Yeah, I made it for Henry. Paper. Our first anniversary.”
“It’s fantastic. The color, Ophelia, the lyric…wow. You amaze me.”
“Thank you,” Wren looked down, feeling humbled. Nina’s kind words felt like a warm hug.
“Okay, yes so absolutely,” Nina continued. “Ophelia definitely deserves a front row spot. This is the focal point, the kitchen – heart of the home!”
“Yeah, maybe” Wren cocked her head and smiled.
“It’s Henry’s favorite spot. Well, aside from the bedroom.”
“Right??” Nina rhetorically stated as she wandered down the hall into the living room, displeased with the kitchen lighting.
“Actually, what about here?” she pointed toward the wall just above the couch.
Surely the stately art piece, saturated in turquoises, plums, and mahogany reds would look divine above their dark green sofa.
“Absolutely.” Wren felt her heart melt. She could think of no better spot for Ophelia to guard over the family than above the sofa she had worn an impression in.
“And then maybe the elephant could go above the bar in the kitchen? The low light would make it—” She turned and something caught Nina’s eyes out of the living room window.
“Who’s that?” Nina asked flipping the blinds wider with her fingers.
“Who?” Wren tiptoed over her shoulder, peaking through the crack.
Ugh.
“Oh, that’s just Jo,” Wren mumbled and started to walk away again.
“Jo? You know people already?”
Wren threw her head back and let out a groan.
Jo, again in the tight denim cutoffs, was sporting a mustard yellow sports bra, adidas shoes, and some dark lip liner.
“She looks confused,” Nina said.
Wren walked back over to the window and stood next to Nina. She could make out the smudged edges of the plum encircling outside of her natural lip line.
Again, smacking that fucking gum.
“I feel like it’s too hot outside for purple lipstick, no?” Nina commented, rolling up the blinds.
“Too hot? Nina what the hell does that even mean?”
“Like that’s a total winter look. It’s only September.”
Wren stood there and pulled a swig off the straw of her Stanley tumbler.
She swallowed three times, sighed, and remarked with a swift, “you’re gay.”
Nina rolled her eyes, “but like, that’s still weird. Is she single?”
“Oh, don’t tell me you’re trying…” Wren began, Nina holding up her hand to cut her off.
“No, don’t be ridiculous. And Jesus Christ dude I’m kind of offended. I was just wondering because she reminds me of the black widow witch in that legend. Or at least that purple lip stain got me shook. Ummm…”
She snapped her fingers several times trying to jog her memory.
“Hershire!” Nina exclaimed.
“Errr-shy-errr?” Wren questioned, absentmindedly refolding the dish towels laying on the coffee table.
“Yeah dude there’s this weird legend about this cult of witches and warlocks and other creepy shit.”
“And you believe in this…”
“I didn’t. Not until two years ago when I saw two geese almost tear each other apart. It ended up being on our local news! You know, we don’t get a whole lot around here. Just the other day, Mary-Anne Moebbler made the six o’clock bulletin when she farted in her hand at the Piggly Wiggly and made the cashier, Susan Robinson, smell it!”
Eyes wide with horror and shock, “Where the fuck did we move to…” Wren began, adding to the pile of dish towels.
“No, you’re not getting my point, just listen!” begged Nina.
“Ok,” said Wren plopping down on a chair, closing her eyes. “You win, go.”
“Ok,” Nina nestled on her knees in the adjacent sofa, digging her toes into the back of the cushion.
“So, I said that the two geese were going at each other, right?”
“And you named them Mary-Anne and Susan,” Wren said, her hand held up to her mouth, as if she was in deep thought. There was no response. She looked over at Nina and couldn’t help but crack a smile.
Nina’s eyes narrowed and pointed her finger at Wren.
“Ok, well when you see weird shit happen and YOU go look over at two dead geese and YOU see purple lipstick marking their feathers and YOU have a chapped, old woman coming up to you, talking in weird rhymes about cults and witchcraft and shit, don’t say I never warned you!”
And with that, she marched off to the kitchen.
“Why didn’t you visit the dearly departed geese?” Wren laughed, her head thrown back, trying to peer upside down at Nina.
No response.
Wren sat up, “You’re so freakin dramatic.”
“Yeah, well you’re gonna really think so in a minute,” Nina said sauntering back over, carrying two glasses and a new bottle of rosé.
She sat down and poured each of them a tall glass.
“I am just trying to explain to you that this is a quiet town, it’s not like the city. So, two years ago, when two geese attacked one another out of nowhere, it was intensely investigated.
I made the initial report, and when I stood over there waiting for animal control, I saw what looked like purple lipstick on their necks. And then there were the wounds and the blood trail…” Nina looked off and swallowed, obviously not dealing with the memory too well.
“And then, this lady, I don’t know, probably like 109 years old, waddled up to me and said it was the witch. The witch of Hershire. She started talking about animal sacrifice and birds and just all this weird stuff.”
Wren sat there unmoved by the story, her brow furrowed and took a sip off her glass.
Nina continued. “So…I Googled it.”
“Ah,” Wren said, feigning interest.
“Yeah, and I found this article written in 2005 saying that there were numerous reports of animal slayings during that time. Like a spike in weird activity in general of the surrounding area. And then it all stopped. Well, it might be starting again, and it might be her,” she said, intentionally looking down out at the dog park at Jo, who was tracing around a circle she made in the dirt.
Alarmed, Nina quickly sat up.
“What is she doing? Oh my god, is that a Summoning Circle?” Nina threw her hands up to her face in horror.
“Oh, Nina what the fuck,” said Wren, getting up to look over.
“Goddamnit Nina she’s just rubbing her toes in the dirt!”
“Look,” Wren said, taking Nina by the shoulders. I believe you about the geese, and Mary Anne and her farts…” she continued, “but I don’t believe in witches, summoning circles, and if I hear about animal sacrifice shit one more time, I might cry or axe murder Jo out there just to be safe.”
She gently squeezed Nina’s shoulders, and then folded her into an embrace.
“I appreciate the warning, but I think Jo is…kind of just weird. Off. Special. Particular… however you want to phrase it.”
“Yeah, you say that now…” Nina trailed.
Wren just looked at her and laughed. They both just started giggling and couldn’t stop. Could have been the wine, could have been being so damn tired and sleep deprived. But whatever. It felt good to laugh, to let go, be free. Wren had such difficulty doing that. Always so wound up. She felt like a rubber band ball. When the anxiety would peak, she’d always reach her hand to her chest, just to make sure all the bones were tucked safely under her skin.
She sat there on her velvet sofa, her eyes sparkling, appearing genuinely happy. She was exquisite.
“I love you so much,” Nina added, smiling over at Wren.
“Cheers, my love,” and motioned for a toast, gently clinking her crystal rim.
Wren smiled warmly and gently nodded her head and took another sip. She was about through with her 3rd glass of wine and was soon to start spinning.
She lazily propped her foot up on the glass-top coffee table, spilling the bottle of bubbly all over their new rug.
Uh oh.
“Goddamnit!” Wren shouted.
“Ugh what in the fuuuuuuuck,” she groaned, starting to melt.
“Dude, you’re being a bit dramatic. I’ll get some paper towels.” Nina offered and meandered into the kitchen.
Wren started to sink along the back of the couch, down the front and flopped on her butt onto the floor, now actually sitting on the saturated rug.
“Then the enzyme cleaner, then the baking soda, then letting it dry, then using the vacuum, then having to steam clean…” she would have continued, but she was listing her supposed tasks with her fingers, and just hitting her right pinky, she gave up.
“Ugh,” she let out.
“This is all Jo’s fault.”
