The Maxwell Curse

“Bonded by the strings of fate, a butterfly’s wing beat can change it all.” - Maxwell’s book of curses

I looked down at the still corpse, of an older man I didn’t recognize as my great grandfather. Cornelius George Peirce. Gray, wrinkled, and yet every bit a distinguished man even in his death. A grand ceremony; for a corpse I never knew.

It was hard to feel anything. To want to feel anything. Even as I saw the flutter of white wings land from his hand, to my shoulder- all I could think was how much I wanted to leave the hot sun.

Staring past the casket to my mother who walked on after a male, fluttering her fan. I wondered for the millionth time what trick of fate brought us here. Or if it was really just her greed for money that had her making a fool out of both of us.

The butterfly continued to rest on my shoulder. My eyes glancing over to the white delicate wings as it stayed, gently fluttering its wings in the breeze. A strange jolt going up and down my spine as I realized how large it was, as well as some deeper veined hues of purple within its wings.

A striking creature, at such a sad event.

I frowned, blinking once more as I realized the butterfly had vanished into thin air. As if I had imagined the entire thing. Glancing around to try and look within the casket, I began to think the sun was finally getting to me. Wracking my brain on how quickly it had disappeared.

“Elizabeth.” My mother hissed, her arm hooking into mine and violently dragging me away from the casket. “It’s rude to continue to stare. You’re holding up an entire line. What do you think the family will think? That we’re some weird hillbillies that have never seen a corpse before? Or that I just can’t raise a respectable girl?”

My face was scarlet, realizing how poorly it must have reflected on her when she had already told me I needed to make a good impression. Not to mention how crazy I must have looked. Standing in front of everyone, rubbernecking all over the corpse of my Great Grandfather.

I knew it was impossible to make a good impression the moment we pulled up in our shabby pick up to what looked like a luxurious garden party at a cemetery. That our good impression was lost long before my antics. It was also gone about the same time my mom pulled up her tits up when she heard a grown man crying. Before pursuing someone that clearly was no longer interested since she was next to me giving me her undivided attention.

However she had a point about staring at my grandfather and holding up an entire line. I was just making us look even worse. The outcasts that shouldn’t have even been invited.

“Sorry.” I mumbled so she would quit pinching me under the arm. Instead her grip tightened, almost growling under her breath before she released me to some seats to the back of everyone gathering. Taking our seats as the priest slowly came forward.

“Why are we even here if everyone hates us?” I muttered under my breath, seeing another old lady in mourning black lace practically spit in our direction as she walked by. Wondering who she was as the last people began to take their seats.

“No one hates us, we’re family. Whether they like it or not.” My mother replied, sitting up straight as the preacher went to the podium and began his speech.

I had no interest, discreetly sliding a headphone into my ear as I passed what I hoped to be the last moments with my mother, and her family ties.

This was the third occasion I had to be present for, and that was only because I was one month away from moving with my friend to an out of state college. I hadn’t exactly had choices when I turned eighteen, my “ailing” mother not helping the process of enrollment on all fronts. Not realizing how much she had sabotaged me at every turn to grow up and leave.

Now that I was twenty, and had the support of friends. It wasn’t hard to redirect my mail or learn how to discover things she had hidden from me. Her generation not being as technologically savvy as my peers.

I was all to giddy as the casket closed and the procession stood to send off dear old Great grandfather- whom I had never met while both of us had been alive.

As soon as the final scoops of dirt covered the crypt, we were in our little orange beat up Chevy to the small gathering where they pulled people for the reading of the will. Something I didn’t wholly understand, other than there was an open bar where they likely wouldn’t look for my ID. Even if they did, my birthday was a few days away; so if I had a bartender that hopefully looked the other way for a guest.

Then again we weren’t dressed nearly as elegantly as anyone else. The sore thumbs in our off black home dye Walmart dresses I had worked on all week. So it was possible they’d reject me just because calling me a guest was a stretch in this outfit.

“So what’s the point of all this? It seems like a waste of time to even come.”

“You skipped work and I paid for Ihop. Can you just be grateful? You’ll get some food and we’re leaving, it’s almost over.” She sounded disgruntled, as if she had been expecting more with the invitation. My line of questioning likely making her frustration worse.

“He wasn’t even directly related to you, was he? You said you didn’t know your dad.”

“We had a personal invitation, and I have no contact with my mother’s family. Why don’t you just enjoy what little roots we have, while we still have them.”

“Enjoy the rich snob’s food. Got it.”

“Elizabeth.” My mom Diana sighed, turning off the truck as we arrived as the edge in her voice grew. “You better behave.”

I rolled my eyes as she slammed the door to the truck, knowing that just our presence was an embarrassment.

I knew mom had financial troubles, but to sit here at a funeral hoping for money or to nab a rich man. This is just sad. I mentally accounted as my mother abandoned me once more for a group of older men off to smoke some cigars.

I sighed, sliding out of the truck and not bothering to slam it to bring more attention. Knowing that anyone here would be unlikely to want to steal anything in the first place, and if they did it would be from a separate car. Anything but the rusty orange pick up that stood out in a sea of shiny cars. Making me surprised there wasn’t a valet with how much money it seemed most of these people practically dripped.

If Gran knew how mom sucked up to these people, she’d be disgusted.

“Shrimp, Miss-?” I was greeted by someone as I entered the building, a tall male with slicked back brown hair. His eyes sparkling as if he had just enjoyed a joke a missed.

“Jennings. I’m alright. Thank you though.”

As I spoke, the sound of tinkling glasses brought the room to a hush. My attention turned to a male who was now standing on a nearby vase. One that looked delicate enough to crack under the right pressure as the blond man began to speak.”Although we were never officially related by blood, my great uncle treated me as a son. I have had many worries about the future, but my Uncle was an intelligent man. I never needed to worry in the past, so with his knowledge and guidance I’m sure I won’t need to in the future. I will follow on in his footsteps, as the heir he groomed me to be. He will be much missed, by all.”

He was beautiful for a man, the longer I stared at him. The regular muscles and angled jaw, sharp silver bluish eyes that seemed to pierce into each person as he spoke. He looked to be in his late twenties, and with the way he carried himself-

“What a liar.” I muttered under my breath, changing my mind about the shrimp as I lifted a glass off the servant’s platter, causing him to give me the side eye.

“You’re speaking of Aiden Peirce?” He asked, pointedly looking over at the scene of a cracked vase as his brutish shelf decided to jump from it. Something that had dirt spilling out of the side of it and several maids or servants nearby coming to clean the mess.

“Hard to clean up a mess, when he’s a walking nightmare.” I said, muttering my grievances once more. “His entire speech wasn’t even a little bit heartfelt. It was a victory lap”

The servant didn’t say anything, he just seemed to look down at me with an unfathomable expression. One that made me uncomfortable enough to slip into the crowd with my shrimp. Ignoring the way his handsome eyes made me feel like the bug I truly was. Even compared to him.

I was common riff raff. I was fully aware of my status. Making even a servant like him, dipping his toes in a life of luxury like this; much higher than myself. So it was understandable he was giving me the stink eye for talking poorly about one of the men that might sign his paychecks.

It was hard to care. His words had held no emotion, and no one had batted an eyelash. Letting him continue on like he was some sort of god. Suddenly making me understand a sliver of resentment my mother had harbored for this part of the family and her own mother for so many years.

Someone like Aiden Peirce, didn’t deserve whatever riches the world might bestow on him. He was worse than a nightmare the more I stared at him, and closer to a demon straight from hell.

Sitting at the bar I waited to get attention, raising my fingers as he finally made eye contact as if I had done this a dozen times. Which I had. Using a fake I.D for the last year I had been in collage to get into bars with friends and enjoy a wind down. “Vodka Cranberry.”

“Make that double.” My mother said, sitting down next to me and brushing back her hair with a deep sigh. Exposing her cleavage to the bartender that didn’t even bother to do a double take at us. Pouring our drinks and sliding them over before he moved onto other guests. “About ready to leave?”

She sounded annoyed. Likely because she had been rejected again, realizing the fruits of her labor to be fruitless. Something that wouldn’t be anymore tolerable for the drive back with alcohol in her system.

“Yeah sure I-”

“Misses and Misses Jennings?”

My mother and I turned, surprised to see an older graying gentleman in his priest gowns. A man in a suit, glasses and dark green tie next to him; one that spoke volumes at being a lawyer of some kind.

“That’s us.” My mother replied, looking just as shocked as I was with her glass halfway to her mouth.

“Ma’am, you and your daughter are requested at the will reading. If you could please come with us?”

My mother and I met eyes, confusion meeting her greed. As if this was what she had been waiting for her entire life. Wondering if our lineage really did mean she might be left something after all.

I tried not to focus on the whispers around us, or the many eyes. Telling myself that the only thing left to my mom might be some family heirloom jewelry of some kind she was more likely to pawn off than keep. Not enjoying being the center of attention, or some sort of spectacle for everyone to gawk at.

“We would be very grateful for the escort.” My mother replied smoothly, placing her drink on the bar and lacing an arm through mine.