The Other Borgia

Though the little spring idyll we just had was wonderful, I am pretty sure Charming Calvin's mother isn't too pleased that I monopolized her precious son's time this entire week. Even the festive hamper of oranges I brought over wouldn't mollify her for sure.

Which is probably why Madame Borgia stared at me balefully each time I merrily waved to her from the driveway of the estate. Favourable or not, at least I actually managed to get a reaction from her which is more than I can say for the other members of his family.

And by others, I mean his sister Benedicta Borgia. If I thought Charming Calvin was the reticent sort, his sister is practically the enigmatic Sphinx. Compared to her silent highness, Calvin's practically garrulous.

Even my taciturn brother chatters more.

Paul : Hey, such a lovely morning. How are you?
Benedicta : Morning.
Paul : You're certainly up early.
Benedicta : Huh.
Paul : Had some work in town I bet?
Benedicta : Yes.
Paul : Worked up an appetite?
Benedicta : Yes.
Paul : Breakfast it is!
Benedicta : Humph.

Chatty she certainly isn't. More inclined to indistinguishable grunts and humphs with the occasional mumbled syllable or two. Sister Silence I dub her.

Hopefully it's the language barrier since my Mandarin's barely serviceable!


Yes, Benedicta is that scary!
Of course I'm already inclined to like her since Benedicta, for all her haughty aloofness, pretty much stood by poor Calvin through his entire harrowing coming-out nightmare of pawangs and psychiatrists. Calvin repeatedly assures me that she's perfectly lovely - though I am sure she's a lot less accomodating when it comes to homosexual brothers-in-law.

Though I am sure the saintly Benedicta harbours no homicidal notions towards me, she would probably prefer that I not be in the picture. Certainly not in the very same town she's living. At least I assume that's what she's thinking since it's hard to discern from a smattering of mutterings.

Hmm. Maybe I should have gotten her a gift basket as well.