Mother Moksha

Posted on Sun 4th Oct, 2020 @ 8:02pm by Purulence Addams & Yuliette Marayan Dr.

2,096 words; about a 10 minute read

Mission: Resolution
Location: Brown Sector, Deck 2446
Timeline: MD-15, 0900 hours

Where there are questions, answers will be given. --Rumi

Once she came up with an idea, Purulence Addams did not wait around to overthink it. Sometimes, this resulted in the need for her to do a White Tornado cleaning event to clear her closet space of clothing, to make room for impulsive purchases. Other times, it forced her to move ahead with projects before she could panic about doing them. Once she committed herself, she had to finish them.

Picking out work space in Brown Sector was falling into the latter category, Purulence thought as she looked over station floor plans and made note of contact people. Being a portrait painter, she didn't need much studio space; a room the size of a small master bedroom would do. All she needed was room for an easel, her paints and brushes, and various drapes and props for her subjects to use. These included a sofa, a loveseat, and several different types of chairs and small tables. Lighting was also a major consideration. At last, Purulence settled on three possible locations and rode the tram down to Brown Sector to get a better look at them.

The first location, she never looked at. The moment she laid eyes on the landlord and imagined painting him she got a bad feeling and hastily made excuses to leave.

The second landlord she met, on another day, was a married couple. They were better, just seedy. The location needed too much repair work, however. Now it was another day. Purulence looked at the third name on her list.

Mother Moksha. Hm. Someone whose parents wanted her to escape the Wheel, I guess--unless it's not an Earth name, of course, and then it could mean anything.

Moksha's contact information listed her residence as being close to the area called Midnight, where the art show had taken place during the Peldor Joi festival. That suited Purulence just fine. Midnight was her favorite part of Brown Sector. She decided to dress in unrelieved black in honor of it. There was a particular style of dress that her mother, Gloriana, liked, and Purulence had never felt thin enough to wear it before. Now, though, after a few weeks of morning runs with Ignatius and some disciplined dieting ... Purulence let the heavy, black silk slide down her body and reveled in the feel of it moving against her skin.

Today, I feel like an ADDAMS! It was a joyous feeling.

People stared at her when she got on the tram--pure black skin, floor-length black dress, long, straight, black hair. Purulence beamed at them all. She was an Addams; people always stared at her family. An Addams was more, as Chlamydia was fond of saying. For the first time since she could remember, Purulence genuinely felt the 'moreness' in her soul.

"Are you going to a funeral, mija?" someone asked.

Purulence smiled at the short Hispanic lady standing beside her, who had asked the question. "No, I just felt like wearing black today. It goes with my complexion."

The Hispanic lady laughed. "If you go with your complexion, you will never have to wonder what to wear!" she agreed. "Have a lovely day, mija. And if you would ever like some fresh tamales, go see Jimena on Deck 1200. She's my twin sister. She makes the best."

"I'll do that. Does she make mole tamales?" Purulence asked.

The woman's eyes widened. "You know mole! Well! Not usually, but if you order a dozen, I will tell her to make some. Pollo or puerco?"

"Two dozen--12 chicken, 12 pork," Purulence replied. "And I would really love a side order of mole to go with them."

"That will cost extra, but--deal!" the woman said gleefully. She pulled out a PADD and began entering an email message. A few moments later, she looked back at Purulence. "Jimena says she can have those ready for you today, but the mole will be replicated. If you give her three days' notice, the mole will be homemade."

"I haven't had real mole in ages," Purulence said, practically drooling. "Two dozen for today. If I like how they taste, my family will be hosting a party soon, and I'll call her back for a larger order with the good stuff."

More excited typing. "You will love them," Jimena's sister promised. She extended a hand to Purulence. "I'm Juana Vargas. Go to Vargas Tamales y Mas on Deck 1200. I can send you a link to the app. You can arrange for catering through it, too."

"Purulence Addams--with two d's," Purulence said and shook Juana's hand. She pulled her mini-PADD from her purse and began placing the order.

Then she sent an email: Neone, can you eat chicken or pork tamales with mole sauce?

Neone didn't have instant messaging as far as Purulence knew, so she decided to buy the two dozen tamales for family use, and if Neone could eat either type, she would pick up more before the painting date.

Juana got off at Deck 1800, and Purulence rode the rest of the way down to Deck 2400 and then transferred to the turbolift that took her to the second deck of Brown Sector.

'Midnught' was delightful, as always. Purulence made her way to the address of Mother Moksha and rang the bell that hung on a looped cord beside her front door.

The door opened after a minute or two, and Purulence blinked. The woman who might be Moksha was as tall as the family butler back home and as slender as a typical Addams. Her skin was pale lavender and her hair deepest purple, floating about her head in a wild, eggplant-colored halo. Whether from dye or nature Purulence couldn't tell. She wondered worriedly if the woman's slenderness was by choice or because of hunger. "Hello. I'm Purulence Addams. I've come to--"

The woman's eyes widened and she yelped, practically jumping backward. "Evil!" she shrieked and hugged herself as if trying to ward off her visitor.

"I'm not evil; my skin is this color naturally," Purulence said, unable to keep an edge from coloring her voice. This sort of thing didn't happen often, but when it did it was no end of irritating. Her feeling of Addamsness evaporated. "Are you Mother Moksha?"

The woman jerked her head to the left. "Grandma, stay back! She's black as Night!"

A long-suffering sigh reached Purulence's ears. "Teshara, child, if you look out the observation ports, it's black out there all the time. This station is surrounded by Night, and oddly enough, none of us have been possessed by demons yet, after five years. Now stand aside, or go into the kitchen. If this lady has come to see me, it must be for a reason. Perhaps you would make us some mint tea?"

Teshara shot a sidelong glance at Purulence, who stayed carefully outside the threshold and beyond arm's reach. She glanced back at her grandmother. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. Now go, please. Kitchen. Tea."

"Yes, Ma'am," Teshara said, but Purulence could see she wasn't happy.

Teshara withdrew, and another lavendar-skinned woman, this one with white hair that hung down her chest in two braids, came to the doorway. "I am Mother Moksha." She looked Purulence up and down. "Well, I will say you do look like Night. I don't believe we've met."

Purulence breathed a sigh of relief. At least Moksha acted sane. "I'm Purulence Addams," she repeated. "You advertised for a room to rent?"

"Ah! Yes, I do have one. My youngest son stayed there until he and his wife had a baby, and then it was too small for them. You would like to see it?"

"If I may," Purulence said.

"Excellent. Come with me; it's just around the corner," Moksha said. She removed a key from a hook just inside the door and pulled the door of her quarters closed. "It will be just you living there?" she asked as they began walking.

"Actually, I'm looking for something to use as an art studio down here."

"An art studio." Moksha eyed her. "To be candid, I would really rather rent it to someone who needs living quarters. Living space is limited down here. We don't have the luxury of art studios."

Purulence considered telling the woman she could pay any price required but discarded that idea immediately. Money was clearly not Moksha's priority. She was dealing with harsh reality and necessity. An art studio wasn't a necessity, not when compared to living quarters.

"I respect that," Purulence said. "I would like to set up a studio down here because I get the impression that many of the residents in Brown Sector would feel uncomfortable coming up to Tivoli Gardens to model for me. I want to be able to hire people from here as models and paint them where they feel the most comfortable and where they won't get harassed by station security for looking like loiterers. People here are interesting to me. They have many stories to tell--but I need a room that is large enough to hold an easel, shelving, some supplies, and a few pieces of furniture, as well as lighting. If it weren't for the furniture, I could paint in a large closet."

"Hm. Well, here's the room." Moksha unlocked the door and opened it.

Purulence walked inside. "It would be a little cramped with the sofa and shelves, but I could make it work. What's your policy about renters putting hooks and things on the walls What about wallpaper?"

"Magnetic hooks work with no problem," Moksha said. "This room is in the station blueprint, so the walls are metal. You wouldn't be able to puncture them. Wallpaper can be done with two-sided adhesive tape."

"That's a relief. The acoustics need some dampening. What about ventilation? I use turpentine and linseed oil, along with my paints," Purulence said.

"Ventilation is off right now, because no one's using the space, Once I accept a renter, it will resume. You use actual paint?" Moksha asked in surprise, "not a computer?"

"Yes, actual paint," Purulence said. "A computer would give greater visual precision, but that isn't what I want. I prefer to convey the sense of a person. I'll show you what I mean." She dug into her purse and pulled out a mini-PADD. Purulence set it to sketchpad mode and swiftly drew an image with a few strokes of her stylus. She held it so that Moksha could see it. "I considered renting studio space from this person. Don't do business with him."

Moksha looked at the portrait, and her eyes widened. She looked at Purulence, then at the portrait again. "I know him--and you're right. I would never want a daughter of mine to rent space from him, either." She thought a moment. "You would do this kind of art? Honest art?"

"Sometimes it's painfully honest art," Purulence said in a wry tone. "But yes."

Moksha nodded to herself. "Very well, then. I agree for a month. After a month, we will talk again. If during that time no one comes to me needing living space, you're welcome to stay for another month. Is that acceptable?"

Purulence beamed at her. "Yes, Ma'am. And thank you!"

----

Later, that evening, as Lanis wrapped up the Cardasda lesson with Yuliette, she would look over the scrawlings on the note paper, silently mouthing the pronunciations she had just learned. She would then relocate to one of the computer terminals and log into the library message box associated with her 'Neone' account.

There she would discover the odd little message from Purulence about tamales. She would hit Reply.

"I'm not quite sure. I think I enjoyed tamales at a festival once. They must have been pork. Either would be fine, I'm sure. With thanks." She wouldn't actually type her name. She would just leave it off. Purulence's message had been informal, after all.

As she logged out of her library account, Yuliette would be sure of one thing. On the heels of that big festival yesterday, and with her weekly food allowances, it would seem no one was going to let her go hungry in Brown Sector.

As Yuliette sat there, another message appeared in her 'Unread' list, from Purulence.

I have Room 218-C in Midnight for at least a month. Can you meet me there for hand studies in three days?

 

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