NOVEL NEXT 6. Scrapbooking (Tess)
Amy sighed, "It bothers me because I don't like the idea of someone listening in on my thoughts. Not to mention, it means I have to be very careful what I think or say. I don't want this goddess person changing anything else or doing anything else to my life."
"It seems like she's only doing things to help you though?" I pointed out. "Like getting you out of a difficult conversation with your roommate, fixing your clothes, that sort of thing?"
"And those things only needed to be fixed because she turned me into a girl," she stated. "Which I didn't ask her to do in the first place!"
She sighed again, "Anyways my point is, all this stuff's happening to me and around me, and she's doing it all without asking first. Without checking to see if it's ok. And ontop of all that is the whole question of why'd I get dragged into this in the first place? You're the one who summoned her, why isn't she following you around doing all this stuff for you?"
I slowly shook my head, I didn't have those answers yet.
Amy picked up her water bottle and drank a few more gulps as she looked thoughtful again.
Finally she asked, "What else does your granny's diary say? I mean your grandmother did all this right? There must be more information in there."
I grimaced as I felt my cheeks colouring slightly. "She only wrote that she successfully summoned the Goddess, and that her wish was granted. She never wrote out what it was she wished for though. And uh, that was kind of the last thing in the journal. I think maybe whatever happened after the Goddess granted her wish, granny stopped using magic after that? Maybe she didn't need it anymore."
She looked frustrated as she sighed. "Is there anything else we can do? Would your parents know anything else about this stuff? Or your granddad?"
"Granny never married," I replied as I shook my head. "And I'm positive my mom doesn't know anything about the goddess or the journal. Although..."
I felt my cheeks going another shade of pink, "I have a trunk full of granny's stuff. I haven't really looked that closely at any of it, I kind of got as far as the journal and I've just been re-reading that."
Amy gave me a pointed look, she didn't have to say it.
"I'll go get it," I said as I got to my feet. "Maybe there's something else in there that can help."
It was stuffed in my closet, and my bedroom wasn't very tidy so I was grateful Amy stayed in the living-room while I went to get the trunk. It wasn't that heavy but it was bulky, and I struggled a bit getting it out of the closet then hauling it out of my room. I set it down on the floor in front of the sofa, then Amy and I sat next to each other as I opened it up.
Like I remembered, there were maybe a dozen old books, some articles of clothing, a few keepsakes. Nothing valuable, it all looked like sentimental stuff. Most of the books were well-worn paperbacks, I assumed they were granny's favourite novels. Towards the bottom I found what looked like a photo-album, but as I pulled it out I realized it was more like a scrap-book.
I set it on the coffee table, then opened it up so Amy and I could have a look through it.
The first page held an old black and white photograph, of three people standing in front of a small cottage-style house. It looked very quaint and rural. It was obviously a family portrait, presumably outside their home. I didn't recognize the man, but the woman and the teen girl looked familiar.
"I think that's my granny," I said as I pointed at the girl. "And those must be her parents. That's probably the home she grew up in?"
The next few pages were similar. More old black and white pictures, but they were smaller and a few were blurry. Probably snapshots rather than professional portraits. They depicted the older couple that I assumed were my great-grandparents, and one or two more were of my granny when she was a teen or young woman.
As we looked at them I told Amy, "Granny was from a small village in County Wexford, Ireland. That's a little ways south of Dublin."
She nodded slowly, but I knew this stuff was probably meaningless to her.
We passed a few more pages of snapshots, then found the first thing that wasn't a picture. There were two plane ticket stubs. They were one-way tickets, from Dublin to Toronto. The first one was in my granny's name, the name on the second was Amy Sullivan. They were dated July twenty-fourth, nineteen-sixty-four.
I thought back to what I could remember from the family history stuff my mom told me, and the dates were right. Granny moved to Canada when she was twenty-five, that would have been in nineteen-sixty-four.
"These must be from when granny emigrated to Canada." I pointed to the first one, "That's granny, Mary Cleary was her name. But I have no idea who Amy Sullivan is?"
I turned the page and found another old snapshot, this one was of my granny and another young woman. They both looked to be in their mid-twenties, and they were both smiling happily. The mystery woman had dark hair and a pretty face. I figured she had to be a friend of granny's, maybe the two emigrated together. I knew why my granny moved here, but mom's story never mentioned anyone else coming over with her.
There was some faint writing on the white border at the bottom of the picture. It read, 'Amy and I, finally in Canada ~'
I slowly turned the pages, and for a while I forgot all about why I was looking at the scrapbook in the first place. Instead I was a little bit captivated by the old photos and the little glimpses into my granny's life.
There was a receipt that showed granny and Amy Sullivan shared a hotel room for two weeks. Then a yellowed newspaper ad about apartments to let. A couple more photos, of granny standing in front of an old apartment building then inside what was presumably one of the apartments in that building. A faint caption beneath one of them read, 'Our first flat ~'
Another photo showed a smiling Amy standing next to a car. The caption for that one read, 'Amy's first left-hand-drive automobile. She promises no more crashes ~'
Then there were two pictures obviously taken at Christmas, and with the pictures were some small scraps of faded wrapping paper. One picture was of granny, the other of Amy Sullivan. Both shots had a little tree in the background of their living-room. My obviously-pregnant granny was holding up a sweater in the first photo, while Amy displayed a winter coat in the second. Both were captioned, 'Our first Canadian Christmas ~'
Then there was another yellowed newspaper clipping, dated Wednesday February seventeenth, nineteen-sixty-five. It was about a nasty winter storm that blanketed the city in snow the day before. For a moment I wasn't sure what to make of that, until I clued-in on the date. My mom's birthday was February sixteenth, so the storm must have hit the day she was born.
The next page held another photograph, of granny holding my mom. They were back at the apartment again. This one was captioned, 'Jodie, age 4 weeks ~'
The scrapbook continued serving up more of the same sort of content as I slowly made my way through it. There were more snapshots, newspaper clippings, and other random bits and pieces, that together gave me insight into my granny's life that I'd never have imagined. At some point in the seventies the pictures went from black and white to colour, though the colour was faded in some of the older ones.
The scrapbook revealed that Amy Sullivan was a life-long friend of my granny, and the two spent their lives together. It also convinced me that Ms. Sullivan helped raise my mom. There were holiday snaps of the three of them together, and Amy Sullivan was in the Christmas and birthday pictures as well.
Ms. Sullivan was even at my mom's wedding. She wasn't in the wedding party with granny or my dad's folks, but she was in the photos at the reception, sitting with granny. There was even a wedding invitation in the scrapbook, and I recognized my granny's handwriting on it. Where the invitation read 'Jodie, daughter of Mary Cleary' my granny had added 'and Amy Sullivan' next to her own name.
Granny and Ms. Sullivan moved a few times, but they were always together. After their first apartment they shared a duplex, then once my mom moved out and got married granny and Ms. Sullivan moved into another apartment together. Pictures and other keepsakes suggested Ms. Sullivan worked and supported the three of them while granny stayed home to raise my mom.
Towards the end of the scrapbook were a couple more baby photos, and I blushed as I realized they were pictures of me as an infant. There wasn't any writing on them, but I knew they had to be from late spring or summer of 'ninety-nine.
The last thing in the book was another newspaper clipping, along with some pressed dried flowers. The flowers were violets, and the clipping was an obituary notice for Amy Sullivan. It didn't list a date of birth, but it said she was born in Ireland, came to Canada in the sixties, and passed away on September ninth, nineteen-ninety-nine. It said she had no family, but was survived by life-long friend and companion, Mary Cleary.
I sighed, then flipped back to some of the pictures in the middle of the scrapbook. I stared at one of the holiday snaps from when my mom was a little girl. Mom and granny and Ms. Sullivan were at a beach somewhere. It seemed almost unbelievable but my granny must have been gay and this Amy Sullivan was her partner. And the two of them raised my mom together.
On the one hand it warmed my heart that granny got to spend her life with someone she loved, but on the other hand it made me a little angry at my mom. She always acted low-key homomisic. She never once acknowledged that I was gay and when Christine and I were living together mom always called her my 'roommate', never accepted that she was my girlfriend. I didn't even get an ounce of sympathy from mom when Christine dumped me and I found out she'd been cheating.
I was toying with the idea of calling mom up and demanding some answers, when a voice next to me commented "So that's kind of a weird coincidence."
"What?" I asked. I felt my cheeks going pink, I'd almost forgotten Amy was there. And I totally forgot why we were looking at the scrapbook in the first place, as I got carried away with the insights into my granny's and mom's lives.
Amy shrugged, "Your granny's friend? Both of us have the same name."
"Yeah," I frowned. "Except you're calling yourself Amy as a short-form for Amethyst right? Like Amethyst is your full name? I think Amy Sullivan's name was actually just Amy. That's what was on the plane ticket and the other stuff."
She nodded, "True. It still seems like a weird coincidence."
After hesitating a moment, I asked "Your last name's not Sullivan is it?"
Amy smiled and shook her head, "If it was I'd have been freaking out a lot more. My last name's Price. Not even close to Sullivan."
She gestured towards the snapshot I'd been looking at and added, "And she doesn't look anything like me either. Plus her hair's black rather than silver, and her eyes look blue. So yeah, it's just a coincidence. But it's a strange one."
I nodded as I found myself staring at the snapshot again, until Amy spoke up once more.
"So when did your granny summon the goddess? Like this scrapbook is practically a timeline of her life right? Where does the magic fit in on this journey?"
I reached over and picked up the journal from where I left it at the end table. There was only one date written down anywhere in the book, it was with the last entry. I basically had it memorized but I wanted to be absolutely sure before I told Amy. After checking again I turned the scrapbook back to the page with the airplane tickets.
"Granny did the summoning ritual on the night of June twenty-fifth, nineteen-sixty-four. Almost exactly a month before she came to Canada."
Amy frowned as she stared at the scrapbook for a few moments. She reached out and carefully turned the pages backwards from the tickets, past the old photos until she got to the start of the book.
She took a deep breath then let out a long sigh, "Ok that's another strange coincidence."
"What?" I asked. "What do you mean?"
She looked at me and shrugged, "There's no pictures or reference of Amy Sullivan until her name appears on the plane ticket. No hint that she was part of your granny's life before then. It looks like your granny didn't meet her until after she did the ritual and summoned the goddess. Same as you right? You didn't meet me till after you did the ritual."
I found myself staring at the scrapbook and the journal again. She was right, that made two strange coincidences. Granny and I both summoned the same goddess. And we both wound up knowing someone named Amy. In granny's case she and her Amy become partners. I had no idea yet how things were going to unfold between me and my Amy.
