#Imagine being the ornithologists who looked at a finch and thought 'That bird's got a Scottish accent' though

[the-busy-ghost]

The only REAL indigenous Scots

(x)

[artificialqueens]

Church of the Poison Mind (Trixya) Ch. 5 - Dahlia

AN: I’m so sorry for the wait, thank you all for your patience!! It’s been a rough couple of weeks trying to get this chapter out, and I could not have done it without my babies Lale and Matilda! <3 Thank you everyone for the kind words, they’ve really kept me going. Enjoy! :)

Her father’s truck was a bit older now, but just as beautiful and grand as the first time she’d seen it. She loved the metallic red paint, how it glittered in the sun; the smooth beige seats, and how her thighs, sticky with sweat, would adhere to the leather on hot days. She’d never forget the day he’d first brought it home, how foreign it looked in the driveway, how new and exciting.

Her mother had been jealous of it, of course, as she had with most things; resigned herself to the den with some remark about a whirlwind romance between him and the OnStar lady. Trixie liked it though, loved it, especially the DVD player he’d had installed just for her. It felt like home, a feeling that was ever fleeting those days.

The truck felt different with her riding shotgun, that woman. The woman she’d seen around at company barbecues, and holiday parties. It was okay though, they weren’t doing anything wrong, just giving her a ride home. After all, the barbecue had gone on later than usual, and she was probably just too tired to drive herself home. Probably just too drunk, they both were. Trixie could see her father’s sunken eyes in the reflection of the rear view mirror, and she worried then of her mother, pictured her still awake, counting minutes on her fingers. Trixie wondered how late they’d be back this time, if there’d be hell to pay when they got home.

The moon hung low in the sky, full and bright, and her eyes constructed images around its yellow glow. A suspension of ropes and pulleys, ticking gears and thudding sandbags; she imagined, risen each night by some stagehand, sheathed in darkness. Quite like the rise and fall of her chest, hollowed, with its own network of webbed intricacies, and backstage operators. Every thought that passed through her suspending some great disbelief.

And then it happened, simple and absent mindedly, it happened. She witnessed her father’s hand drift across the center console, slide up her knee, and come to rest on the bulk of her thigh. And everything shattered, like a picture frame torn from the wall, a crack down the center of their family portrait. Fevered tears broke havoc against the sweet swell of her pink cheeks, streaming off of her chin, tangling in her hair. Every lie Trixie had ever told herself, told her mother, dissolved into the break of dawn.

On ceaseless nights, when sour thoughts kept her awake, she could still hear his voice, soft and sweet, like a whisper; could still see his face, half shaded under the flickering glow of the porch light.

2:01 A.M. A school night.

“I’m just gonna make sure she gets home okay, alright? But I might not be home until really late, so don’t get worried. Go right to bed, don’t wait up. If she asks, just tell your mama that I crashed at Ben’s house. You wouldn’t want her thinking anything funny, right? That would just make us fight more, and I know you don’t want that.”

She waited up anyway. He hadn’t come home, again.

—

A cooling dew lingered in the grass well into late morning, a damp thickness clinging to the sparse brown leaves overhead. And as the sun–intermittently veiled, bestrewn with foreboding storm clouds–continued its curvature across the early November sky, the crests of the Catskills faded into a soft, foggy gray. The usual birds of sunrise, still tucked away in their dens, nestled quietly into the faint whisper of calm. And through strained ears, Trixie leaned outward to listen, to the finches and rain doves, chattering happily into the wake like friendly beacons. She smiled warmly from the front window, pulled on a cardigan, and sent silent thanks to Violet for refilling the bird feeders like she’d asked.

Trixie stepped off of her front porch and into the light of morning; she paused for a moment, allowed the mist to settle into her lungs, and started down the drive. Kim’s car sat idling, parallel the sidewalk, and clouds of exhaust billowed from its tailpipe, swirling into streams of daylight. She bounced down the wooden steps, and as the screen door swayed shut, thoughts of Katya, quite like beads of water, evanesced into the air.

A weekend of rumination, of sunlight and crisp autumn air, had brought her to a few conclusions, and she settled into them, calm and ready. It was a new day, a fresh start. Things would be different, they had to be.

4 missed calls.

Kim greeted her with a sleepy smile, and they made their way to the university. Waves of bleary eyed students filtered in and out of cars in a revolving shuffle, and Trixie was resentful toward Kim for dragging her out of bed so early. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes, careful around her mascara, parted ways with Kim, and set off for something to fill the hours before her first class.

“Trixie, darling!” a familiar voice called from across the quad, “Kim was just telling me that you’re a bird nerd like me!”

Trixie pivoted her upper body to find Max, standing excitedly by the marble steps of the front entrance, waving around a stack of flyers. She stood beneath a small gray umbrella, and her hair seemed almost lighter in the overcast, her skin, pale and unblemished. Trixie took comfort in her warmth, found shelter from the rain in her kind eyes; rainy days suited her.

“A bird nerd?” Trixie smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Forgive me, do you prefer ornithologist in training?”

“Well, I wouldn’t exactly call myself an ornithologist, but I like bird watching.”

“My apologies! Might I say, you’d be perfect for our bird watching club. We meet every Friday.”

Max extended a flyer to Trixie, it read across the top, in looping cursive: Live and Let Fly.

“I highly wren-commend it,” Max continued, “It’s a real hoot, but by all means, take some time and really gull it over.”

They paused for a moment, a beat resting between them, before falling into laughter.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me. Promise you’ll still attend?” Max said, red in the face.

“Of course I will, I wouldn’t want to ruffle your feathers.” Trixie grinned.

The girls laughed while thoughts of sanctuary echoed through her, and despite those dark hours, when loneliness crowded the lull of her exhale, she felt safe here, at home. She found friends who suited her, soothed her, jokes that made her laugh; but she was wary, things like home, safety, loomed like a cruel and efficient saboteur. She rose with the sun each morning, just on the cusp of daybreak, knowing that if she’d only risen a few moments sooner, her room would still rest in darkness.

—

As the afternoon progressed, dark storm clouds closed the sky and rain beat hard against the windows of her chemistry classroom. She sat lost in daydream, and the hours passed happily, her ears savoring the sweet drum of downpour from her cozy spot indoors. She worried then of how she’d make it to Kim’s car without an umbrella, but decided to pay it little mind.

“Well, it would look as though we are finished!” Katya beamed, Wednesday having come and gone with ease, “I expect those papers by Friday. So make like little ants on ground and work, mama, work. Get. It. Done.” She stood from her swivel chair at the head of the class, made her way to the door, and clasped her hands together, watching as students trickled out.

“Rain is like cats and dogs, get home safe little ants, crawl on home!” she called after them.

Trixie smiled as she brushed passed Katya on her way out the door; her hair was much longer than it had been at the start of the year, but her lectures grew shorter and shorter by the day. Instead, she delved deeper into projects and labs, which the class preferred; Trixie being the exception. Katya had such ardor for her work, such an encompassing enthusiasm. And Trixie could listen to her speak for hours, wanting nothing more than to cocoon herself in that Russian curl.

“Tracy! One second, I speak to you?”

Trixie blushed, stopping in her tracks, and Katya waited for the room to clear before speaking.

“Your last lab,” she began, beaming, “The notes were so… extensive! So spirited. You are such strong writer.”

“Really?” Trixie’s breath hitched in her chest as Katya’s soft eyes came to rest on hers. Bird songs outside the second floor window rang in her ears, instinctively, she plucked out the staccato trilling of nearby chickadees. She settled into the chatter, looked down at her hands, and then to Katya’s pointed pumps. The tips of their toes faced each other, and Trixie peered up from under painted lashes, unable to escape the shy smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. Katya still had the impression of rimmed safety goggles outlining her eyes.

“It is quite welcome change from the usual drone, maybe you could give Roxxxy a few pointers?”

“That bad, huh?” Trixie grinned, her body leaning inward.

“Have you ever watched the corpse of a tiny, hairy pig slowly decay?”

They laughed in unison; Katya’s laugh a little too great for the moment. And Katya slipped off her lab coat, folding it over one arm, before throwing it over the edge of the desk. As she did this, the fabric teased down her shoulder. Trixie’s heart skipped a beat. The A-line of Katya’s dress cut into the sharp indentation of her collarbone, the red brightly contrasting her creamy shoulders. And the space between the dwindled.

“I should get going, Kim’s probably waiting for me… she doesn’t like the rain, she’s always afraid it’ll mess up her makeup.”

The words left Trixie’s lips a bit breathier than she’d intended them to.

“I’m glad we can talk like this, I like you. I want you to feel comfortable around me,” she said, stale cigarettes and dirty chai leaving her tongue, “see you tomorrow, Tallulah?”

“Tomorrow,” she smiled.

She waited for Katya to collect her folders, albeit longer than she’d expected to, as Katya slovenly sifted through the clutter. Trixie held out the door for her, and the scent of cardamom crept out of Katya’s empty coffee cup from where it perched against her ribcage, pressed into the crook of her elbow; Trixie would miss the lingering twist of clove when they parted ways.

—

Trixie swiped a school paper from the welcome desk, and held it over her head, braving the downpour. She scurried to Kim’s usual parking spot, to find that another car had taken its place. Trixie pressed a protective hand to her forehead in an attempt to shelter her mascara. Her eyes wandered across the parking lot, stopping on every idling car. She peered down at her dress, noticing that the cotton had gone sheer under the weight of the rain. There had been a tree close by, just tall enough for Trixie to duck under, and she did, though the rain persisted steadily through the branches. Her phone screen dotted with small beads of water as she pulled it from her purse and opened their group chat.

Trixie: Bitch where are you??? It’s pouring??? I could win a wet t-shirt contest tbh

Kim: oh

Kim: MY

Kim: GOD

Trixie: WHAT

Kim: girl I’m so sorry, so sorry. I promised Jinkx a ride to the secondary exhibition tonight and I totally forgot to tell you…

Jinkx: Sorry girl! I had no idea!

Trixie: FUCK. can you please let me know these things ahead of time?? Idk like maybe one of the 40,000 times I saw you today?????????????????????

Pearl: OKAY QUESTION MARKS.

Kim: I said sorry, can I call you a cab?

Trixie: don’t worry about it, it’s okay. I’ll get an Uber or something.

Kim: I love you!!

Trixie: Ily2

It wasn’t okay, but Trixie couldn’t be upset for long. Kim meant well, she always had. Her commitments were just piled too high, her inhibitions stretched thin, and Trixie couldn’t blame her for being scatterbrained. Trixie wiped her phone screen with the already dampened edge of her dress and tucked it beneath her palm, hopeful that water wouldn’t seep into the speakers. The blaring trill of someone laying on their horn made small hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

“Tamara! You’re dripping wet, chicken. Is that rain water, or are you just really happy to see me?” Katya called, hanging her head out of the car window. Her wood-panelled station wagon seethed under a canopy of trees, and thick exhaust clouded heavily into the fog while water sheeted down the rear windows.

“What?” Trixie shouted back over the roar of the engine, squinting through the rain.

“Where’s your ride?”

“Don’t have one!”

“Get in loser!”

Trixie hesitated for a moment, then hurried to the passenger’s side. The handle resisted a bit at first, her fingers slick against the metal, but gave in under her grasp, and the door opened with a long, creaking groan. She tossed her bag over the front seat, and into the back, throwing her bottom down onto the cracked leather. As she slammed the door shut, empty coffee cups and fast food wrappers upended beneath her feet, crunching beneath her boots.

Trixie paused to eye Katya in the driver’s seat, and the image of her fit so naturally. Her cheeks warmed.

“Thank you… So much, really. I was like a drowned rat out there!” Trixie offered, smoothing the skirt of her dress down around her thighs. The fabric wrinkled together in sopping bunches and matted ringlets of hair pressed flat against her face, streaming tears of rainwater down her skin. Trixie looked down at her soaked clothing, and tried to conceal the lace of her bra, more so the hard push of her nipples through the sheer of the fabric. Though she was relieved to be safe from the rain, a chill ran through her.

“Da, a drowned rat! But one of those pretty, award winning rats, like from the reality TV shows! Glamorous trash rat, you are!” Katya wheezed into laughter.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Trixie lilted in response.

Katya pulled the car out of park, eased her foot onto the gas, and the car jerked forward. Trixie, wide eyed and slightly panicked, made haste fastening her seatbelt.

“You’ve never seen Rat Wars?” Katya turned to face Trixie, excitedly,  “It was such big deal where I’m from! Mama Zamolodchikova was GAGGED when little Vinny got disquali-”

“Watch where you’re going!” Trixie shouted over her.

Katya made a sudden, exaggerated swerve around a group of pedestrians, just missing them, and they glared up at her from underneath colorful umbrellas. Katya continued on, completely unaffected.

“ANYWAY, it’s wild! People take their rats very seriously. There’s so many varieties!”

Trixie’s phone screen lit up; 11 missed calls. She pushed passed the notification.

Trixie: THANKS A LOT. Now I’m in a car with this FREAK.

Kim: omg who

Trixie: K a t y a

Pearl: OH SHIT SOMEBODY’S GETTIN LAID TONIGHT I HOPE YOU SHAVED GIRL

Trixie: pls die

A swell of Russian folk music resonated softly from the tinny speakers, and Katya let a hand fall to the dial to quiet it.

“You know, it isn’t nice, telling your friends to die. Now please, tell this freak where you live so we can get your soggy ass off my leather seats,” Katya beamed, proudly.

“OKAY.” Trixie mused, “If you could not read my texts, that’d be super cool! To be honest, you being a freak isn’t really a surprise to anyone though. It’s kind of common knowledge at this point.”

“You would know better than anyone…” Katya eyed her suggestively, raising an eyebrow, “actually, you don’t have to tell me where you live, I remember.”

“Can you please keep your eyes on the road, freak.” Trixie’s face flushed.

“Sure thing, Tracy.”

Katya made a few wrong turns but managed to find Trixie’s house, and the car puttered to a stop, lurching forward as she put it in park.

Trixie turned to face her, her cheeks a soft pink. They rested in the quiet for what felt like centuries, their eyes making and breaking contact. Without looking down, Trixie picked at the chipped edge of her manicure.

“Thank you, for the ride, really, I appreciate it… Hey,  wanna come inside?” she offered nervously, “I can put on a pot of coffee, or whatever it is creatures like you live off of.”

“I would,” Katya paused to curate an excuse, “but… I have some work with small children to attend to. Another time, perhaps?”

“Sure thing.”

She faltered for a moment, and an uneasy silence snuck in between them. Embarrassment flooded Trixie’s bloodstream, pooling hot and harsh in her temples. She couldn’t believe she’d really said that to her professor, and looking back, the entirety of their conversation felt suddenly inappropriate. Had she pushed too far, made Katya uncomfortable? A small sickness blossomed within her.

She scanned Katya’s face, searching for something, anything, a hint of remorse. Instead of unease, she found simmering tension, a whisper of regret even. Trixie could feel the gravity between them, almost palpable, pulling them closer like magnets.

“You know Tracy… I really enjoy having you.”

“Having me?” Trixie leaned in, whispering softly, her words close to Katya’s lips. She couldn’t help herself. Their mouths were close, their noses closer, but not quite touching.

Katya’s face flushed, her eyelashes fluttering closed.

“As a student, I mean. I mean, you know what I mean.” Her eyebrows raised, her eyes still shut.

They teetered there, in that space together, and fog ballooned across the windows around them; they were almost touching, almost.

Trixie wrestled herself away from Katya’s allure, wishing she had instead just closed the space between them. She inhaled a shaky breath, steadying herself. Her shoulders shook on the exhale, like a leaf fallen in last year’s sky, wavering to the concrete, waiting to be flattened by unforgiving shoes.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, da?” Katya half whispered, her lips still startlingly close to Trixie’s.

Trixie could feel the blood leave her face, could hear it then, pounding in her ears.

“Tomorrow,” she replied.

Unbeknownst to Trixie, her purse lay forgotten in the back seat, looming, like Cinderella’s glass slipper on the staircase.