{"id":732,"date":"2011-01-18T08:53:58","date_gmt":"2011-01-18T13:53:58","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.old.caraghobrien.com\/book\/?p=732"},"modified":"2011-01-18T08:56:55","modified_gmt":"2011-01-18T13:56:55","slug":"the-potters-daughter-emily-at-twelve","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.caraghobrien.com\/book\/miscellaneous\/the-potters-daughter-emily-at-twelve\/","title":{"rendered":"The Potters’ Daughter: Emily at Twelve"},"content":{"rendered":"

This is a bit story about characters from the world of Birthmarked.\u00a0 I wrote this \u201cnew beginnings\u201d story in honor of Eve\u2019s Fan Garden<\/a>, which is celebrating its one year anniversary this week.\u00a0 I\u2019m also joining their live chat<\/a> on Thursday, January 20, at 8:30 EST if you\u2019d like to drop by.\u00a0 Happy Birthday, Eve\u2019s Fan Garden!<\/em><\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>As Emily braced her palm against the pottery wheel and started it spinning, her foot picked up the rhythm of pressure on the treadle to keep it going.\u00a0 Wet, mobile clay spun beneath her hands and she concentrated to keep it centered in a circular mound, small enough so that her thumbs met easily over it and the slickness smoothed in a supple form inside her fingers.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat are you doing working so late?\u201d Gaia asked.<\/p>\n

Emily kept her gaze on the spinning gray clay, but she heard Gaia coming in the door to her left and walking around the little studio, blocking light from one lamp after another as she moved.\u00a0 Gaia slunk down the wall to sit on the floor, just at the edge of Emily\u2019s peripheral vision.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll splatter you there,\u201d Emily said.<\/p>\n

Gaia moved her loafers.\u00a0 \u201cNo, you won\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n

The wheel made a steady hum.\u00a0 Emily pressed her thumb down in the middle of the clay and gradually worked the indentation outward toward the edge, where she pulled up a lip of clay to form a thick, small bowl.\u00a0 She grabbed a wet bit of sponge.\u00a0 Frowning, she leaned over to peer at the form at an angle while she smoothed outward from the center again, easing her wet sponge inside the spinning shape, applying equal pressure to the outside edge of the bowl as she firmly, delicately modified the shape.\u00a0 She lifted her hands away, watching the little bowl spin, and then finally took her foot off the treadle.\u00a0 The wheel spun slowly down to silence, and Emily wiped a strand of loose hair back off her forehead, not caring that she was smearing a trace of clay along her face, too.\u00a0 She was already filthy.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou okay?\u201d Gaia asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cI have five more of these to make tonight.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy aren\u2019t your parents making them?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThey worked all day,\u201d Emily said.\u00a0 \u201cMy dad had to use my wheel because his was broken, so now it\u2019s my turn.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTo do your share?\u201d Gaia asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou know how it is. Way too much work or not enough.\u00a0 We have to get it while we can or they\u2019ll go to another potter.\u201d\u00a0 Emily reached her arms over her head to stretch.\u00a0 \u201cI can\u2019t talk long.\u201d\u00a0 She looked at Gaia closely for the first time, noting both the tired slump of her shoulders and the radiance in her expression.\u00a0 \u201cWere you delivering a baby with your mom?\u201d<\/p>\n

Gaia nodded.\u00a0 \u201cIt was great.\u00a0 A little girl.\u201d\u00a0 She smiled, hugging herself.\u00a0 \u201cIt\u2019s just the most amazing thing.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cShe was so little!\u00a0 Right here in my hands,\u201d Gaia said, holding them up reverently as if she could still feel the invisible infant there.<\/p>\n

Emily reached for a wire to slide under the bowl to cut it from the wheel.\u00a0 \u201cYou\u2019re lucky you like your work. \u00a0Bring me that board, will you?\u201d<\/p>\n

Gaia stood to reach for it and passed it over.\u00a0 Emily gingerly lifted the bowl onto the board where it would dry and harden.<\/p>\n

\u201cLook at how pretty that is,\u201d Gaia said.\u00a0 \u201cI could never make that in a million years and you just tossed it off.\u201d<\/p>\n

Emily could see nothing graceful about what she\u2019d just made.\u00a0 Competent work that would satisfy her mother; that\u2019s all it was. \u201cIt\u2019s passable.\u201d<\/p>\n

Gaia laughed, and then her smile faded.\u00a0 \u201cYou\u2019re serious.\u00a0 Look, if you don\u2019t like working as a potter, why don\u2019t you tell your parents?\u201d<\/p>\n

Emily cleared off the wheel and reached for another block of clay that she\u2019d pounded for air bubbles, and gave it a couple more smacks before she settled in the center of the wheel and wet it down.<\/p>\n

\u201cEmily,\u201d Gaia said, \u201cdon\u2019t ignore me.\u201d\u00a0 She was sitting on the floor again and she gave a little wave.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m not ignoring you. This is the only thing I know how to do.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s not an answer.\u00a0 If you don\u2019t want to be a potter, don\u2019t be a potter.\u201d<\/p>\n

Emily started the wheel again, and the awkward, lumpy clay jerked under her hands, resistant and stubborn.\u00a0 She made her hands strong and forced the clay to yield until it gradually morphed into a small, symmetrical mound that spun evenly.\u00a0 The basic, pre-bowl shape.\u00a0 She could close her eyes and feel it in her sleep.<\/p>\n

\u201cI mean it, Emily,\u201d Gaia said over the noise of the spinning.\u00a0 \u201cYou could quit this.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re making it worse,\u201d Emily said.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m not.\u00a0 Would you just listen to me?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTomorrow.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, now.\u00a0 Now, when you\u2019re miserable.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m not miserable,\u201d Emily said.<\/p>\n

Gaia laughed, and Emily released the clay to look across at her.\u00a0 Sometimes she hated the way Gaia could see right through her and laugh at the same time.<\/p>\n

\u201cOkay.\u00a0 I may be miserable,\u201d Emily admitted.\u00a0 \u201cBut there are worse things than being miserable, and I don\u2019t need you coming in here telling me I have choices, because I don\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, you do.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLike what?\u00a0 Tell me, genius.\u00a0 What else could I do?\u201d<\/p>\n

Gaia shrugged.\u00a0 \u201cYou could be a midwife like me, or a weaver, or a teacher, or own a restaurant or a store or anything.\u00a0 You\u2019d be a great teacher, actually.\u00a0 You\u2019re super smart and patient.\u201d<\/p>\n

Emily scoffed out a laugh and kept her foot going on the treadle of the wheel so the clay spun before her.\u00a0 \u201cA teacher.\u00a0 We don\u2019t even have any schools in Wharfton.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou could change that.\u201d<\/p>\n

Emily laughed again.\u00a0 \u201cI can\u2019t read.\u00a0 Remember?\u00a0 Do you know any teachers who can\u2019t read?\u201d<\/p>\n

Gaia came to her feet again.\u00a0 \u201cI\u2019ll teach you.\u201d<\/p>\n

Emily reached for her sponge and dipped it the water.\u00a0 \u201cWe tried that once before, remember?\u00a0 That stupid silent \u2018e\u2019 thing?\u00a0 No, thanks.\u201d<\/p>\n

Gaia came nearer, crowding Emily\u2019s light.\u00a0 \u201cWe\u2019re older now.\u00a0 I hardly knew how to read myself back then, but now I do.\u00a0 At least look at me.\u201d<\/p>\n

Emily bit inward on her lips and kept her focus on the spinning clay, but as Gaia continued to stand there, waiting, and Emily contemplated making more bowls like the last one every day for the rest of her life, she allowed herself to look up.\u00a0 Gaia\u2019s kind, challenging expression was almost more than she could stand.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, Em,\u201d Gaia said quietly.<\/p>\n

\u201cCould you really teach me?\u201d<\/p>\n

Gaia nodded.\u00a0 \u201cOf course.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou won\u2019t make me feel stupid?\u201d<\/p>\n

Gaia leaned nearer and set her clean hand on Emily\u2019s slick, dirty one.\u00a0 Emily took her foot off the pedal and let the wheel spin down to motionlessness again, and the little studio had never been so quiet.<\/p>\n

\u201cWatch,\u201d Gaia said.\u00a0 \u201cIt\u2019s just putting together sounds.\u201d Slowly, carefully, guiding Emily\u2019s own finger to make the marks, Gaia drew a word in the muddy clay that covered the outer surface of the wheel in a gray film.\u00a0 \u201cThis is a \u2018Y.\u2019\u00a0 It sounds like \u2018y-y-yellow,\u2019\u201d Gaia said.\u00a0 \u201cAnd this is \u2018E,\u2019 which is the start of \u2018Emily.\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI know that one,\u201d Emily said.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd this one\u2019s \u2018S,\u2019\u201d Gaia said, still guiding Emily\u2019s finger.\u00a0 \u201cIt\u2019s the snake letter, making the \u2018s-s-s\u2019 sound.\u00a0 Put the three letters together, and you get an entire word you know.\u201d<\/p>\n

Emily pulled her hand free to trace the letters again herself, sounding them out softly.\u00a0 When comprehension came, she couldn\u2019t say it.\u00a0 She could only think it, deep in the loneliness of her own heart: yes<\/em>.<\/p>\n

She didn\u2019t want to move.\u00a0 She didn\u2019t know what to say.\u00a0 She should have been grateful to Gaia, but somehow she felt enraged.\u00a0 Reading was so simple.\u00a0 Why hadn\u2019t her parents let her learn?\u00a0 Many, many times Gaia\u2019s parents had offered to teach Emily along with Gaia, and every single time Emily\u2019s parents had declined, too proud to be in their debt.\u00a0 Worst of all, they\u2019d also taught Emily to be too proud.<\/p>\n

Now she moved her hands to the pile of clay on her wheel and slowly gripped her hands into it, ruining her work.\u00a0 She wanted to throw it, to smash everything around her, but instead she slumped backwards on her stool and hid her face in her messy hands.\u00a0 All she could see was clay, all she could smell was wet clay on her hands.\u00a0 She closed her eyes tight.<\/p>\n

Then she felt her friend\u2019s arms go around her and this girl, this neighbor girl that Emily had once secretly pitied for being so ugly and friendless, now seemed more powerful than any other person on Earth.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s okay,\u201d Gaia said.<\/p>\n

Emily held onto her.\u00a0 There was really nothing else she could do.\u00a0 \u201cI\u2019ve tried so hard,\u201d Emily said.<\/p>\n

\u201cI know.\u00a0 You\u2019re such a good person. \u00a0You work so hard. \u00a0This won\u2019t change that.\u00a0 We won\u2019t tell your parents until you really can read, okay?\u00a0 Whole books.\u201d Gaia let go of her to peer at her, still visibly worried, and Emily nodded, wiping at her face with the corner of her smock.<\/p>\n

Whole books, she thought.\u00a0 It hardly seemed possible, and at the same time she felt both famished and exhausted.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019ve got clay all over you now,\u201d Emily said.<\/p>\n

Gaia gave a crooked smile.\u00a0 \u201cSo?\u201d<\/p>\n

Emily laughed.\u00a0 \u201cI still have five bowls to make,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

\u201cRight.\u00a0 I\u2019ll go.\u00a0 But you won\u2019t change your mind?\u00a0 I\u2019ll see you tomorrow?\u201d<\/p>\n

Emily was already scraping the destroyed clay off the wheel so she could start fresh with a new pile.\u00a0 For an instant she was afraid to smear away the word she\u2019d learned, but then she realized she knew it.\u00a0 For good.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes,\u201d Emily said.\u00a0 \u201cGood night.\u201d<\/p>\n

She started up the wheel again as Gaia slipped out the door.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

This is a bit story about characters from the world of Birthmarked.\u00a0 I wrote this \u201cnew beginnings\u201d story in honor of Eve\u2019s Fan Garden, which is celebrating its one year anniversary this week.\u00a0 I\u2019m also joining their live chat on Thursday, January 20, at 8:30 EST if you\u2019d like to drop by.\u00a0 Happy Birthday, Eve\u2019s […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[5],"tags":[29,11],"class_list":["post-732","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-miscellaneous","tag-gaia","tag-tie-in-stories"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.caraghobrien.com\/book\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/732","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.caraghobrien.com\/book\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.caraghobrien.com\/book\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.caraghobrien.com\/book\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.caraghobrien.com\/book\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=732"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/www.caraghobrien.com\/book\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/732\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":735,"href":"https:\/\/www.caraghobrien.com\/book\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/732\/revisions\/735"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.caraghobrien.com\/book\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=732"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.caraghobrien.com\/book\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=732"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.caraghobrien.com\/book\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=732"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}