Celeste

by V. C. Andrews

  "Patience and faith." she would tell me. "Patience and faith. Just do as you are doing, my darling boy," she told me. It will all come true."

  And then, like a lightning bolt from the reality that hovered around us and over us. I was struck with a realization one morning that burned fear through my body, singeing my very soul. It came with a small, almost unrealized ache. I yawned and ran the palm of my hand down my chest. The bump surprised me. and I sat up quickly. I felt for it again, on both sides. Then I stood up and went to the mirror. It could not be denied.

  My breasts had begun to blossom.

  I was eleven by now, actually only months away from being twelve. When we were five. Mommy had insisted on teaching us about human anatomy. Daddy thought we were too young to learn about such things. but Mommy insisted the public schools were wrong to treat the human body as if it were an X-rated movie,

  Up until the end of that year, Noble and I did many things together that we wouldn't do again. We took baths together. We went to the bathroom in front of each other and put our under-things on in front of each other. I think we were like Adam and Eve before they tasted knowledge.

  After the lessons, we began to avoid each other's eyes whenever we did any of these things. If one of us looked at the other, we would scream. Both of us denied peeping, but Mommy told us that it was a natural and good thing to be modest by then.

  "Shame in, sin out," she would say, but we didn't quite understand the meaning of it. We only knew we felt uncomfortable doing things we had never thought much about before she had given us the lessons in anatomy and porn' ted out how different we were and would be.

  When Noble learned about the female producing eggs, he thought it was so funny. He teased me often by checking my bed in the morning to see if, like the hens. I had laid one. I would moan and cry. I know Mommy was considering separating us soon before the tragedy. She was going to convert the sewing room into a bedroom for one of us. But that never happened.

  Now that I discovered the bumps growing on my chest, I suppose what surprised and even frightened me the most was the fact that I had forgotten what was coming. It had been so long since I had done what we knew as girl things. I don't think I gave a second thought to myself being pretty or goodlooking. Not long after Noble recuperated from his broken leg, Mommy had disconnected the television set and moved it into the back of the pantry. where it was covered by a small tarp. We had no magazines. The only time I ever thought about girl things was when we went shopping and I could catch glimpses of magazines or see girls in the stores or streets or once a year at the school.

  I looked at girls the way someone would look at something very foreign, almost extraterrestrial. I was afraid Mommy might see some longing in my eyes. so I tried not to stare or let her catch me looking at any of them. The truth was. I was so different now, caught somewhere in between, floating, waiting to land and become someone.

  Sometimes girls in the stores looked at me with something more than just simple curiosity. I could see it in their faces. What did they see when they looked at me? I wondered. Was there something about themselves that they recognized in me. something I couldn't change or cover? It was terrifying. I imagined some girl or even some boy looking my way, pointing and laughing.

  "Exactly what is that?" they would scream. "She's not a boy and she's not a girl," they would chant, and I would flee. Mommy would be devastated.

  The best way to avoid it was to look away, and never, never think about it. For a long time, it worked, and then... this. I couldn't but help feel my body was betraying me, betraying all of us.. How could Celeste insist on returning to this body? Hadn't I had not only seen her buried in the old cemetery, but buried her as deep down within myself as possible? I wouldn't even permit Celeste's dreams into my mind anymore.

  For a moment I thought about cutting the buds off my chest. smothering Celeste before she could even think of opening her eyes inside me. I even took a knife to myself, but I couldn't do it. Instead. I did what Mommy hated. I sat down and I cried. She heard me as she was passing my room, and a moment later, she opened the door and looked at me.

  I was on my bed, wearing only my underpants.

  "What is it?" she asked. "What could be so terrible as to make a soon-to-be-strapping young man creep like some infant? Well?" she demanded when I didn't respond immediately.

  I turned instead and thrust my chest into her view. She stared, her eyes widening.

  What would this mean? Would she hate me? Would the spirits never speak to me?

  She didn't yell. She nodded her head slowly instead.

  "Grandma Jordan once told me about a relative of ours, a boy who was developing into a girl. I'll have to go back and study the remedies," Mommy said. "Until I find something. never take your shirt off outside."

  It wasn't something I did anyway.

  "And stop this baby bawling. We have a problem. We solve the problem. That's what we do and what we will always do. Noble. Nov get dressed, and let's start the day." she concluded and left me soon to understand that my sexuality had become my illness, my handicap, a burden to lift and toss aside.

  She tried different remedies on me, concoctions of herbal drinks and even some salves. I thought the hair on my arms was growing darker and thicker, but other than that, nothing changed. In fact, my breasts continued to grow. Every morning I woke and stared at myself. One time. I didn't hear Mommy come to the door, and she watched me gently touch my nipples.

  "Stop!" she screamed. "You must deny it. You must force it back or... or..." She couldn't get herself to voice what would be the result if I didn't. but I knew in my heart what she thought. The words, like mold on a bread, formed on my brain: "Or Noble would die again."

  A little while later, she reappeared with a roll of gauze, and she wrapped it around my emerging breasts. She went around and around to be sure I couldn't see through it, and then she taped it and stood back.

  "For a while I will be the one who changes that and unwraps it," she said. "I want you to put it out of your mind, forget it's there, understand?"

  "Yes," I said.

  It wasn't easy. Some days, especially on very hot and muggy ones. I would sweat, and it would itch terribly. I tried not to complain, but there were occasions when it was so uncomfortable for me. I couldn't help myself. She saw me scratching and pulled me inside, marching me back up to my room. There she unraveled the gauze, as she did from time to time. Lately, when she stepped back, she looked more unhappy. I knew it was because I was getting bigger, rounder.

  She rubbed one of her salves roughly on and around my breasts and then wrapped me again, so tightly. I complained that I couldn't breathe.

  "Just get used to it," she said. "You'll be all right." Eventually. I was able to ignore the feeling. The itching became less and less severe, and in time. Mommy was right. I was able to forget being strapped down. She continued to give me some of her herbal concoctions. Once in a while they made me sick to my stomach, and one time I threw up for a whole day and was unable to do any work at all.

  She paced the house, mumbling to herself.

  "Something evil has taken hold,'' she muttered to me, her eyes full of suspicions. She made me feel guilty. and I had to look away. That seemed to confirm something for her. She went out to talk to her spirits .

  Then, one night, long after I had fallen asleep, the lights went on in my room. and I saw her standing there, her eyes wide.

  "It's Celeste," she declared. "It was one thing to come around here and smile at me, and even come with your father and look sweet and lovable on your birthdays, but the truth is that no matter what I've told her and what she has been told by others, she is refusing to rest in peace. I must keep her away from us until she does."

  "How can we do that. Mommy?" I asked, more intrigued than ever.

  "She is not to return to the house. You must not think of her. You're giving her opportunities, providing a doorway from the other side, a portal through which she is crossing back int
o our world, not as a good spirit, but as an interfering one. It's happened before," she added. "My cousin Audrey so resisted entering the other world, she caused real stress and turmoil for my aunt Bella. Her son was driven to commit suicide," she added. "It was the only thing that satisfied Audrey. Only then did she rest in peace."

  Suicide? Birds of panic fluttered in my chest. Would that happen to me?

  She came farther into my room, reading my fear as if it was in big black-and-white letters on my forehead.

  "Yes. suicide. Don't you see? Don't you get it. Noble?" she asked with a cold smile. "Celeste wants you with her. Noble. You must drive her away, drive every thought of her away. Don't let her get close to you. Do you understand?"

  I nodded, so terrified. I could barely breathe.

  "I'm going through the house tomorrow and removing every item, no matter how small or insignificant it might seem, that relates to her, belonged to her. It was obviously not enough to get rid of those rag dolls. I want you to start digging another grave in the cemetery. Dig it behind Infant Jordan's. Right after breakfast, go out there and start."

  "Okay. Mommy," I said.

  "Good. good." She looked about the room with her eves small and intense, and then she stopped and charged forward, ripping a picture of Daddy and us off the wall. "Every picture of her, every image," she whispered and left with it snugly under her arm.

  I lay back, my heart thumping.

  Then I heard Celestes voice calling to me. I put my hands over my tars.

  "No!" I screamed. Mommy returned. "What is it?"

  "Her voice." I said. She smiled.

  "Good." she said. "That's good. Shut her out," she said, turned off the lights and closed the door.

  Silence was soothing. I closed my eyes and tried to think only Noble's thoughts, dream only his dreams. A trail of red ants marched across my eyes, and I counted them into sleep.

  Mommy was already at work when I awoke. I could hear her carrying things down from the turret. I hurriedly washed and dressed.

  "There's no time for breakfast," she told me when I descended the stairs. "Go out and start digging."

  I went to the barn to get the shovel, and then I went quickly to the cemetery. The sky was clouding over quickly, and some of the clouds rolling in from the east looked black and blue. The air was still but heavy. It made it more difficult to work. The ground in the old cemetery was like cement. too. Every few inches. I seemed to run into a rock that I had to dig out and pry away from the soil.

  It began to rain, slowly at first, just a slight drizzle, and then a more intense shower. Mommy came out and inspected my work.

  "You're going too slowly," she said. "Work faster, work harder."

  The rain began to pound around us, and the wind picked up and drove it over the farm in sheets that soaked me through my clothing, but Mommy didn't care. My hole in the around softened and the sides turned to mud, caving in with every spoonful I brought out. I felt like someone going in a circle.

  "We should wait for the rain to stop," I told her.

  "No," she said. "Work."

  The rain didn't let up for a moment now. I was so tired and so soaked. I began to lose my footing and slip with every thrust of my shovel. The wet earth was far heavier than before. so I couldn't dig as much or as fast. The ground continued to give way around the grave. There was even a small pool of water at the bottom.

  The futility of it all put a look of utter terror into Mommy. She spun about, searching for a new idea, and then finally, seeing me work without results, told me to stop. I was aching all over. so I didn't think much of the pains in my abdomen. We both headed back to the house, and on the porch, she had me take off my muddied and soaked clothing. I was shivering badly now. She told me to go in and upstairs before she undid the gauze around my breasts.

  In the hallway was the pile of items she had found that even in the slightest way related to Celeste. Of course, all of the clothing, every toy, but even birthday cards. drawings Daddy had loved and were once pinned to the refrigerator, every school lesson and test, pens, pencils she used, her toothbrush, hairbrush, and things that could have been anyone's, like soap, washcloths, even the rug that once was at the foot of her bed. Mommy was ridding the house of anything Celeste had touched!

  I stared, amazed, and then I heard her come in behind me and I started up the stairs. She followed me to my bathroom, and she began to undo the gauze, mumbling about the rain. Mud had literally seeped through my clothes and stained my skin. I was still dripping from my hair, short as it was.

  "You'll take a hot bath," she decided. "I don't need you getting sick on me right now. Now we need to --"

  She paused and stared at me, and then her face seemed to twist so hard to the right that it looked like it might slip off her skull. She brought her hands to her heart and pressed them against her chest. Her mouth moved, but nothing came out for a moment.

  I couldn't speak.

  I turned instead and looked into the full-length mirror against the inside of the bathroom door.

  A thin trickle of blood was crawling down the inside of my right thigh. The cramps in my stomach grew more intense as I looked at myself.

  I turned back to Mommy, white fear freezing my heart.

  She stepped forward, took my shoulders in her hands, and shook me hard as she brought her eyes to bear down into mine.

  "Celeste she said in a hoarse whisper. "you will go back. You will, None of this will make a difference," she concluded and then went to the medicine cabinet. She fashioned another gauze bandage, this one into a pad.

  "Think of this only as what it is, an injury, an injury Celeste has caused, and like any injury, we will mend it," she said.

  She made me take a shower instead of a bath, and then she fastened the new bandage between my leas and told me to rest. My stomach cramps grew worse. I moaned and cried. She brought me some tea made from pennyroyal, one of her herbs. It helped. My stomach stopped aching. She then put a twin of rosemary under my pillow, which she said would drive away evil spirits and illness, and soon I fell asleep. I was so tired from the digging that I slept most of the day.

  When I opened my eyes. I was surprised to find my bed surrounded by lit candles. Mommy sat beside me, waiting for my eyes to open.

  "Do not be afraid," she said. She took my hand and closed her eves. "Repeat after me," she told me and began. "Celeste, be gone." she chanted. "Go on, repeat it."

  We chanted.

  The candle flames flickered.

  The gray skies outside the window grew darker before they tore apart to let some light graze our house.

  "Celeste. be gone.'` Mommy said and I said until I felt her spirit leave me and Noble's return.

  It would be all right. I thought. It would, Mommy would not let go of my hand after all. She would not stop loving me.

  Later, after we had something to eat, we returned to the old cemetery, where she helped dig this time, and we were able to make the grave as wide and deep as she wanted. Then together we carried everything she had gathered out of the house and dropped it in the dark, muddied hole.

  We worked until dusk, and when it was over, we could see the stars begin to twinkle.

  Mommy put her arm around my shoulders.

  "Listen," she said. "Listen hard. Noble. Don't you hear them? Don't you?"

  "Yes." I said quickly, maybe too quickly. She turned and looked at me.

  "What are they saying?" she asked, her eyes full of hesitation, but also full of hope.

  I closed my own eyes to listen hard. Speak to me. I prayed.

  Speak to me. It wasn't just the wind. I heard words. Surely, I heard words.

  "Celeste, be gone," I replied. That was what I thought I heard. Was I right?

  When I opened my eyes. I saw she was smiling.

  "You do hear them," she said. "How wonderful. How long I have waited."

  She hugged me to her and held me tightly for a moment before kissing my forehead and caressing my cheek.

/>   "Now, my darling. I am sure it will all begin for you."

  With her arm still around my shoulders, we walked back to the house. where Daddy's spirit surely waited in his favorite chair.

  I might even see him. I thought, and envisioned him smiling up at me. How I wished I could run into his arms again. I would do anything for that.

  I would even bury Celeste a thousand times.

  11

  A Boy Next Door

  .

  As I grew older and my breasts matured even

  more. I took to unstrapping myself at night so I could be more comfortable. Mommy knew it, but said nothing as long as I was sure to strap myself down well enough every morning to flatten my breasts sufficiently, but it was getting more and more difficult to do that enough to please her. One morning she came into my room before I had woken and risen. She had an old corset she had trimmed. It was something that had belonged to one of our ancestors.

  "Sit up," she ordered, and then she fit it around me, keeping it so that the strings that tightened it were in front.

  "You can do this yourself every morning," she said. "Tighten it as you need to,"

  I was having some trouble breathing, so she loosened it a bit, but only a bit.

  Not a morning went by when she didn't inspect me the moment I descended the stairs. With her hovering over me, ready to pounce on any mistakes. I continued to treat my oncoming sexuality as others treated their illnesses. Mommy was suspicious about every look I had, every change in my temperament. If my face looked flushed, she would make me drink a herbal medication. She seemed to remember when I might be having some abdominal cramps. There was always one of her remedies waiting for me at the breakfast table.

  And then one day I think she decided that to compensate for the way my body was taking shape, curving and tightening, I should eat more. Weight could disguise it all.

  "There's nothing wrong with a boy being a little overweight," she would mutter as she slapped down another helping of buttery mashed potatoes or cut me another piece of her rich chocolate cake. My thighs did become bigger and my waist wider. I couldn't help not liking the way I was starting to look.