ONION

[Bogatyr 335]

 

ONION

and other entries from Lemon Hill

From the diary of Adolpha Yohānāh

 

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Spoiler

Outside of the bookshelf where this diary is stored, this is not public knowledge.

 

Between lamb-leather covers, there are pages unplundered of human curiosity. Ink and aquarelle percolate into dog-eared sleeves of paper and wash into the waxy cut of cardstock like stains of light-lipstick on tissue paper. It has evidently been unkept, not for many years and perhaps nary for many years to come. There had not been any fantastical nor over-emotional hints to interrupt the practical current of words, unless a kind of footnote scrawled into the last page counted for exposition of some human method. It is sterile, rain-slicked, and unpeculiar, time’s lichen sprawled over the unrifled but folded-over corners and into the unfilled indices and agendas for liturgical seasons:

 

MCMLXX—

I. HORENTIDE: …………………………………………………………………………...

• i (1st, Tobias’ Bounty). Fest on the spoils from the Rorate; liturgical readings follow the Virtue, etcetera etcetera; set the Asperges in the chapel, light candle wicks, refill font.
• ii (7th, Tobias’ Bounty). Prepare a black habit for the Lamentation of Horen and Juli’el; fasting to follow, do not include any game in the abbey’s pantry. Soak others’ black vestments in the bank.
• iii (15th, Tobias' Bounty). Collect cud and kosher from delicatessen for the Triumph—if closed for private celebration, take the route through to Enswerp, refer to Butcher Ephraim.
• iv (20th, Tobias' Bounty). Refill the sheep basins, trim the wool.
• v (24th, Tobias' Bounty). Go to Confession.

II. OWYNTIDE: ……………………………………………………………………...……

• i (3rd, Sun’s Smile). Collect firewood for the Owynsfeast; leave Asperges pamphlets in the chapel for attendants; speak to Groundskeeper Llewelyn to start the hearth.
• ii (15th, Sun’s Smile). Go to Confession.
• iii (16th, Sun’s Smile). Bring the kosher—kept in pantry—to Butcher Ephraim for gristle-trimming; pick up bread; pick the lemons, bring them to Groundskeeper Llewelyn.
• iv. …
• v (23rd, Sun’s Smile). Prepare shofar for Feast of Sts. Evaristus and Clement, find turpentine if the casing is dusted-over; talk to Callahan.
• vi (24th, Sun’s Smile). Go to Confession.

III. SILENCE: ………………..……………………………………………………………

• i (1st, Harren's Folly). Collect firewood from Groundskeeper Llewelyn; dust the curtains for the Great Feast; pick up bread; place hymnbooks in the chapel for the mass; read.
• ii. …
• iii (11th, Harren's Folly). Replace the book covers in the library—find the printer if new covers are needed. Go to mass.
• iv. …
• v (23rd, Harren's Folly). Try to eat—Feast of St. H.P. Everard—do not decline if offered.
• vi (24th, Harren's Folly). Go to Confession.

IV. GODFREYTIDE: ………………………………………………………………………

• i (1st, Horen's Calling). Congregate the choirboys for the Vidi Aquam; ring the bells for mass; go to mass; pick up lemons, groundskeeper is ill.
• ii (2nd, Horen's Calling). Unlock the doors of the seminary, tutelage starting today; till the fields, groundskeeper is ill; trim the sheep wool.
• iii. …
• iv. …
• v (11th, Horen's Calling). Prepare Groundskeeper Llewelyn’s funeral rites.  
• vi (24th, Horen's Calling). Go to Confession.

V. FLAME: ………………………………………………………………………………...

• No entries this month, save only for the turn of the season;
• i (24th, Owyn’s Flame). Go to Confession.

VI. CHURCHTIDE: ………………………………………………………………………

• i (8th, Godfrey’s Triumph). Replace icons for the Feast of Sts. Jude and Kristoff; liturgicals to follow the Spirit and Homilies and Tracts, etcetera etcetera; refill the font.
• ii (12th—13th, Godfrey’s Triumph). Liturgical readings to follow the works of Ven. Humbert, O.S.J, and St. Catherine—works of Ven. Humbert, the Spirit, etcetera etcetera.
• iii (21st, Godfrey’s Triumph). Till the fields; pick the lemons; trim the sheep wool; dust the apse; close the seminary doors, empty all the boards; talk to Callahan.
• iv (23rd, Godfrey’s Triumph). Replace icons for All Saints; see Butcher Ephraim for kosher.
• v. …
• vi. …
• vii. (24th, Godfrey’s Triumph). Go to Confession; talk to Callahan.

 

Past the first year of its issuance, the agenda has not seen human maintenance. Only sparse entries to follow;

 

Adolpha, five-and-ten, MCMLXX—

 

(12th, Tobias’ Bounty)

Midday mass was four minutes past schedule today. I timed it, but the clock on the eastern wall of the chapel is behind. The boys arrived with the father with mud in their shoes and molasses in their hair and the stink of the sheep from the field. They seemed in a rush. I was waiting, but I did not think to protest.

We prayed the Asperges at mass today. I remembered it from Ven. Humbert’s prayerbook. Did not think to mention that, thought the father would groan at me. I think he is bothered by me. When we read the Scripture, I tell him I have done some note-taking. He is never thrilled to see my homilies. At least, not after the first few times. I place him for not being a reader.

 

One of the seminary boys stared at me during the prayer. I think perhaps he was actually the groundskeeper’s son. It was not unnatural, only longer than was normal or necessary. When I ducked my head from the light limning my eyes through the veil and turned it his way, he pointed his face resolutely forward and hid it like a loping wolf. 

It reminded me of the way larks stand on fences and rooftops during a storm. They do not, or perhaps, they do not know, take off nor nest. But, with an impatient wriggle, twitch—neither our of fear nor instinct. He blinked that way. I think he believes I did not see. I did. It is difficult not to.

After I noticed, he stared at and pored over his belt cord silently for a few minutes until the psalter concluded. He did not talk. We rose from the mass and he tipped his heel back a stretch more than he should have, and his shoes clipped the candle stand. I did not turn to look.

I do not know why he was looking. There is a very particular, and what is more, very peculiar form of attention. That is not the reverent kind, nor even the desirous. It is a winged breed of attention. One that flutters and barrels toward and slams into the glass beak-first. I wonder if that is what the boy was. I don’t have a song for that kind of bird.

 

I think perhaps I mouthed something in error. I will repent later.

 

(15th, Tobias’ Bounty)—mid-evening

I was in my dormitory last night. I overheard one of the seminary brothers from across the drywall. He was gossiping, not like boys are but more like my sisters often did and were often wont to;

‘I do not think she even eats,’ he whispered into the bunk, or something of that effect, no doubt half shut-eyed and half shut-eared, head pillow-snuck.

I did not know to feel upset. I decidedly did not. It is something I have considered for some time. In truth, and to confirm his supposition—I do not know if I do. Or if I even need to. I want, I think, to be right. And, righteousness is a thing that is utterly disinterested as to whether I am glad, or grieving, or known, or loved, or pleased, or starving, or thirsty, or sick. What does it mean to be right before God? Not to be beloved. Nor even to be justified. Nor even to be happy. Just, simply, stilly—right. 

They must think of me, those boys, that I am cold.

I have no way of confirming it, but I think that I must be burning.

 

This morning, I went to fill the basins for the sheep. I thought about it for some time: what he had said, and what they had thought. It is a strange thing to hear myself spoken of aloud. I do not believe that I am often on or need be on the tongues of others. Even if they are more sigh than speech, his words, like those of my sisters, often do make the most unturned and stony among us feel like a nuisance. I do not think it matters—‘I do not think she even eats.’

I do not feel that eating is an action that affirms the body. Only one that affirms the time. We eat if it is breakfast, if it is lunch, if it is supper. We know that it is dawn, afternoon, and evening. We eat because it is ordered and because the hour requires it. If I forget the hour, I forget the act.

I know that they mean it in jest, and that they find humour in their canine incisors as it treats on the skin of my back. I cannot help but feel, however, that they do not understand. I withhold myself from food because I simply do not find it useful most days. It is a loud and assuming act. Righteousness is quiet and unassuming.

When they think I am cold, they cannot see that I am a heat that will not spend itself on comfort. That is a flame that does not smoke, does not crackle, does not spit, does not cry out.

 

(24th, Tobias’ Bounty)

I went to Confession today. I did not find the confessor to assign my quest. Instead, I went to the mess hall.

I have realised this now, and operating in a tunnel of clarity, my body switching gears and replacing hunger with focus. I am an onion that has been peeled back all the way. But, it does not make you cry at all. You pick it back and take a fistful of rings and feed them to yourself because it will make your stomach feel a little more full, but no more than it needs be.

Nobody, I think, realises this. They are slicing their onions with the same fingers they plug their eyes with and wonder why they are teary.

 

Other entries have been started, but not substantiated enough.

 

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Edited March 26, 2025 by Bogatyr