Sun Kissed Innsmouth
Part Eighty Four
“I knew my grandmother was awful, I always assumed she grew into that person. I used to hope that it was her age and the indignities that come with age that had something to do with how sour and angry she always was. My time in the village, and my time here have taught me otherwise.”
Josephine only grunted noncommittally and went back to stirring the cook pot.
“I’m sorry that happened to you, I’m sorry all of it did. I’m sorry my Nana is such a mean and hateful person. It wasn’t an accident though, those men heard me outside their shack and attacked me and they got away with it. I deserve to recognize what was done to me. My pain shouldn’t be measured against yours. Misery isn’t a contest.”
Josephine dumped a few handfuls of mushrooms into the pot and closed the lid on it. “What’s wallowing in that pain doing for you? What has all that misery ever done for you? You’ve got a long life ahead of you, girl. All kinds of important minutes and moments and countless dull hours in between, I can’t stop you from filling them all with misery or doubt or even self-hatred but I can assure you that all your pain, all your misery, it ain’t shit. Neither was mine. It’s not a contest, you’re right there. Life isn’t meant to be a race to the bottom.”
Josephine took the handful of steps from the cook pot back over to the work station and stood close to Felecia as she continued, “The people who hurt you, all of them, they was just scared. All mean ever was is scared dressed up as something else. People are what they are, some are good and kind, most are shit and not to be trusted at all, but at least you can trust some of them. There’re other things out there, girl. Worse things than people. What you need to be doing is worrying about that more, and worrying about your marked up face less.”
The old woman was going off on another tangent about the fearful spirits and nonsense that had her, and Felecia, running through the woods wearing carved wooden masks and ponchos covered in mud and urine. Felecia was placating by then, ducking out of the conversation for the sake of retaining some form of normalcy for the remainder of the night but Josephine was already building in fervor.
“Men out in these woods, something ugly overtakes them come the full moon. It’s what she brought with her, my grandmother. The thing that followed the boat here. It’s still out there on the northern beach, still sending its spawn into the woods, all hungry and ready to do its bidding. It holds sway over the water and the moon and it’s always hungry.”
Felecia focused on the cool beeswax and she began setting the wick line and rolling the sheets around it. She smiled and nodded at all the right moments while trying not to listen to the old woman’s insane rambling. She was doing a good job of it for a while until Josephine motioned at her scar and her slightly drooping mouth.
“Women, I don’t know them like you might but I know they aren’t as hung up on looks as men are. If that’s the source of your worry I imagine you won’t be kept from love there.”
Felecia was still thirteen then, if not much longer. She was still naïve and fearful of her own obvious inclinations. She was still angry with Rachel because the older girl so obviously rebuked her earnest first love. No one deserved the knowledge of her forbidden lust, least of all the half mad, great aunt she shared a dingy cave with.
“I don’t know what you’re hinting at but I assure you, you’re wrong.”
Josephine shrugged and walked back to the stew pot. “It’s not a race to the bottom, but my sin is greater than yours, always was and will be. For all of me, I don’t think any of it is sin at all but for the sake of appearances, I did worse, far worse. You being a woman who loves women, it happens, it’s alright by any book if you read it right. All I’m saying is, women aren’t hung up on looks like men are.”
Later, much later, Felecia would grow thankful for Josephine’s words in that moment but at the time she doubled down on her denials and her frustrations at having her proclivities pointed out until the old woman dropped the subject altogether.