Part 17: Lessons from the past

"Well hello there my little maiden. And what is your name?" said the old woman looking down at me. She looked like a cartoon character. A round woman with gray hair in a tight bun. Half moon glasses attached to her neck by a pearl chain. Her home was clean but cluttered with knick knacks from her many years and travels. The shades were drawn tight only allowing small shafts of light to illuminate the residence. If one looked closer they would see the eyes of the many cats roaming in the shadows. I was terrified. My parents said she would be giving me lessons. Lessons that would make the "special powers" go away. They told me time and again I wasn't bad for having them but as a little girl I needed to learn to hide them until I grew up. And most importantly, Nonna could never know. Never.

"Mandy" I said looking up with big eyes. She hugged me. She smelled of rose perfume.

"Come sit with me little maiden. Let me look into you." She led me to a fat chair with a plastic cover. She sat her large behind in a folding chair in front of me. She adjusted her glasses and then her large backside and placed her fat hands on my face and pawed me for a minute or two. "Oh I see, I see. Yes, very powerful, indeed. From inside, deep inside, your power comes forth. You did not ask for this. I can see that. You are afraid. I understand little maiden. Mother Mental is here for you. Mother Mental will help." I opened my eyes feeling a little woozy and saw her smiling at me.

"I have one question to ask you my little maiden. Do you want me to teach you to turn these things off?"
I nodded.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, ma'am."

She looked at my parents and began to speak in soft tones. Funny how adults think that children don't understand what they are saying sometimes. But I was a smart little girl and knew exactly what they were saying. She agreed to do it not because I should be ashamed of my abilities but because they may be too dangerous for a little girl. She could not erase them since they seemed to be anatomic in nature and not magicly placed.. Some day I would have to choose to continue turning them off or let them out. It was going to be hard and at times I wouldn't like her because it would require discipline that most 10 year olds don't have. My parents weren't allowed to sit in the sessions, because she was going to be hard at times and they may not be able to stand it. Every Wednesday after school. 5 o'clock. I could never be late. Each session was over when it was over. No exceptions. If I worked hard it would be over early if I slacked off I could be there all night.
She then looked at me and asked, "Maiden, can you do that? Will you work hard for me?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good!" she smiled and hugged me suffocating me with her ample cleavage. "My little maiden. Mother Mental is going to love working with you." She then turned to my parents. "Good seeing you two again. She'll be fine. See you next week."

She could be a stern taskmaster one minute but tender at the drop of a hat. I was expected to be on time and prepared for each lesson. Backtalk was prohibited. Home assignments were tough and mandatory. If I did not behave or became bored with the session she would yell, but if I was good she loved on me like her own child. The first year was nothing more than lessons on concentration. No mention of powers, just learning how to concentrate. Flashcards, tests, and homework. I was going to school twice! But after every session she treated me to pumpkin cookies with chocolate chips. They were wonderful.

The next few years were going to be hard on my family and Mother Mental was the only steady presence in my life. The death of my father's older brother and his family which lead to Nonna's seclusion from us and complete breakdown in her relationship with my mother. (Two of her three sons now dead) My mothers downward spiral into depression that eventually led to her suicide when I was twelve. My fathers growing absence as he was forced to take over the family empire and him eventually leaving me when I was sixteen with the St. John-Smythes. Mother Mental was always there.

The first assignment she gave me was to write her about the prettiest thing in the world (the pink sand and blue-green water on the beaches of Bermuda) to me. It would be an image I would use for my training to help with concentration. I signed it, "Amanda Bryce Cambridge, your little Maden" a silly little ten year old's spelling error she never pointed out.

"We're here. Mandy? Are you ok?" Frank said as the cab came to a hault in front of the beach house. The Bermuda air was crisp but still tropical. I had taken Noire's advice.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Was just thinking."

"What about?"

"The beach."