ROSS KIMBERLIN
The Queen of Emilys
I'M DATING EMILY BRONTË. We met on Tralfamadore. Kurt hasn’t written about this yet—give him time.
I always did like the feisty ones. She’ll pout and sulk, it’s whatever; I’m still a fan. I like when she makes up weird shit or just stands in the corner fuming, with this fire in her eye. I’ve told her not to change a thing, that she had the perfect career. That’s how everybody wants to do it—pour all your boiling water into one freakish masterpiece from Hell, then die. Straight to the grave, none of this stick around pretending to enjoy life bullshit. One book—peace, bitches!
I don’t know if that was her plan or not, if she admired artists who died young like they were museum pieces. So many people died young back then that it might not have stood out. If you look up the town she lived in, there was a Hell of a body count—they didn’t even have room to bury them all. You’d have to be a real drama queen to make much fuss about TB in a place like that. So I’m not sure she’d get the whole die-at-27 fetish we have now.
Em is surprisingly compliant with the Tralfamadorians’ testing and observation. I think she knows that they mean no harm and are just curious. They are not trying to influence her or alter the future, just admiring the mosaic.
She’s so bright, I don’t think she’s surprised that time is fluid and non-linear; I can see the wheels turning when I tell her about where I’m from and how everybody has read her book. She believes in ghosts and all that shit anyway, she’s from the 1800s, everybody did except a few scientists who probably had to lie about it so they didn’t get burned at the stake. Her dad was a preacher, so time travel isn’t much of a stretch from there; it’s almost tame compared to some of the madness that’s in the Bible. I think she’s cool with the space-travel idea too—is it really any weirder than Revelation and the Gospel of Mark?
Anyway, Victorian England looks almost as science-fiction to the Tralfamadorians as their flying saucers do to us—like, why would you put child-carriers in corsets that deform their torsos, why would you put debtors in prison where they can’t make money. Her sister Charlotte was into phrenology and paid some quack to measure her skull—that’s a laugh. I wonder what the Tralfamadorians would make of that. We are as exotic to them as they are to us, maybe more—because what they do is rational, their behaviors make sense…whereas we just do whatever crazy shit we feel like.
I'VE BEEN WONDERING WHAT ALL TO TELL Em about the world in my time, whether I should even bring up the internet or just leave it. I don’t think she cares either way. If you read her book, there’s no outside world in it, just two houses. I keep telling her that Goth is big with the young girls, and cosplay, how many of them would love to meet her. I think she really just misses her dog.
The one thing we connect on is books. I read somewhere that her favorite novel was Confessions of a Justified Sinner. Solid title, right? It’s got all the suffering of a vampire book, just less romantic. If you think Christianity is bonkers today, turn the clock back a couple hundred years and give it a whirl.
Which reminds me. They gave her a castle.
Not really, it’s more like a movie set, but they can make the lab look like anything we want, so Em asked for a castle. It’s pretty cool, actually. Real Gothic. I laughed and said I knew she had a little bit of princess in her somewhere. She got huffy and wouldn’t talk to me for a couple of days, which just proves I was right.
But she forgave me later, because I did do this one thing for her. I knew how isolated she had been growing up, how there weren’t enough interesting people around and she never got to meet her favorite writers. So I said, which famous people would you like to invite over for tea, if you could? Would you like to meet your favorite authors? Make a list of the top ten questions you want to ask them.
I saw the light bulb go on in her eyes and I knew I had something. Who wouldn’t want to do that?
I took her shopping to get some hostess gifts for our guests, and to pick out a dress to wear for the party. She had never been to a mall. We can have castles and malls on the same movie set; it’s our dream.
THE GUESTS ARE SUPPOSED TO ARRIVE in an hour or so. I told Em not to tell me who she invited, that I wanted it to be a surprise. She’s upstairs getting ready right now. I’m looking forward to seeing her come down the steps in her new dress for the first time. I want her to feel as adored as she deserves to be.
I’d love for us to go to the beach, too. I always loved the beach when I was a kid. I don’t know if she’s ever stuck her feet in the water or seen the sun come up over the ocean. She probably never had a tan in her life, up in England. I would love to take her to the Mediterranean, have her try Italian food, see what she looks like in a swimsuit.
But I’d also just love for her to enjoy something in life besides books and fantasy, something that’s out in the real world. A place where people are open and friendly and look hot showing some skin, where they feel free and aren’t repressed and embarrassed, where the weather’s nice, where you can go outside without getting pneumonia and eat something besides gruel. If I take her to live on the ocean, maybe she won’t die of TB again.
In real life, she had to live that misery or she could never have written the book, I know that. But the book’s already out there, it’s not going away. I just want her to have a better life the second time. I would love for the world to give her something besides pain and disease and Hellfire. I think my queen could use a little sunshine.
I always did like the feisty ones. She’ll pout and sulk, it’s whatever; I’m still a fan. I like when she makes up weird shit or just stands in the corner fuming, with this fire in her eye. I’ve told her not to change a thing, that she had the perfect career. That’s how everybody wants to do it—pour all your boiling water into one freakish masterpiece from Hell, then die. Straight to the grave, none of this stick around pretending to enjoy life bullshit. One book—peace, bitches!
I don’t know if that was her plan or not, if she admired artists who died young like they were museum pieces. So many people died young back then that it might not have stood out. If you look up the town she lived in, there was a Hell of a body count—they didn’t even have room to bury them all. You’d have to be a real drama queen to make much fuss about TB in a place like that. So I’m not sure she’d get the whole die-at-27 fetish we have now.
Em is surprisingly compliant with the Tralfamadorians’ testing and observation. I think she knows that they mean no harm and are just curious. They are not trying to influence her or alter the future, just admiring the mosaic.
She’s so bright, I don’t think she’s surprised that time is fluid and non-linear; I can see the wheels turning when I tell her about where I’m from and how everybody has read her book. She believes in ghosts and all that shit anyway, she’s from the 1800s, everybody did except a few scientists who probably had to lie about it so they didn’t get burned at the stake. Her dad was a preacher, so time travel isn’t much of a stretch from there; it’s almost tame compared to some of the madness that’s in the Bible. I think she’s cool with the space-travel idea too—is it really any weirder than Revelation and the Gospel of Mark?
Anyway, Victorian England looks almost as science-fiction to the Tralfamadorians as their flying saucers do to us—like, why would you put child-carriers in corsets that deform their torsos, why would you put debtors in prison where they can’t make money. Her sister Charlotte was into phrenology and paid some quack to measure her skull—that’s a laugh. I wonder what the Tralfamadorians would make of that. We are as exotic to them as they are to us, maybe more—because what they do is rational, their behaviors make sense…whereas we just do whatever crazy shit we feel like.
I'VE BEEN WONDERING WHAT ALL TO TELL Em about the world in my time, whether I should even bring up the internet or just leave it. I don’t think she cares either way. If you read her book, there’s no outside world in it, just two houses. I keep telling her that Goth is big with the young girls, and cosplay, how many of them would love to meet her. I think she really just misses her dog.
The one thing we connect on is books. I read somewhere that her favorite novel was Confessions of a Justified Sinner. Solid title, right? It’s got all the suffering of a vampire book, just less romantic. If you think Christianity is bonkers today, turn the clock back a couple hundred years and give it a whirl.
Which reminds me. They gave her a castle.
Not really, it’s more like a movie set, but they can make the lab look like anything we want, so Em asked for a castle. It’s pretty cool, actually. Real Gothic. I laughed and said I knew she had a little bit of princess in her somewhere. She got huffy and wouldn’t talk to me for a couple of days, which just proves I was right.
But she forgave me later, because I did do this one thing for her. I knew how isolated she had been growing up, how there weren’t enough interesting people around and she never got to meet her favorite writers. So I said, which famous people would you like to invite over for tea, if you could? Would you like to meet your favorite authors? Make a list of the top ten questions you want to ask them.
I saw the light bulb go on in her eyes and I knew I had something. Who wouldn’t want to do that?
I took her shopping to get some hostess gifts for our guests, and to pick out a dress to wear for the party. She had never been to a mall. We can have castles and malls on the same movie set; it’s our dream.
THE GUESTS ARE SUPPOSED TO ARRIVE in an hour or so. I told Em not to tell me who she invited, that I wanted it to be a surprise. She’s upstairs getting ready right now. I’m looking forward to seeing her come down the steps in her new dress for the first time. I want her to feel as adored as she deserves to be.
I’d love for us to go to the beach, too. I always loved the beach when I was a kid. I don’t know if she’s ever stuck her feet in the water or seen the sun come up over the ocean. She probably never had a tan in her life, up in England. I would love to take her to the Mediterranean, have her try Italian food, see what she looks like in a swimsuit.
But I’d also just love for her to enjoy something in life besides books and fantasy, something that’s out in the real world. A place where people are open and friendly and look hot showing some skin, where they feel free and aren’t repressed and embarrassed, where the weather’s nice, where you can go outside without getting pneumonia and eat something besides gruel. If I take her to live on the ocean, maybe she won’t die of TB again.
In real life, she had to live that misery or she could never have written the book, I know that. But the book’s already out there, it’s not going away. I just want her to have a better life the second time. I would love for the world to give her something besides pain and disease and Hellfire. I think my queen could use a little sunshine.
Copyright © January 2024 Ross Kimberlin
Ross Kimberlin lives in Tennessee. He has received a Bachelor of Science degree in English Literature from Vanderbilt University and has had his writing published in theVanderbilt Review and RumbleFish Press.
