Advice to the Lovelorn

Posted on Sun 1st Sep, 2019 @ 9:39pm by Purulence Addams

1,986 words; about a 10 minute read

Mission: A Diplomatic Affair
Location: Chlamydia Addams' home, Deck 1554
Timeline: MD-4, 1430 hours

I have to get away!

It was the only thing Purulence Adams could think as she raced out of the small park near the edge of the Queen Anne Villas subdivision. Behind her, she could hear Ignatius Collins calling her name, asking her to wait. It didn't change her mind. He was the second-to-last person she wanted to see in the entire universe at this moment.

The wrought-iron gate of Chlamydia's home swung open as she ran toward it and slammed shut as quickly after she entered the grounds. Safer, at last, and panting, Purulence's steps slowed as she arrived at the small flight of stairs. She climbed them, entered through the front door, and pressed her back against the door as it closed.

Never. Never again. I don't know why I fought so hard to lose all the weight. I don't WANT to look attractive. I don't want any man to pay any attention to me again, whatsoever!

She could feel her thoughts spiraling toward hysteria and forced herself to take a deep breath, to hold it before exhaling, to calm down, just as Dr. Kersey had taught her.

At last she climbed up the stairs, her footsteps plodding, and went into her room. With a sigh, Purulence shut her door and glanced down at her SketchPADD. A groan escaped her throat as she looked at the picture she had drawn: Ignatius Collins lying on his back on the grass in the middle of the park, his eyes closed. He looked so completely peaceful that she smiled despite herself.

The problem was, this was the third sketch she had drawn of him lying in the park in three consecutive days. Purulence swiped the screen to look at the other two images. One was a study of his face and hair, the other another full-body image, sleeping the sleep of the exhausted.

Damn it.

Purulence tossed the SketchPADD onto her desk and then sank onto her bed, letting the tears flow.

Ischemia had glanced out the window in time to see her sister flying up the street and through the gate. At first, she smiled, thinking that the weight loss had certainly done a lot for Purulence's health. Then she realized there was something wrong as the girl didn't even slow down as the gate opened. She listened carefully, and heard the front door close. Expecting to hear steps running up the stairway, she went toward her closed door and leaned her ear against the small gap to listen.

It took longer than she expected, and the steps coming up were not hurried, but heavy and plodding, indicating more of despair than fear or excitement. She hesitated, listening to those steps crossing the hall, entering the next bedroom, then quietly shutting the door. Still, she waited. She loved her sister, but Purulence had a stormy personality, and sometimes Ischemia didn't know what to do for her, even with all her diplomatic training. Family, after all, was different than diplomacy.

Then she heard the crying, not loud, but sounding ... heart broken. That she couldn't leave alone. Quietly, she opened her own door and padded barefoot across to Purulence's room. Even with her hand lifted to knock, she hesitated a moment more. What if she said something that made things worse? Finally, she tapped on the door.

"Purulence?" she called softly. "I'm here."

In her room, Purulence buried her face in her hands for a moment. Ischemia. Ischemia never had man problems--which, as far as Purulence could tell, came from her not caring one way or the other if men were interested in her. If Purulence were honest with herself, that was probably the right way to go about it. Ischemia always looked perfect--perfect attire, perfect make-up, perfect wit and a wonderful, razor-sharp intelligence. And if she planned something? Why, it happened the way she planned, on schedule and under budget.

And since I'm a complete mess at the moment, maybe I need the advice of someone who isn't a complete mess, Purulence decided. She let out a long breath and wiped at her eyes with her sleeve. "Come on in, Schemy."

Her sister opened the door cautiously, as if preparing for emotional humidity to encompass her. She stepped fully into the room, closed the door behind her and leaned back with her hands wrapped around the old-fashioned black iron door knob, feeling the curving designs under her fingers. For a moment she looked at her sister. She was so beautiful. Even when she'd been pleasingly plump, she'd been lovely, but now her skin had a beautiful dark glow and her hair was spread around in a shiny mass. Ischemia realized she was staring.

"I forget sometimes how truly lovely you are," she said. Getting a grip on her own emotions, ... yes, I know the cloud of emotionalism would get me! she thought ... "You look anything but happy, though."

Leaving the door, she walked over and perched her lanky on the edge of her sister's bed, almost poised to take flight back to the safety of the hallway. "What's happened? No one accosted you, did they?" The light of battle lit her dark eyes.

Purulence blinked, both at the compliment and at the comment. The compliment she had no idea how to respond to. The comment, though... "No one accosted me. Ignatius and I were talking in the park, and it was just nerves--nerves and this weird way we feel about each other. I'm--afraid of it. I'm afraid of getting into another relationship."

She glanced up at Ischemia. "Ignatius and I feel the same way--we don't like being this attracted to each other when we've barely met. It seems fake, even though the feelings are powerful. There is no logical reason why I want to comb my fingers through his hair and kiss him like there's no tomorrow. There's no logical reason why I feel the urge to draw him every time I see him. I mean, good God, I was never like this with Henry. I almost wish I had been; I might have clued myself in about him."

"Ah. So it is une affaire de coeur, then," she nodded, her eyes turning thoughtful. "Ignatius who was with our parents and played pirate so well?"

At her sister's tiny nod of agreement, Ischemia sighed. "Pru," she used the annoying pet name that didn't actually connect to the younger woman's true name, "there is a spot in between ignoring men and falling madly in love, you know. We don't have to be all in or all out. I suppose that's the artist in you, though. You've always either jumped into things - any things - with both feet or not at all."

She smiled wistfully at memories of their maturing years, when her sister had been the opposite on the balance beam of her life, with Chlamydia standing on the fulcrum. This was probably not a problem for Chlamydia, but she might consult her, or at least inform her, later.

"You've established that you don't know why you have these feelings. I believe a direct quote would be 'There's no logical reason why, etc. etc.' That's the crux of the problem, darling," she reached out and ran her hand down Purulence's cheek. "It's an emotion. There is no logic to it. Look, I'm the last person to give advice on romance, but I'll give you some anyway, and free advice is worth just what it costs, as Cousin Malice always says.

"Go with it. See what happens. You don't have to jump into a fully-formed relationship, but get to know him. Perhaps your senses are picking up on something good. You said this isn't how you felt about Henry, and to that, I say 'thank the ancestors'. If it doesn't start like Henry, it isn't likely to end like Henry." Privately, she thought Purulence had used the Henry episode as an excuse for far too long ... a decade was enough time for even her artistic, temperamental sister to move on.

Ischemia dropped her hand to cover her sister's on the wildly colorful mod quilt Purulence had made herself while she was in her textile phase. "Maybe you'll only end by being friends, but it could be a wonderful wild ride between now and then. I advise you not to let this chance evaporate. He isn't likely to be here much longer, with all the responsibilities he has. Don't waste what the ancestors have given you."

"Emotions are nothing but logic," Purulence said. "Sometimes, the logic may not be apparent, but there is always a reason behind emotions. That's what's bothering Ignatius and me about these feelings; we can't figure out why we're having them. They make no sense. We've never met. Why should I want to make sweet love to a man I've barely met and have little in common with?" She sighed.

Ischemia completely disagreed with the premise that emotions were nothing but logic. She knew logic. It had nothing to do with emotions. She wouldn't argue the point with her sister. They were, after all, both Addams daughters. They each knew what they knew, and both could exist in the same universe.

"Anyway, I ran from him when he said he was interested in me, despite the weirdness of what we're feeling for each other. It scared me too deeply. All I could think of was Henry and how he seemed to change overnight from a wonderfully fun guy into a possessive, soul-sucking emotional vampire. I refuse to do that to myself again. All I could think was that I'd rather die than be trapped like that once more, so I took off running."

Purulence looked back at Ischemia. "And you know the crazy thing? I do want to go for it, just like you said. But a real loving relationship is built on trust, and I don't trust anybody like that anymore."

"You've been punishing yourself and everyone who wants to get close to you for a decade. If you do what you've always done, you'll get what you've always gotten. That could mean what you think - that because Henry was a rat, every man you fall for will be a rat. Or it could mean exactly the opposite," Ischemia pointed out. "You say both of you have the same feelings, ... but you're the one who's running away."

"Trust isn't fairy dust. It doesn't come in a particular time frame. It comes as you get to know someone, it's learned behavior. You learned mis-trust from Henry. Maybe you can learn trust from Ignatius." She stood up and looked at her sister for a moment, deciding whether to add anything else. Finally, she gave one nod of her head and one last thought.

"Purulence, you are a beautiful woman. You're kind and talented and generous, and have so much to offer to the world, and the single right person who will be for you what our father is for our mother ... and also the other way around. You think there's no reason for these emotions? Maybe there is. Because you don't know the origins of your feelings doesn't mean there isn't one."

"In other words, I need to woman up," Purulence said, her mouth feeling dry. She cast a sidelong glance at the latest sketch showing on her PADD and swallowed hard. "I'm afraid to trust my own art, you know? It doesn't lie--which is probably why I never wanted to draw Henry. I didn't want to see what it would have shown me. With Ignatius I want to see, and I do see, but I'm afraid to believe." A fine tremor ran through her. "I--I guess I'd better go back to the park and see if he's still there."

 

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