The flowers were lovely and best of all they were exotic.  Claudia could not get over how strange they looked like figments of a dream.  How unreal the colors and strange the shapes.  She circled the vase not for the first time appreciating them.  She was both aware and unaware of what such flowers must have cost Victor.

            Her mother, who watched from the doorway, was only aware.  She watched her only daughter circle this gift like a kitten.  Both mother and daughter seemed predatory but neither wild.  They both were domestic and starched.  Only in their eyes could raw animal hunger be seen.  And the mother hungered for something though her thin lips did not part to explain but only tightened further.

            Claudia became aware of her mother in an instant but pretended she was not.  She finished her circle before looking up though her mind left the flowers before she finished.  Her attention was already fastened on her mother, Louisa.

            “What is it that you desire, Mother?”

            “That is no way to greet your mother.”

            “Hello, Mother.  What is it you desire?”

            Mother and daughter stalked each other even in their stillness.  Their words like quiet hissing.  Somehow one would become the hunter and one the prey because this was not a battle for victory but one for mangling.

            “Have a seat,” The mother said.  The daughter was obedient.  “I wish to speak with you.”

            “Yes, Mother.” Claudia crumbled but only in her demurring eyes.  Her heart was in this battle though it did know the direction.  Now she knew herself to be the prey.

            “You are to be married soon.” The mother began.

            “Indeed.” Claudia smiled her teeth like claws.  You may kill me, they said, but I shall claw your eyes out and score your skin.  “My betrothed sends me such lovely gifts.  Have you ever seen such flowers?”

            The mother had not.  The daughter knew this.  Widowed mothers of marginal merchants were not wooed exotically.

            “Some of my friends received such things.  They spoke of it but I married for love, no such things were needed.”

            Claudia might have stumbled had she not been seated.  Her mother had said this before and Claudia had disbelieved it.  Who, after all, could love her drunken bore of a father?  Now, without warning, it occurred to her that her mother was not speaking of her second husband but her first.  For the first time the barb hit home.

            And for the first time she looked past the brittle cold mother she knew and saw the scared lonely girl she must have been.  The man she loved left her into the irrevocably cold embrace of death.  She was left behind with an infant daughter and the bitter heart of one abandoned.  Yet at least then she was allowed to love her late husband, allowed to see him in her daughters growing face.  She was allowed to keep her memories close to her heart.  Even living, once again, in her father’s house on perhaps thin charity, at least Louisa had her memories and the daughter of her love.

            But then, because her father could not be expected to support her forever, she was married off while her heart was still in mourning.  No doubt a decent period of waiting had been kept, but certainly when an offer came there was no second thought given.  This marriage was too a widower Louisa did not even like but certainly not someone she could ever hope to love.

            Perhaps the worst part was that her new husband claimed her daughter as his own.  He acted as if she was in fact his blood.  How she must have hated that.  She was no longer supposed to have fond memories for herself but he robbed her of the daughter she’d had in love.  Now everything was his and her late husband was nothing but dust.  She was left with nothing but a loveless marriage, a boy child she must care for though he was not her own, and a daughter who reminded Louisa of all she had lost.

            Claudia both pitied and loved her mother for one long moment.  It couldn’t last.

            Her mother’s expression was too cold; the resentment had sat to long on both.  It did not matter now, if it ever had, how they became who they were.  It only mattered that was who they were.

            “And you did amazingly well for yourself.” Claudia said.

            “I can only hope you do as well.”

            “I shall be happy with him.”

            “Your happiness is hardly an issue.” Louisa paused to let her bite sink in.  “you will be well off and that is all your father and I could see to.  Your happiness rests with you and God.”

            “You did not come here for this.  To chat with me.”

            “That is true but it is such a pleasure to chat with you.”

            Claudia waited silently her hands folded in her lap.  Sooner or later her mother would have to explain her reason for this visit.  Then if there was any justice at all in the world the mother would leave and she could sit and ponder this new vision.  She wondered if she would have liked the woman who birthed her.  Back when her mother was young would they have gotten on?

            “As you are getting married I thought it proper to allow you some decisions regarding your own welfare.” 

            “What decision?” The question came out abrupt and nervous. 

            Louisa smiled with her victory.  Her nails curled against her dress and Claudia wondered if she would tare that to bits as well.  “Your piano teacher has injured herself and it is no longer possible for her to travel here to instruct you.”

            Claudia nearly allowed herself to smile.  Perhaps now she could dispense with the dreadful stuffy lessons.  She only hoped she was not expected to pick up something even more tedious.

            “We wish for you to continue with your lessons but I convinced your father that if you wished it you could travel to Philomena’s home instead of finding a new instructor.”

            Claudia bit down on her own disappointment before it occurred to her this might be even better.  If she could take her lessons elsewhere at least she could get away from this dreadful house.  Philomena was pleasant enough for a spinster and Claudia wondered if she might not be even more pleasant in her own home.  “I should like to continue with Philomena, Mother.”

            Louisa nodded sharply.  “As you will.  I will inform your father and make the proper arrangements.” 

            The Mother swept from the room leaving behind only her scent.  Claudia found it unpleasant and returned to her flowers.  She stared down into them.  She tried to pretend that a worm was not crawling around in her heart.  For all my beauty, she thought, for all my purity, that woman found a man to love her and I have not.  The flowers were a little less spectacular with that in mind.

            It would be even more exotic and even more beautiful to have the life her mother had almost had.  It made her life, brilliant flowers and all, seem drab and meaningless.  Did all exotic things fade?  The flowers would die, wilt, and decompose just as her mother’s love had. 

            Claudia turned away from the flowers and flopped over in a chair.

Title Reference:
   *Shelly, Mary.  “Frankenstein” Penguin books USA inc. Co 1983: 136