Chapter 2: Sweet Treats and ends meet

The morning sun peeked its way through the small washroom window as Sai combed her long, black waves with her wooden brush. She turned to her side and examined the length of her hair; it was just below her rear. Sai doesn’t really get to see her hair much because it’s always tied up and covered by her headdress. The headdress was part of the Enit culture; it was believed that the female’s hair was her most beautiful trait, and that she must cover it as a clam shell does a pearl. It was also used to identify an Enit from any other tribe of people. When a baby girl is born, her head is immediately wrapped with a small, white cloth. She is not allowed to remove it except only in the presence of family. Sai can’t remember the last time she cut her hair. She admired the length and the thickness as well as the color. She looked so different from the Learsi people. The Learsi folk’s hair was thin, yet straight and fair; colors ranging from golden blonde to light brown. She twisted her hair into a low braid and wrapped her headdress loosely around her head and headed towards the door. She was about to open the latch when a glimmer in a corner caught her eye. She pivoted her head to see a beautiful, red cloth sitting delicately on her dull couch. Next to it was a small cushion holding a couple needles and a piece of silk threading. Sai made her way towards the cloth and stared at it admiringly. A smile perched on her face and her date colored eyes sparkled with delight. She ran her chubby fingers across the cloth, feeling the sweet smoothness of the silk. She felt the glittery embroidery on her finger tips and she traced each one. She hasn’t seen something so beautiful in a while.

“Do you like it?” She heard a voice say coming from the kitchen. She gazed up to see her mother gliding towards her holding a plate of freshly peeled boiled eggs.

Sai nodded happily, “Yes! It’s absolutely perfect!” She reached over and picked up the scarf; it appeared like a red waterfall ready to pour its beauty into the world.

“It’s for you,” mother responded with a grin, “It is a gift from me to you; you shall wear it at your ceremony,” She placed the plate of eggs down and took the scarf from Sai’s hands, “I even sewed the first letter of your name unto the corner,” She pointed at an S that was perfectly threaded into the fabric. Sai felt a sense of complete joy seeing that even though her mother was illiterate like every Enit, she still knew what letter her daughter’s name started with. That was a great achievement.

Just in that split moment the door barged open and out came Kales running after one of his chickens; an old and fat like a ripe peach, hen with a grumpy face that became sour with age. Her feathers flew all over the room as he tried to catch the beastly creature. The old hen clucked loudly as she did her best to escape the hands of the tiny boy. Sai and her mother watched as Kales circled and circled until finally he was close enough and grabbed the old hen’s tail, making her cluck even louder and flap her wings. He put his other hand on her back and pulled her still, beginning to pet her gently, “There, there Saffron, it’ll be okay…” He cooed at her as she slowly began to quiet down. He picked her up and looked up at mother and Sai, “The neighbor’s wiener dogs got loose and started to chase after her,” he picked up a couple of feathers from the floor, still holding unto the chicken, “The other chickens managed to escape into the coop, but poor old Saffron was too old and fat to run as fast as them,” He rubbed her head with his free hand and she pulled her head away in annoyance and clucked.

Sai smirked. That chicken was always a nuisance. There were times that Sai went to feed the other chickens and she tripped over Saffron, who always placed herself right next to Sai’s foot, dropping the food all over herself. “She doesn’t even lay eggs anymore! We should just eat her.”

“No!” Kales whined, “I love her.”

“Take her out into the yard and let her drink some water,” mother ordered, “Open your mouth wide.” Kales opened his mouth as wide as he can and mother stuffed a boiled egg in between his teeth. She gestured Sai to do the same and an egg was welcomed into her mouth. She chewed the soft breakfast as she watched Kales exit the door with the aged hen in his arms.

“I hate that chicken. She’s so ugly,” Sai groaned.

Her mother let out a small sigh then reached over into her pocket and took out a couple of coins, “Do you think you can run down to the bakery and buy some bread?” Sai nodded as her mother dropped the coins into the palm of her hand.

Sai felt the warm sun kiss her exposed face as she tilted her chin towards the sky. She admired the puffy, white pearl clouds that floated majestically above her, I wonder how it would feel to be able to soar through the clouds? Sai thought to herself, I imagine it must be very peaceful and calm, she let out a small smile as she bumped into a stack of crates causing them to topple over. One of them cracked and leaked out a scarlet substance.

“Watch where you are going!” Croaked the voice behind the crates. Sai rubbed her head as she leaned over and saw Mr. Scontroso, the grumpy, plump, stubby man. His fish lips formed a frowned at Sai, the lines on his face appearing like he had taken a bite out of a sour lime. His nut brown eyes glared as he swatted at her to get out of the way. That’s when he noticed the liquid escaping from the broken crate. “Aw no!” He gasped as he dropped the other crates and struggled to cover the hole with his hands.

“I’m sorry Mr. Scontroso!” Sai whimpered as she watched the pudgy man struggle to cover the sweet juice from escaping anymore.

“Hurry and find something to cover this hole with!” Shouted Mr. Scontroso; his thick hands covered in sticky cherry goop.

Sai began to gallop like a donkey, the coins her mother gave her jingling inside of her pants pocket. She looked around desperately in the open bazaar for anything. Hundreds of shoppers bustled around on the crowded path way, buying seasonal fruits and vegetables, trading eggs for potatoes, three, healthy hens for one lamb, admiring hand sewn bags and clothing made from the tailors, shoes getting fixed and hammered right at the spot by the cobblers, rolled up meat rolls being sold by the dozen; suddenly one stand caught her eye; the painted clay pots, vases, and plates, by the local potter. Sai increased her speed as she jogged towards the stand, dodging all the village people, trying not to crash into anyone, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” She squawked as she lightly bumped into a few shoppers who smirked at her.

As she approached she saw the potter sitting on the floor on the right side of his stand, surrounded by pots of all shapes and sizes. In between his legs was a round piece of wood and on top of that was a blob of clay that he was forming with his hands. His feet stuck out like two cracked, dry canyons, and his legs appeared ashy. A bead of sweat appeared on top of his ancient head and a few pieces of dry clay stuck to his chalky beard. Although his lanky body appeared like it was going to fall apart, his eyes were fixated on the blob, full of content and focus.

“Grandpa Guri,” Sai panted as she held her knees, trying to catch her breath. She pointed at a large pot that sat surrounded by little ones on the rug, “I,” she heaved, “I need that one. I need it for Mr. Scontroso.”

Grandpa Guri blinked and then uttered, “Ten coins.”

Sai rummaged through her pocket and pulled out the money and counted, “I only got seven!”

“This one for seven,” He gestured towards a medium sized clay pot with small handles.

“I’ll take it!” Sai dropped the coins into the dry palm, picked up the pot, and sprinted off. Grandpa Guri examined the coins and marveled at how it glimmered in the sun before putting it into his vest pocket.

By the time Sai reached Mr. Scontroso, his hands looked like two crimson crab claws. “Hurry up troublemaker!” Shouted the senior. Sai placed the pot over the crack and moved Mr. Scontroso’s hands away. The cherry preserves poured into the pot successfully. “You are lucky,” Mr. Scontroso growled, “If I would have lost my prize cherry sauce you would have been spending the rest of your days mashing cherries!”

“Why did you make so much sauce Mr. Scontroso? Usually you only bring one crate for the bazaar,” Sai asked curiously.

“You haven’t heard, you turkey? The king is coming down tomorrow!” Mr. Scontroso shook his droopy head.

“What? He is?” Sai said alarmed. The king usually came every spring to check on how things were going on in the villages and towns and to make a few announcements. She didn’t understand why he was planning to come during the end of summer, especially when the weather has been quite outrageous for the past couple of weeks, “Has something important come up?”

“Yes you mentally unstable rabbit,” Mr. Scontroso was grumpier than ever, “It’s his birthday! The majesty is turning fifty-six! Why else do you think I need so much cherry sauce for? For all those damn nobles to cover their pieces of fancy toast, which is, by the way, made by our very own Enit baker, with my cherry masterpiece!” Mr. Scontroso grinned, his teeth appearing like old, yellow corn kernals, as he brushed his hand over the few grey hairs he had left on his egg bald head, “If I can impress the king with my sauce then perhaps he may take me in as his right man chef!” He chuckled.

“But what if the king isn’t fond of sweets? What if he were more into sour things like tamarind sauce or lemon juice?” Sai asked.

Mr. Scontroso waved his hand at Sai, “Scram now you little dung beetle, you’ve caused me enough trouble for today,” and with that he carried his crates on and disappeared into the sea of people.

“Birthday,” Sai said to herself as she began to walk, I didn’t know the king’s birthday was a day after mine? How absurd! How wonderful and delightful! She thought to herself. Sai really liked the king; he was Learsi descent and was very nice to the Enit people. He would personally come down to her village and ask the people what they needed. And to think the king would be turning fifty-six and I ten! Fifty-six is such an old number! And ten is such a young number-oh, but Kales is six; six must be a child number then. Numbers are strange; especially when they are attached to people. I wonder how old Mr. Scontroso is? He looks to be about one hundred-no one hundred and ten! Or Grandpa Guri? He must be one thousand! It’s when Sai noticed a young woman holding a loaf of bread that she remembered her first duty, “Oh no! I forgot!” And with that she dashed to the bakery.