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Invisibilia Mulier Aequoreus

title translation: the invisible woman of the sea

“And how much would that be, Mrs…” the shopkeeper trailed off, unsure how to address the woman.

She smiled and replied, “Miss, please. Heaven knows I’m not quite old enough to get married.”

This was clearly a laughable joke between the woman and the shopkeeper; far from being too young to be married, the woman had visible grey hairs and was of a quite stocky build, despite her age. If the shopkeeper had to guess, she would be in her late fifties or early sixties.

“Is there anything else you would like to add, Miss?”

The woman looked around, with her eyes resting on a carton of milk on one of the shelves. After a brief pause, she said, “I’ll have that one, please.”

“I’m surprised to see you have milk. After all, it’s not in season yet, isn’t it?” she continued.

The shopkeeper blushed. “No ma’am, but I happen to know a person who does sell milk year-round.”

She silently nodded, looking around thoughtfully within the store. After billing her groceries, she bid him farewell and left the store.

It was quite strange, the man thought. In a small seaside town like this one, everyone knew everyone. Given the fact that he had grown up here too, he felt that he should know whatever there is to know about this woman.

Yet, no matter how hard he racked his brains, he couldn’t find a single piece of information about her. Something about her seemed familiar, yet distant.

What a strange person, he thought.

What a strange person, Alison thought, as she watched the woman ride the bicycle around the beach. It was a cloudy day, she thought. Hardly the appropriate day for bike riding.

What on earth is a woman of her age even doing riding a bike at this hour? She thought disapprovingly. Didn’t she have her children to attend to?

Then again. Given how old she looked, her children may be adults already. But whatever about propriety? Bike riding didn’t suit the elderly.

Instead of young children laughing and playing around the beach. However, this was early February, so the children were holed up at home studying. So now, there were only a few seagulls squawking, and the woman riding her bike, with a smile on her face.

Looking at her watch, she realized that she had to head home quickly. Any later, and her children would be cribbing for snacks.

How strange, she thought grumpily, shifting her groceries from one hand to another.

How strange, they thought. They knew about everyone in town. And everyone meant everyone.

But perhaps, they were mistaken. Because clearly, they didn’t know this person.

Juniper was a friendly person. They’d ask people how their days went, how their children were doing, the meals they liked to make, and their favourite movies. So, it seemed quite logical to them to get to know this new stranger.

But after observing her for almost ten minutes, Juniper still couldn’t approach this woman. It wasn’t as if she had a haughty or unapproachable aura. She seemed like quite a gentle person, with her attitude towards nature and animals.

Sometimes, she’d catch the woman looking a bit wistfully at families. Did she not have one?

Or perhaps, she lost her family.

Juniper felt a pang of sympathy in their heart for this mystery woman. But that sympathy wasn’t enough to make them go and exchange a few words, unfortunately.

However, Juniper continued to watch her and occasionally remained close by where this woman was currently feeding the ducks.

She seemed to like wearing earthy, floral patterns, Juniper noticed. Her hair was still dark, although it was streaked with silver-grey. Her hair was long and wavy, and part of it was braided away from her face.

Her face had wrinkles, and her skin was aging, with visible spots and sags already beginning to peek through. Her eyes, while kind, seemed to be dulled with a certain kind of tiredness Juniper had seen in their mother’s eyes after dealing with her in-laws, or their father after yet another argument with his brother. It was the kind of tiredness Juniper felt after their siblings overshadowed them, and no one seemed to make the effort to know them anymore.

Why would they bother, though? They could just ask their parents and siblings. No one even bothered to ask Juniper how their day went. They just asked their siblings. So Juniper would just smile, nod, and be as friendly as they could

An ancient kind of exhaustion. One that never quite went away, even after years of recovery.

The woman had a cherry blossom-patterned lunch bag, with a matching thermos.

Sidling a bit closer to her, Juniper could see that there was a nametag on the bag.

It read, Cerise Kaye.

“How lovely! Yes, that’s right, Cerise’s father used to own the lighthouse down the beach. I believe that’s where she lives now.”

“I see,” said Juniper. “You seem to know quite a bit about her.”

“Ah, I see,” the waiter said, her eyes sparkling. “Curious, are we?”

Juniper blushed in embarrassment.

“No issues, kiddo, we’ve all been there, don’t pay any mind to Lavender’s teasing.” The cook waved her wife off as she continued chopping the lettuce. “We both knew her parents, that’s all. But we were quite young when it all happened.”

“What happened?” Juniper asked, interested.

It was now Lavender’s turn to look unimpressed. “Nothing too grand, that’s what. Her father, Jonathan Kaye, and his family owned and looked after the lighthouse for generations. Many of them were also seafarers. Her mother, on the other hand, wasn’t exactly the bride they had in mind for their son, but they allowed the marriage to take place, nonetheless. After a few years of their marriage, there was a nasty row between the couple and his family, and they packed their bags and vanished into thin air.”

The cook continued, “Those old seafarers looked for them for months. There was no trace of them. Soon, their business began to crumble, and within a few years, it had all gone up in smoke.”

There was an awkward silence, filled only by the sounds of pots and pans banging together due to the wind that blew in through the window, and the sizzling of the fry-pan as the cook began to sauté the vegetables. Finally, she spoke:

“So, you can imagine our shock when the daughter of Mr. Kaye showed up after five decades, and promptly bought the lighthouse that was on sale after Mr Kaye’s sister passed away. She used to own that old lighthouse.”

“Does it still work?” Juniper asked.

“No one really uses it anymore, dearie. I’d assume it’s been maintained, but ships don’t really come near this particular harbour anymore. It’s been out of use for almost 10 years.”

“Cerise just swopped in one day, took ownership of the lighthouse, and it’s been that way ever since. No one questions it, as it’s supposed to be her birthright or whatever. But I can’t imagine she particularly enjoys living here, not after her family’s nasty history.”

“What nasty history?”

“Nothing we know much about, dearie,” the cook, Hyacinthe, mutters. “They were a rather odd bunch, those sailors. But we do know that nothing good can come out of dealing with a Kaye these days.”

“Nothing happens in this town anymore. The big industries packed up and left westward. Those factories have been made into residential complexes. Where did you say you lived again?”

“I didn’t.”

“Right, my mistake.”

“I live in the Greenview complex.”

“That old dump?”

“If you mean the older side of Greenview, then yes,” Juniper said.

“Who even lives there anymore?

“Clearly she does, Lavender.”

“Yes, I know, but haven’t they renovated that bit?”

“Yes, but some prefer to live in the older houses because of their families, Lavender.”

“Well, I wouldn’t know that, Hyacinthe, maybe because-”

“Because you don’t have a family. Yes, Lavender, we know.”

“And I think that it’s so funny you would say that because-”

“Because you think I’m making fun of you. Lavender, darling, I’m not, and I would never-”

“Then why’d you bring it up?”

“I did not!”

“Seriously, we’ve been married for thirty-five years, Hyacinthe, and you’re mocking me?”

“I’m not mocking you, Lavender! Don’t twist my words!”

“Oh, so you think I’m ugly?”

“Literally, when did I ever say THAT?”

It was so strange, Juniper thought, that a simple conversation about an apartment complex could trigger such a full-blown argument between two grown women who had been married for thirty-five years. Perhaps maturity didn’t come with age for some after all.

She left the Hyacinthe and Lavender, who continued to argue, and slipped out the back door of the diner. They didn’t even notice.

“I can’t tell you much about Cerise Kaye, but I can tell you about her mother,” said the man as he continued to hand out gyros to his customers. Juniper had to stand on their tiptoes to be able to talk properly with the man in the food truck.

“She was the daughter of a long-ruined businessman. Riches to rags, my friend. I believe those old seafarers had some unsuccessful dealings with her, I guess.”

“You guess?”

“The drama around Mrs. Kaye wasn’t very clear, to be very honest. Although the seafarers were a large clan, the whole issue was kept very hush-hush. Nobody knew a thing until the big row broke out, and the Kayes vanished in the dead of the night.”

There were a few minutes of silence between the two of them while the man served gyros, shawarma, and burritos to his customers. Finally, he spoke

“But I do have to ask,” The man said. “Why are you so interested in the life of an elderly woman who just returned to her hometown from god knows where?”

Juniper opened their mouth to speak, but nothing came out. It was true, they realized. What business was it of theirs to be digging up the past of someone who may have wanted to disappear quietly?

The food-truck man eyed Juniper curiously while wrapping up a burrito in tin-foil paper.

“Just curious, I guess,” Juniper shrugged nonchalantly.

Was it just curiosity, though? Or was it a strange desire to get to truly know this woman, who seemed comfortable with people assuming things about her based on the actions of her family.

Cerise Kaye lived almost like a fleeting ghost, Juniper thought. People know about her and her family’s issues, but no one has ever bothered to get to know her. In some ways, it was almost like she didn’t have a voice of her own. She’d never be the narrator of her own story.

She’s just like me, Juniper thought. I wanted to know about her. I wanted to know her. Not like how everyone treats me.

Thinking about this new revelation, Juniper went to sleep.

As always, Cerise was at the duck pond, giving the local ducks some croutons. Although Juniper wanted to speak to her, once again, they were unable to approach her. It was as if their feet were stuck to the ground.

About an hour went by with Juniper straying to the side, watching as Cerise fed the ducks and stared out on the vast surface of the pond.

After a while, Cerise got up to leave. At this point, Juniper ??? that it would be now or never.

Pausing for barely a moment, Juniper shouted, “Hey, miss!”

Cerise stopped in her tracks and turned around to stare inquisitively at Juniper.

Seeing how confidently Juniper looked at her, she said, “You know me.” It wasn’t a question, and after a few moments, Juniper realized that Cerise wasn’t bothering to inquire as to where they got their information.

Finally, knowing what to say, they said:

“No, I don’t. I know of you, but I don’t know you. But I want to.”

Cerise was silent, but it was clear she was stunned.

“I want to be your friend.” Juniper stuck their hand out, indicating a handshake. “Will you be my friend?”

Cerise stared at her for what seemed like an eternity, and then smiled. But this smile was a different smile.

See, in Juniper’s observation, Cerise smiling wasn’t uncommon. But her smile was usually a close-lipped one, with a gentle quirk at the corner of her mouth.

Right now, her smile was so wide, her face looked too small to contain her happiness.

Juniper liked that. They imagined they would smile once they finally felt heard.

And looking at Cerise’s smile, they felt that it would be sooner, and not later.

---------------------------------EPILOGUE---------------------------------

On another day, Juniper and Cerise sat side by side, with Cerise feeding the ducks while Juniper munched on their sandwich.

There was a peaceful silence until Cerise said, “You wanted to know me, right?”

That got Juniper to pause. They’d usually sit by the pond, each sitting together, keeping each other company in comfortable silence, and then they’d go their separate ways. Although Juniper had grandly declared they wanted to know Cerise really, they hadn’t done anything about it.

Saying nothing, Juniper only nodded.

“Well then, throw out everything you’ve heard from others.”

Juniper only raised their eyebrows.

“If you want to hear my story, you must know who the story begins with. Not who the others may have told you it began with.”

“Who is it then?” Juniper asked.

Cerise stared at the clouds in the sky with a wistful smile on her face, clearly reminiscing. “It’s my mother. Her name was Penelope Abbot.”

------------------------------------FIN--------------------------------------

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