The Conversation

I wasn’t really sure what it was about. They just told me it needed to happen. I sat down and watched as one of them poured me a glass of whiskey.

“Odd…I thought the rum love would have passed onto to the three of you.”

She snorted affectionately at me.

“Whiskey is a hard woman’s drink.”

She sat down and leaned back in her chair with a much larger glass of whiskey than my own and looked at me. I looked at the other two women around me. The three of them were unique but the same in a way that I still wasn’t sure I was comfortable with.

“Did I make ya’ll too hard?”

Idanu, the woman sitting to the right of me, scoffed. Out of all of the three, she was still the biggest mystery. Her appearance wouldn’t hold still yet, but the tall boots propped up onto another chair and the pipe in her hand made her distinctive.

“You might have made us too soft for some folks.”

I laughed derisively.

“I couldn’t care less about what some folks think. I’m more worried about whether or not ya’ll are real.”

Lacy who was sitting across from me chuckled.

“Like I’m going to be real. I know what you have planned and what needs to happen for me to be me.”

“You know what I mean, Lacy!”

“I know, I know.”

Dominique chuckled from my left. Out of all of the women, she was the most unnerving. When I looked at her, I saw a reflection of myself despite her story being years ahead of right now.  Dominique was the one who no one knew yet. Yet her story was the most complete.

I slammed the rest of the whiskey back and frowned at the three women.

“Have I succeeded in making you three individuals despite the fact there are pieces of me in all of you?”

Idanu, being the damn shifting new child to my brain that she was, smiled.

“No worries, ‘mom’. I’m you all right, but you won’t be finishing my story any time soon. There’s too much to get right and it’s going to take time.”

Much to my chagrin, Idanu vanished in a cloud of pipe smoke. I had had several questions for her but she didn’t like holding still long enough for more of her story to come through. So far it was just tiny pillars of something that I would frantically write down at points of time during the day that would leave breakfast a bit more crispy than I liked it.

Lacy poured me another shot finally.

“And you..” I said pointing at her, “You should hate my damn guts for what I’m going to be talking about via you. You know how hard it’s being trying to put those memories into a good story?”

She smiled sadly and looked back at me.

“Evie, you and I both know those are memories that don’t fit in the other’s worlds. It fits here. It’ll be good. Painful but good. And both of us are going to be stronger for it.”

Lacy finished her shot, set the glass on the table and left. I sighed, looking at the crochet work in my lap and the whiskey in my hand. Looking back up, I found myself looking at Domni. She tilted her head slightly while looking back at me.

“Feels weird, don’t it?”

Domni was my first born character that had survived this long. We knew where the story was going, what was going to happen, and how it all ended. It was just a matter of telling it right.

“But are you different enough-”

“-From you? Hell no.  I’m you.  I’m your better self. The more skilled, more bad ass, more confident, stronger you. The one you want to become someday.”

I looked back at the glass in my hand then back at her.

“I don’t plan on going anywhere either. You’re stuck with me until this over.”

I frowned.

“What happens if it’s just the three of you that I end up doing and that’s it?”

Domni jerked her thumb to a hallway off to our right and I managed to catch a glimpse of a child standing in the doorway before she ran away.

“Am I stuck writing female leads?”

“You sure seem that way.”

“So in other words…”

“Stop worrying so much. You’ve got this.”

Domni and I both looked at the new voice. She was a tall elegant woman, my muse. She liked looking like Galadriel when she was around. She sat down and poured herself a glass of whiskey.

“I told you long ago, that when you were ready we would be together through all of this. Now that you’re finally in a place were the stories can come out,” she said.


I got smacked on the forehead for that.

“No, you’re healed up enough to write.”

I stuck my tongue out at her. She liked the nickname Gala, as I’m not sure muses have names despite how many there are.  I finished my glass again, as Domni and Gala finished theirs.  Gala poured the round to follow and stood up, holding out her glass. Domni followed her and I did as well finally.

“To the future worlds to come, be they chaos or order,” Gala said with a smile.
“To pains buried deep being put to rest,” Dominique told me with a firm look.
“To times and stories yet untold…” I finished.