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Authors: Mary Doria Russell
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lady consulted on colors and application, and when they were finished, Mildred produced a bell-shaped cloche hat made from the same green wool as my beautiful new coat. She settled it onto my head and tugged it down until it dipped rakishly over my right eye. “In case you get tired,” she said, winking. “What do you think?”
I walked to the nearest full-length mirror and saw someone chic and modern, youthful if not young. In a daze, I stood there reassessing everything I had ever thought about myself. “Mildred,” I whispered finally, “you are a miracle worker.”
“Don’t you dare cry!” she warned. “You’ll ruin your makeup.”
We embraced then as though we were old friends, and I waved to half a dozen other girls beaming happily at the magic they had accomplished. I didn’t even ask how much the bill had totaled. It doesn’t matter, I told myself. I am not a penny-pinching schoolteacher anymore. I am a lady of means.
Not if you keep up this kind of spending,
Mumma warned.
Paying no attention, I sailed out of the store followed by three boys laden with the boxes and bags they would carry to my car. The doorman, who barely noticed when I entered Halle’s five hours earlier, looked at me now with frank and cheeky admiration as I departed.
I tipped the boys a dime apiece when the car was loaded, and gave a nickel to the valet who held my car door open. Rosie hopped in, and for a time I sat still, gazing at the green-gloved hands resting on the steering wheel. I felt as transformed as the society I lived in.
The spell was not broken, but only slightly cracked when a trickle of melted snow slipped down a newly bared neck that had never before gone out in such weather without a sensible crocheted scarf. Even inside the car and out of the winter wind, my silk-stockinged legs felt exposed and cold beneath the knee-length skirt.
You’ll catch pneumonia,
Mumma said.
Maybe so,
I could hear Mildred say,
but she’ll die happy.
What about Egypt?
you ask.
What has any of this to do with Egypt?
Well, I’m getting to that, but you have to know all about Mildred to understand why I went to the séance. You see, Mildred and Mumma began to argue on my way home, and they never seemed to stop. Every time my mother rebuked me for that spending spree or anything else, for that matter, Mildred’s voice would come to my defense.
What would she be like if you’d let her make the most of herself instead of the least?
Mildred demanded, bold as brass.
You always acted like her life was over before it got started.
But a silk charmeuse dress! A waste of money if ever there was one. It’ll sit in the closet forever.
Not necessarily…Why, it’s perfect for a cruise! It’s the very sort of dress ladies wear when they eat at the captain’s table on a cruise.
And what would you know about such things?
More than you would! I have lots of customers who go on cruises. Anyway, Agnes should get out more, see more things,
said Mildred.
Say! A change of scenery would be just the thing! She might meet someone on a cruise.
Meet someone? Why, the very idea!
And why shouldn’t she?
She’s nearly forty!
She doesn’t look it, not when she’s all dolled up.
It went on like that for a week. Nothing seemed to quiet the dispute I heard inside me. And it was in that state of mental instability that I found the courage to do something else completely out of character. I visited a medium.
I know, I know. You’re absolutely right. The séances popular in the twenties were shameful, silly affairs, designed to fool the gullible and take advantage of grieving families. I grant you that, but then again, here I am, telling you this story! So you just never know, now, do you? And remember, please, all the other invisible forces that had so recently become a part of our lives in those days. Madame Curie’s radiation, and Signore Marconi’s radio, and Dr. Freud’s unconscious. Even before I died, it seemed
I walked to the nearest full-length mirror and saw someone chic and modern, youthful if not young. In a daze, I stood there reassessing everything I had ever thought about myself. “Mildred,” I whispered finally, “you are a miracle worker.”
“Don’t you dare cry!” she warned. “You’ll ruin your makeup.”
We embraced then as though we were old friends, and I waved to half a dozen other girls beaming happily at the magic they had accomplished. I didn’t even ask how much the bill had totaled. It doesn’t matter, I told myself. I am not a penny-pinching schoolteacher anymore. I am a lady of means.
Not if you keep up this kind of spending,
Mumma warned.
Paying no attention, I sailed out of the store followed by three boys laden with the boxes and bags they would carry to my car. The doorman, who barely noticed when I entered Halle’s five hours earlier, looked at me now with frank and cheeky admiration as I departed.
I tipped the boys a dime apiece when the car was loaded, and gave a nickel to the valet who held my car door open. Rosie hopped in, and for a time I sat still, gazing at the green-gloved hands resting on the steering wheel. I felt as transformed as the society I lived in.
The spell was not broken, but only slightly cracked when a trickle of melted snow slipped down a newly bared neck that had never before gone out in such weather without a sensible crocheted scarf. Even inside the car and out of the winter wind, my silk-stockinged legs felt exposed and cold beneath the knee-length skirt.
You’ll catch pneumonia,
Mumma said.
Maybe so,
I could hear Mildred say,
but she’ll die happy.
What about Egypt?
you ask.
What has any of this to do with Egypt?
Well, I’m getting to that, but you have to know all about Mildred to understand why I went to the séance. You see, Mildred and Mumma began to argue on my way home, and they never seemed to stop. Every time my mother rebuked me for that spending spree or anything else, for that matter, Mildred’s voice would come to my defense.
What would she be like if you’d let her make the most of herself instead of the least?
Mildred demanded, bold as brass.
You always acted like her life was over before it got started.
But a silk charmeuse dress! A waste of money if ever there was one. It’ll sit in the closet forever.
Not necessarily…Why, it’s perfect for a cruise! It’s the very sort of dress ladies wear when they eat at the captain’s table on a cruise.
And what would you know about such things?
More than you would! I have lots of customers who go on cruises. Anyway, Agnes should get out more, see more things,
said Mildred.
Say! A change of scenery would be just the thing! She might meet someone on a cruise.
Meet someone? Why, the very idea!
And why shouldn’t she?
She’s nearly forty!
She doesn’t look it, not when she’s all dolled up.
It went on like that for a week. Nothing seemed to quiet the dispute I heard inside me. And it was in that state of mental instability that I found the courage to do something else completely out of character. I visited a medium.
I know, I know. You’re absolutely right. The séances popular in the twenties were shameful, silly affairs, designed to fool the gullible and take advantage of grieving families. I grant you that, but then again, here I am, telling you this story! So you just never know, now, do you? And remember, please, all the other invisible forces that had so recently become a part of our lives in those days. Madame Curie’s radiation, and Signore Marconi’s radio, and Dr. Freud’s unconscious. Even before I died, it seemed
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