This Broken Wondrous World Read Free

But clearly the Frankensteins were into it.
    The dining room table was set with a cream-colored tablecloth and cloth napkins. I was pretty sure the silverware was actually silver and glasses were real glass. Maybe even crystal. The overhead chandelier was dim and there were several candles lit. William sat at the head of the table and Elisa at the foot, while Giselle and I faced each other on either side. Giselle looked utterly bored. As I sat down I gave her a quick, rueful grin, but she just stared back blankly at me. I guess she didn’t get the weird formality of all this. And why would she? She probably grew up with it.
    When we sat down at the table, there were no plates. I wondered if we were all going to get up and go fill our own plates at some point? Maybe after a prayer? Did the Frankensteins pray? But then a woman I didn’t recognize came in with platters and I realized that when Elisa said she was going to “see about supper,” she didn’t mean pop something in the microwave. Shemeant check in on the cook.
    We sat and ate these beautiful, juicy steaks that had been done just right. But I hardly noticed the flavor because I was more focused on trying to remember all the table manners Sophie had drilled into me before I left New York. I could almost hear her bright English accent in my head.
Elbows off the table. Napkin on the lap. Put the knife down when you’re not using it. Elbows off. Don’t reach across the table. Don’t use your hands. Elbows. Both feet on the floor. Bloody hell, keep those elbows off!
At first it felt nice, remembering those coaching sessions. Almost like she was there with me. But she wasn’t. She was in LA now, and I didn’t know when I’d get to see her again. Maybe Christmas if she could make it out to New York. If she hadn’t forgotten about me . . .
    The homesickness suddenly crashed down on me hard. I looked around at these very nice people—these very nice
humans
—and I felt like I was in a room all alone with just the quiet clink of silverware on china plates.
    â€œWell, how are you settling in?” asked Elisa.
    â€œIt’s a really nice room,” I said. “I can’t get over how awesome that view is. Maybe because I grew up in an apartment without windows.”
    Elisa and William glanced at each other.
    â€œWait until you see a storm rolling in across the lake!” William dabbed at the corner of his mouth with his napkin. “Truly something to behold. Whenever I am home, I always rush out to watch.”
    â€œHe is crazy about those storms.” Elisa rolled her eyes. “He comes back every time grinning ear to ear and completely drenched.”
    â€œWhat can I say?” William took a sip of his wine. “I am anadmirer of nature!”
    â€œIt’s funny,” I said. “I thought I saw someone out in the lake right at sunset.”
    â€œAt sunset this late in the season?” William looked doubtful. “It would be very cold.”
    â€œIt was probably a rock or something,” I said quickly.
    â€œIt was the mermaid,” said Giselle.
    â€œMermaid?” I asked.
    â€œOh, Giselle!” said Elisa. “How many times must we have this conversation? You are far too old to believe in such nonsense.”
    â€œIt’s a local folktale the children tell each other,” said William. “They say there’s a mermaid who lives in the lake. And if you’re out on the lake too late or right before a storm, she’ll catch you and gobble you up!” He laughed. “Such stories.”
    â€œYeah,” I said, forcing a little laugh. Because carnivorous fish ladies were ridiculous, but reanimated patchwork corpses were totally normal? Didn’t he at least wonder if there were other monsters out there besides me and my parents?
    â€œThe mermaid wasn’t always mean,” said Giselle.
    â€œHush, now,” said Elisa. “Boy