0
0
Introduction
This specific journal is one I just happened across. Apparently, the writer had a bunch of loosely bound journals that his family kept around until they were later donated to the town’s archive. Luckily this town keeps really good records online so I was able to read it.
The writer of this journal is named Dorian. We don’t have a last name for him.
I’m excited to share the story he witnessed with you.
Content Warnings
- Mentions of death (of child)
- Mentions of depression/depressive episode
- Depiction of grief
- Drinking
- Period typical sexism (background)
Dorian’s Journal
June 28th
I believe I witnessed the beginning of another love story today. Well, it’s probably much too soon to say that, but I saw Tace smile. Tace never smiles! She’s always so grumpy in her spot at the bar. I assume she enjoys my company some since she sits at the bar every night, but I’ve never managed to get a smile out of her.
Even when she (on rare occasions) has laughed at my jokes, her lips have barely curled. I know she told me her favorite song is “Lavender’s Blue,” but when the bar rang out with a rendition of it, she merely hummed along, lips straight as an arrow.
Clarissa must be something special. This woman, all bangs and bust, came in. She must not be a working girl like Tace because her hair was down around her shoulders. It bounced as she walked in. I think Tace might have been focusing on some other things that were bouncing though.
She sat down right next to Tace at the bar. I’ve never seen anyone sit there. Tace likes her personal space and, quite honestly, smells. Working with metal all day means she winds up smelling like tangy metal and soot.
Must not have bothered Clarissa, though. She sits down next to Tace and asks what she’s drinking.
Tace just looked at the lady and said, “What’s it to you?”
“Well, I’m new, and I want to know what’s good,” Clarissa replied.
So Tace told her to order my house beer, and Clarissa did. As I grabbed her a bottle, I heard her start rambling to Tace. She told her how she’d had such a hard day going around the town trying to find the courthouse. Tace asked her why she hadn’t asked for directions. Clarissa sighed at this and said, with all sorts of drama and flair, “Well, don’t you think I thought of that! Doesn’t matter who gives them. I can never follow them.”
Apparently, this Clarissa is so lost in her own mind she can’t keep along a straight path for more than a few paces before she forgets where she’s going. So she keeps telling us this story. Well more telling Tace than me. She tells her about all the people she met and all the weird looks she got. Funny how a girl who can’t remember where she’s going seems to know everyone she met along the way.
When I returned to them after handing a bottle to another regular at the other side of the bar, I saw it. As Clarissa’s hands waved around the table, Tace’s lips curled upward into a smile. Clarissa continued her rant, finally arriving at the courthouse and apparently getting lost in there as well. She was completely unaware of the miracle she’d just made happen in my bar. I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.
Tace was still smiling when Clarissa got to the end of her story, which concluded with her filing forms to change her address to our little town. The lovely lady let out a sigh, took a sip of her beer, and asked Tace, “So, how was your day?” As if they’d been friends for years.
Tace, her face still in a grin, let out a short laugh. Tace told her about her day (It was much the same as it always is), and Clarissa listened intently, asking questions and commenting where appropriate. The whole time the smile never left Tace’s face. I don’t know how that girl did it, but she made Tace happy, genuinely happy.
Clarissa left while I was over helping another customer, so I don’t know what she said, but she left a bit of a smile on Tace’s face. I raised my eyebrow at Tace, who went right back to scowling. I knew pushing her would only make me less likely to ever know what was going on, so I dropped it.
God, am I glad Clarissa is staying in town. That was very entertaining.
July 2nd
Clarissa came in again today. I like this lady in her own right, I’ve decided. She got here before Tace and was very lovely. She ordered a beer again and sat quietly while I dealt with other customers. Once I showed her some attention and asked about her day, she gave me quite the story. She’d had breakfast this morning with several other women of the town. All was well, and their morning was going well until the neighbor’s dog ran through the room. This alone may not have disrupted them, but it stuck its snout up the skirt of one of the women. I received a play-by-play of every woman’s reaction as they resolved this issue and returned to their lunch.
Clarissa knows how to spin a tale. I never know if people’s stories are true when they’re willing to tell them to the bartender, but Clarissa made me want to believe hers. And when she was done, she made me want to tell her about my day. She didn’t just ask; she listened. For someone who so loves to talk, she’s got a damn good ear. She kept looking up at me while we talked.
Her eyebrows wiggled with reactions even when she had her drink to her lips.
Just as I was wrapping up my tale, Tace arrived. She was in a right foul mood. She slammed my door shut and stomped her way over to her seat. When she first arrived, Clarissa was sitting two seats away from her. Once Tace sat down, Clarissa scooted closer.
Clarissa started talking right away, but it was gentler than normal. She asked, “Can I ask you what’s wrong? Or do you just want to drink first?”
Tace rolled her eyes and said, “At least let me get one beer in me, woman.” Her words were sharp, but I swear I saw the hint of a smile on her face.
Clarissa must have seen that smile, too, because she sat back and sipped her beer quietly while Tace drank hers down. The moment Tace put the drink down, Clarissa started talking again. She blurts out, “So what’s got you so wrapped around your own post?”
Tace scowled again, but there wasn’t much bite in it, I don’t think. She gave a glare but started to tell Clarissa about her day. She was mostly just upset because she’d had to work with another blacksmith today. She hates to do that. She hates the way they talk to her. She says all the men think they know better than her. I suppose I probably would, too, if I was them. Not many women know what they’re doing in metalwork. Gets Tace really huffy, though.
Clarissa, just as she did with me, listened intently to Tace’s tale. And when Tace was done and had ordered her second beer Clarissa put a hand on her knee! Clarissa touched Tace in a friendly way, and Tace didn’t threaten to brand the woman! Tace just glanced at her knee, then at Clarissa, and raised an eyebrow.
Tace said, “Clarissa, you know I’m not just some boy who’ll fall for your charms ’cause you’ve got lovely hair?”
Clarissa giggled and said, “Tace, if you were a boy, I wouldn’t be interested.”
This seemed to satisfy Tace, who let the hand rest where it was as she started in on her second beer.
They kept up like this for some time. Back and forth until it seemed Tace’s sharp mood was dulled down. Clarissa’s hands kept drifting to leave gentle touches on Tace. I don’t know what they were
talking about because I was on the other side of the bar helping someone else out, but every now and then, they’d both start laughing, and I couldn’t help but smile no matter what else I was doing. Tace has been the grumpiest person I have known for so long, and with a life like hers, she deserves a smile.
August 6th
I am convinced that Tace is making a necklace for Clarissa. My evidence is:
- Tace was fiddling with wire today, wrapping it around a pretty stone
- Tace knows how to make really good jewelry which she sells to the local store since few women travel into her Smithy (Though I have heard rumor that Clarissa has begun to spend time there nearly every day).
- Tace scowled when I asked what she was making and told me it was a gift.
- When I asked who it was for, she said it was for someone special. Everyone in town knows the only woman here who Tace bothers to socialize with is Clarissa. The only other people she’ll talk to are me and some of the other old men at the bar.
Therefore the only conclusion I can come to is that Tace is making a necklace for Clarissa. I think Clarissa will like the stone she has chosen. I don’t know much about pretty rocks, but the ring glinted just a little in the dim candlelight of my bar. When Clarissa wears it around town, I bet it’ll glisten and gleam. What a sight she’ll be. A sight, I’m sure
Tace will appreciate. I suppose that might be the point. Clarissa gets a necklace, and Tace gets a new excuse to look at Clarissa.
August 11th
Tace and Clarissa sure stirred the pot of gossip tonight. I didn’t even know Tace knew how to wash her clothes. She had her hair behind her shoulders, and her outfit looked nice. She didn’t sit at her normal spot at the bar. Instead, she found an empty table and sat there. I walked over to her and asked her what she was doing over there. She said she was meeting a friend for dinner. About then is when I noticed the tin on the table. It was clearly a handcrafted tin. There was a small metal flower adorning the top.
Tace caught me staring and told me to knock it off. She said she’d wait to order dinner until her date arrived. I was shocked to hear she was on a date. She rolled her eyes rudely at me and told me it wasn’t that kind of date. Tace insists she will never date a man.
I was going to ask her another question, but her hand shot up to quiet me. I followed her gaze and saw Clarissa.
She was dressed as if she owned all the land in town. Her dress was long, yet the dirt along the ground had not dirtied it on the walk here. In the summer’s heat, her dress had short sleeves, barely enough to cover her shoulders.
It was gold like the sunrise. Rows of hues adorning a woman who I knew made her own clothes.
I’ve never been one to stare at a woman. This is not true of Tace, and when I glanced back at her, I found her eyes hadn’t strayed from Clarissa. Her mouth was slightly open, and her pupils were wide.
I decided I should probably let them be.
I brought them the food they ordered shortly after that and kept my eye on them as they sat and talked all evening. Tace sat forward, her chin in her hand, while Clarissa regaled her with tales of the drama of the day. Clarissa, who it seems is unaware of how to sit still, moved forward and back with intrigue, her hands flitting about herself wherever emphasis was needed. After the meal was finished, Tace pushed the tin toward Clarissa. She opened it with gleeful expectation and found the necklace Tace had made for her.
I watched from behind the bar as Clarissa grew still and gentle. She set her hand on Tace’s upon the table and said something softly to her. Their conversation seemed gentle for a time. I forgot the pair were seated there until I heard the gentle chime of Clarissa’s laughter.
Throughout the night, they grew in volume again. Their conversation never stalled as other tables were fed and cleared and fed again.
When the end of the night came, they left their seats together, bid me farewell, and made their way out of the bar. Clarissa was wearing her new necklace, and though they were not holding each other’s hands, their fingers brushed aside each other with every step.
September 1st
I do not expect many things from Clarissa. She is a woman who can keep me on my toes. And I can say for certain I did not expect to learn that she is married. Her husband lives some ways away and pays for her to live here.
I suppose it is a sorrowful marriage. Or at least not a happy one if she lives so far from him and only speaks of him when drunk. And she was quite drunk. She said he never permitted her to drink, though he drank himself. She said he would not approve of much of her social life. I left the conversation after that. I did not want to hear what her husband would think of her relationship with Tace.
Oh, Tace. I will have to tell her tomorrow. I cannot keep her from knowing, and she deserves to know. Clarissa is so close to Tace. Perhaps she has already revealed this part of herself. Yes. That is likely. She has likely already told Tace she has a husband. Her romantic entanglements are not my affair.
I shall do what I can to think nothing of it until I see Tace again. I shall ask her what she knows about Clarissa’s husband. That is all I can do. It does no good to speculate.
September 2nd
I asked Tace about Clarissa’s husband this morning. It was quite awkward. It was clear immediately that she was not aware of this situation beforehand. Rather than be upset about it, Tace seemed to show no interest in the information. Well, she pretended not to be interested. I could tell it bothered her, though. Tace has warmed some in the past few months, and I saw none of that warmth today. She didn’t speak much to me except to request refills on her drink. She drank more than normal as well. Whenever I would glance over at her from across the room, her shoulders were slumped over, as if she was about to fold herself onto the bar.
She stayed long enough to drink 4 beers and then left. I tried to have another word with her before she walked away, but she either ignored me or didn’t hear me.
Clarissa came in shortly after she left.
I asked Clarissa if she had seen Tace when she walked in.
She said she had but that Tace didn’t respond to her greeting. She seemed confused.
After some prodding, I realized Clarissa had forgotten she had made it known to the bar last night that she has a husband.
When I reminded her of this, she dropped her head until it hit the table. She moaned, “Why did I bring up that man? I had escaped him. Why would I bring him up here?”
I brought her a beer, and she told me her story.
As it turns out, Clarissa was originally from Petersburg, a little way north of here. Her father owned land and farmed. She had three older brothers, all of whom married pretty women. When she came of age, her father and mother began to find a man for her to marry. Despite her knowledge of the town’s gossip, she had never heard of David Edwardson.
David Edwardson, the son of a wealthier landowner from several towns away, was cordial and respectful toward Clarissa’s father. They courted for three weeks before a deal was made between the men, and Clarissa was engaged to David. She had met him twice by this point, and he had been rather flat. She claims the first time they met he said no more than 25 words to her. The second time they met, he only spoke to the other people in the room and paid her nearly no mind.
Throughout their engagement, she saw little of him. It seemed to her he had no more interest in being her husband than she did in being his wife. The distance between their homes was crossed frequently by traders, so they could send a few letters back and forth. She said her letters were long and full of information about her life, her interests, and questions she hoped he would answer. His letters contained short answers to her questions. Often only a few words, even for her more detailed questions. Not one of his responses took up a full page of the paper.
Things didn’t improve for her once they were wed. She, by her own account, was driven to near insanity by his boring tone. He had enough fortune that he did not need to work on the land himself. Despite his free time, he held no social events. He would rarely permit her to attend events out of the home, either. Her days were spent alone at home, with only her dull husband and her sewing to entertain her. She read as many books as she could get her hands on in the early days of their marriage, learning to read in an attempt to escape her dull existence.
Until her children. Her first son was born 3 years into the marriage, and they had 2
more shortly after. They occupied every aspect of her life for the better part of two decades. David would allow her on social excursions if they were made under the guise of his- son’s well-being. She was pacified while her sons were young. According to Clarissa, life was good for about two decades, even if her marriage was still more cordial than any friendship.
Two years ago, shortly after her 50th birthday, Clarissa buried her youngest son.
He was 23, and he was her world. Her older boys had moved away to live with their wives. Clarissa became distraught with grief. I remember how she described this time.
She said, “For a year afterward, I locked myself away and tore down relationships with my other sons. I couldn’t bear to love them when I could no longer love them all. My life was back to myself and my husband. My son’s never visited, and I didn’t blame them. I became as terrible of a mother as David was a husband.
“For the past year, I’ve been begging David to buy me a house in a new town. I needed to reset. 2 months ago he gave in.”
I knew the rest of the story. She’d moved into our town and met Tace the same day. She’s started fresh.
By the time Clarissa was done telling me her tale, I had other patrons to tend to. I kept coming back to her throughout the night, though. I told her I was sorry for her loss. I told her I was glad she’d found our town because I enjoyed her company. I told her she was fun to talk to. I asked if she thought her husband would make her come back home. She shrugged at that. I asked why she hadn’t told us about him. She shrugged at that too. I think she was done talking for the night.
Clarissa, as I know her, is a good listener and a great storyteller. She’ll talk to anyone who sits down next to her and listen to their tales.
She left early tonight and settled her tab. She told me she didn’t want to get drunk again.
September 6th
I haven’t seen Clarissa in several days, but Tace came in and sat at the bar today. She was grumpy as ever. Well, as grumpy as she is when Clarissa isn’t around.
I wasn’t brave, but the man next to her was. I think it was Peter who asked her how she was. When she grunted, he pushed on and said, “I heard Clarissa is married. Wouldn’t have guessed that.”
I was cleaning a glass nearby, and I froze. I could hardly breathe when I saw the glare she fixed him with. Her dark brown eyes clouded with rage, and her already grumpy demeanor stilled into a rock wall of anger.
She growled, “Why would I care about the fact that she’s married?”
Peter cowered back some and took another sip of his drink. He murmured something, but I didn’t catch what it was. Tace fixed him with another glare, then turned forward again. She kept her eyes away from Peter. I accidentally caught them with my own for a moment. She narrowed them at me. I looked away and didn’t naively inquire about Clarissa.
Tace didn’t speak to anyone for the rest of the night.
September 14th
Tace was at the bar again today. I haven’t written it down, but she’s started coming in daily again. I think upon her visit last week she realized Clarissa isn’t coming around anymore and decided to start up her old routine. Well, that worked fine for her for a few days, but Clarissa must have heard she had a routine again because she also stopped by this afternoon.
I got a little nervous when I saw her walk in the door. I’d heard from Sal that they’d shouted at each other when this first began. It took the gossip a bit to travel, but apparently, after I told Tace that Clarissa had a husband, the two had gotten quite loud about it near Tace’s shop. I didn’t want any screaming here, not before dinner was done being served.
I finished up the beer I was serving at one end of the bar and walked to the other, where Tace was sitting. I planned to send them outside if things began to get confrontational.
Clarissa walked right up to Tace. The latter didn’t notice until she was right
beside her. Clarissa made no move to sit down. She simply waited until she had Tace’s attention and said, “I know you’re upset with me, but I thought you’d want to know I’m heading home.”
Tace scoffed and said, “Why would I care what you’re up to today?”
Clarissa sighed and said, “Not that home. I’m headed back to live with David.”
Now, this caught Tace’s attention, and she put down her beer. “When? Why are you doing that?” She asked with urgency.
“Tomorrow. He wrote to me. His mother is ill. He says it is my duty as his wife to be beside him during this,” Clarissa explained. She closed her eyes while she said this. Before that, I’d struggled to imagine what she had been like when she was locked up in his house. Now I think I have a clue. There was no emotion on her face. It was relaxed save for her lower lip which she pulled into her mouth to keep it from trembling.
When she opened her eyes after a moment of silence, she saw Tace in front of her. I don’t know what Tace was thinking. She’s always been harder to read. Clarissa wears her heart on her sleeve; Tace buries hers much deeper. Tace’s eyes flitted over Clarissa’s face.
After such a pause, I expected Tace to ask her to stay or to bid her farewell. She did not. All she said was, “Okay,” before turning back to the counter.
Clarissa stared for a moment at Tace’s shoulder. Her face betrayed her confusion as several emotions passed over her face. She softly said, “Goodbye,” and left the pub.
The door shut behind her.
Tace’s shoulders sagged.
I probably ought not to have gotten involved. I don’t like to tell people’s secrets. I let the gossip come in, but I try not to spread it around. I made an exception today.
I leaned on the counter in front of Tace and told her, “Clarissa doesn’t love him. She never did.”
Tace scoffed but didn’t look up at me as she said, “I don’t care about him. She’s married. She didn’t tell me that.”
“Have you asked her why?” I asked.
“Doesn’t matter,” She muttered, taking another sip of beer, “What do you care anyway.”
“I care about you, Tace,” I told her. And I do. I wasn’t lying.
I’ve known Tace since we were kids. We were never close friends, but you don’t spend your whole life noticing someone without wanting them to be happy.
“Ask her why,” I told Tace, “Go find her and ask her why. Before she leaves and doesn’t come back.”
This got Tace’s attention, “You don’t think she’ll come back?”
I shrugged, “I don’t know if her husband will let her.”
“He let her come here in the first place,” Tace argued.
I nodded, “He did. But that took a lot. I bet it’d take a lot for her to be let away from him again.”
“What do you mean,” She asked. Apparently, what I had to say actually did matter to Tace. Or maybe Clarissa just did.
“I can’t tell you that, Tace. Clarissa told me about him and about their marriage, but I don’t feel comfortable spreading that. That’s her story.”
Tace nodded, even as she grumbled about it. She knew my stance on gossip.
I let her sit and stew for a minute until someone down the bar asked for a refill. Then I told her, “Go talk to Clarissa, ask her why before she leaves, or you might never know,” and walked away.
I kept Tace in the corner of my eye and refilled her drink when she needed it. She stayed until the tavern got busy. She left sometime during the rush of people. I lost sight of her while I took the order for Frankie and Kellie at the corner table. When I glanced back up, she’d left. I don’t know where she went.
September 15
Clarissa hasn’t left town yet, and I now doubt she will.
She and Tace came in together. They were holding hands! The pair of them walked over to the bar and sat down. Tace sat in her normal seat, and Clarissa sat beside her. When I walked up, Clarissa gave me her brilliant smile. She ordered a beer for herself and for Tace. Tace rolled her eyes at being ordered for but didn’t say anything.
I served them their drinks and went to bring food to Joseph and his wife. By the time I returned to the bar, Clarissa was in the midst of a story. It wasn’t as bright and loud as it had been in the past. I admit I eavesdropped some while I poured another fellow a drink. I couldn’t hear much, as Clarissa’s voice was softer than normal, but I think it was about her son.
Tace listened intently. Her eyebrows knit together as she took in every word Clarissa was saying and tried to figure out what she wasn’t saying.
One time when I glanced over, there was a tear rolling down Clarissa’s face. I looked away, not wanting to intrude on their moment, but not before I saw Tace reach up and brush the tear away.
Only a few minutes after that, I passed by and saw them leaning gently toward each other, their foreheads almost touching. Clarissa appeared to be crying, and Tace was trying to comfort her. Tace had one hand resting on Clarissa’s arm and the other on her cheek. Words passed the inches between their faces.
They stayed until the end of the night, slowly drinking beer and perking up. By the time I closed, Clarissa, with a slight pink to her cheeks, was joyful and vibrant again. She was telling a story about an old neighbor’s cat with bursts of energy and large gestures. Tace watched and listened, smiling and nodding along.
It wasn’t like before, though. When Tace used to listen, she would pretend to be annoyed. It had been as though she had thought if she showed too much interest, Clarissa would fly away to find someone else to impress.
There is something more settled between them now.
Outroduction
Thank you for reading! I’ve found some other queer stories amongst the old records I look through online. I’ll try to post them regularly, so if you want to see more LGBTQ+ people existing, feel free to follow me!
Chrys
