Our Good Name

 

I had to walk up to him, after that feeling of utterly electric connection. He was just sitting there reading, but when I walked over, he looked up from his book and gave me a shy smile.

 

He got off the bench, and I offered him my hand. “Hello. I’m Pandora, and I’m a bit new in town.” I said.

 

“Sherman Bagley,” he introduced himself. “It’s nice to meet you, Pandora.”

 

 

 

We ended up talking for a few hours, as the night got later and later. Sherman was easy to talk to, and I nearly found myself telling him everything. I wanted to cry on his shoulder about my family’s misfortune. In fact, before I knew it, the whole story came spilling out. He said nothing, made no judgments, simply listened to what I had to say and occasionally nodded or made noises of sympathy. It felt nice to have someone listen for a change, instead of keeping it all locked up.

 

We finally said our goodbyes rather late. I slipped off home, and for the first time imagined that I might…just…be happy here.

 

 

By a few weeks in, I had a routine fairly set. I used the town’s gym showers to bathe, and I got breakfast or lunch, whatever the time was, at Hogan’s Deep-Fried Diner. Good food, so bad for me. It was a good thing I walked most everywhere.

 

One of my favorite places was the art museum.. Artistry had always been in my family, going back to the first Pandora Kalonimos. It was…a family trait, you could say. I loved visiting the Octagon House, even if I didn’t always…get the art.

 

After all, in one room they had some chairs on stands…I mean, they were nice chairs, but…Eh, I suppose this wasn’t exactly a sophisticated town, perhaps they found it hard to get more traditional art and had gone for folk stuff.

 

I think the best little coincidence was when I ran into Sherman there. He had never struck me as the type, and he looked as out of place surrounded by the sculptures (uh, sort of) on display as I did, me in my raggedy shirts and beat-up jeans and him in his military uniform.

 

Of course, I found out in a few minutes just why he was there.

“Pandora,” he said, “I’d like you to meet my mother. Mother, this is Pandora.”

“The girl you’ve been telling me about?” Mrs. Bagley looked me up and down with a razor stare.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Mrs. Bagley.” I said, feeling horribly frumpy next to her elegant furs and supple leather gloves.

“Hrmph.” She sniffed and walked away.

 

“Your mother seemed…friendly,” I said. “And Sherman, yo never told me you were in the military.”

 

“She gets like that,” Sherman admitted. “I’m sure she likes you just fine. And…I’m actually leaving, taking a civilian job as a police officer instead. It’s…more my thing.” I laughed. I could imagine Sherman, with his ever-so-kind heart, being a cop.

 

We met at the gallery a few times after for what…really felt like dates. I hoped I wasn’t  misinterpreting things, because I genuinely liked Sherman. And it seemed he…liked me too!

 

‘So this is it,’ I thought, staring at the foundation and steps. ‘All that’s left of the old Kalonimos mansion.’

 

Surrounded by elegant, graceful mansions, the small square of nothing looked especially sad. And me? I looked pretty sad standing in front of it, the last real heir to the Kalonimos line and the first to be willing to come back to Riverview after…what had happened.

Everyone in the family knew the story. They knew that my great-great-grandmother Alecto had been the head of the branch of the Mafia located in Riverview, and possibly of a much wider criminal enterprise. The police had suspected it throughout her life, but no one could ever prove anything.  And, of course, there were the strange rumors…about how she had triplets, but only two ever seemed to be seen anywhere, about the strange death of her father and later her husband, about…well, most everything to do with Alecto Kalonimos. Again, no one ever proved anything.

Until my mother, her granddaughter Elektra,  decided to go digging to build herself an underground lab for her inventions…and came across a previous underground structure built by Alecto. In there was all the proof anyone ever needed. Diaries, notes, letters…everything you could ask for to prove that yes, she had definitely been engaging in some very…well, frankly evil behavior.

It was the shame of my family. Mom packed up and left town, simply abandoning the old mansion. It was on the market for decades. No one wanted that house. Then, it “mysteriously” caught fire and burned to the ground. The small foundation and steps were all that was left. I could only guess it was the front entrance.

 

My name is Pandora Kalonimos, named after the many-times-great grandmother of mine who had first founded our family’s short-lived and rather messy legacy here in Riverview. She had lived her life uprightly and well, and I intended to do the same. How could I ever redeem my family’s name otherwise?

Of course, I hadn’t wanted to come to Riverview, where I worried that people still whispered about my family. But I had no choice. Mom didn’t do so well after she left, and eventually an inventing accident had killed her. My father slipped into a deep depression, lost his job, and…well, there was just no money. The house went into foreclosure, and the only place our family had left was this sad wreck.

I tested the foundation. Concrete, so it would be firm enough to hold what I had brought.

 

I got some help from the movers to unload what I did have-a few basic appliances and a bed. Fortunately, there was an outdoor electric connection for me to hook everything up to.

Of course, that meant something: bills. Water, power, everything. I would have to pay them. A part of me wanted to do the sensible thing and get a 9-to-5 job. But…well, there’s something I want to do, and I might as well see about doing it.

 

So…I decided I might as well chase my dreams, because there was no reason not to check it out. I went to the local salon and met the owner and tattoo artist, Shana Natcher.

“Hey, I’m Pandora…I was wondering, do you need a stylist?” I asked.

Hell yes, I want to be a famous stylist one day. Why not?

 

“Oh my gee, girlie, I’ve never seen you around but you are a Godsend straight from above. Our old stylist just quit, and I don’t have a replacement!” She said.

 

“Well, I can start working today, if you don’t mind.” I said. “I don’t really have much experience, but..”

 

“Hun,” Shana said, “you’ve made yourself look nice enough, and I’m guessing you don’t have a lot to work with. I’ll take a chance on ya.”

 

“Thank you!” I said, choosing to not admit that she was very right. My clothes were thrift store castoffs with scissor modifications.

 

 

I worked on a little styling, but mostly I got to know the townsfolk. If anyone noticed that I only gave my first name, no one said anything. I did have a few older residents staring at me…people who might have known my great-grandmother…or even my mother…Gosh, I was nervous around everyone!

 

Once the day ended and Shana kicked everyone out of the salon, I decided to go for a walk in the park that ran between most of the main shops and attractions in town. The…lot was pretty far out, so I decided to take any opportunity to get here.

 

And then I saw him, and I felt like I was having a meeting with destiny.