Chapter 2

Mel can read history just as much as Alex can in these wandering walls, but for her, the magic lies not in what is hidden, but what is presented. Clean lines and expensive materials speak to her of a belief in progress, in hope, in a sense of possibility. Shame that the police, if Alex’s telling of events is accurate, stopped that progress, but she can sense the feeling of freedom and opportunity in every inlay and mural. Women once saw these walls and this furniture as a sanctuary from an unjust world, and they gave it hopeful colors and grand, almost religious, architecture as a result.

She, too, is somewhat aware of the discovery of Tut’s tomb. She has less to say about the moment itself as its impact on the style of the 1920s. There was a revival of Egyptian art, and the cubic forms she can see as she wanders the hallways aimlessly attest to that. There’s a feeling of splendor, mixed with silence. Something is deeply eerie about it, yet simultaneously promising, as if someone might simply be waiting in the wings until it’s safe to come out. Waiting for the police to leave. Of course, nobody has been here in decades.

She passes by rows of mirrors and sees herself. She isn’t often alone like this. Her family’s house on Long Island is spacious, but her neighbors’ houses are barely 10 feet away. Neither at home, nor in Boston, has she ever had this sense of quiet. Girl Scout camp comes to mind, but she hadn’t lasted long in Girl Scouts. The feeling is odd. It’s overwhelming and peaceful at the same time. In the mirrors she passes, she’s reminded of how alone she is.

She finds herself, without intent, back at the main hall, beneath the mural of the woman and her crown. Mel examines the mysterious figure. Her eyes read ease and comfort. It isn’t a look of cold command; it has more warmth, but the woman is still the unquestioned ruler of this room. She need not intimidate anyone below her the way a king would, because it does not even occur to her that some man might disobey. No, she merely occupies this space as she wishes, and those in her presence accommodate.

Mel wonders about the mural and its place in Lotus Valley. Was that the culture they established? One in which matriarchy was so engrained, it didn’t need to be reinforced? Or was that just the aspiration, painted into this wall? Alex had said all the men were here willingly. Did the artist even know what they were painting this for? She wonders about being in this woman’s shoes. Or sandals, as it were. To have not just the confidence, but the social expectation, that she would be heard and respected. The way men are so accustomed to being heard that the mere presence of non-male voices strikes them as unjust. Was that how women once felt here? It’s a difficult reality to imagine, and she doesn’t know who she’d be in it.