Lucy sat in her daughter's office, unable to speak. Her mouth was so dry when she landed, she gulped three bottles of water in one sitting. Adelaide, now nearly thirty, was staring her down with dubious expression.
'No wonder,' Lucy thought, still not knowing how to really speak. It was as if she couldn't remember what speech was like. Before all of this went down she never had a shortage for words, but now all she did was think. Her mouth was sealed shut. She had no idea what to tell her daughter or anyone.
"This is going to make headlines," Adelaide finally set in her chair, taking a deep breath. She was still staring at Lucy with a strange cautiousness but she was more concerned that scared. That was good. Lucy didn't want her own daughter to be scared of her. Instinctively, motherly, she reached towards her but Adelaide pulled away, shaking her head. "I can't....I can't. I'm so sorry."
Tears swell in the corners of her daughter's eyes. Anxiety was driving them both mad. How could this have happened? What miracle had brought her mother back? Lucy wanted to explain it all but even her mind, racing so fast, could not find the right words to say.
What do you say in situations like these? Does anyone had any idea? She doubted that. Not a single character she had created in her whole life had been that fortunate or unfortunate. Memories of the person she was and the person she had become swelled inside her. Part of her felt strange feeling what she was feeling, but part of her knew it was bound to happen. I mean, how else was she supposed to feel?
"What...What are you?" She had been so distracted she didn't notice that Adelaide was carefully analyzing her. To her daughter she must have seen foreign. Alien.
Lucy opened her mouth to say something but promptly shut up. I mean, she had so much to say. How proud she was, how glad she was to see her again, all grow up. But how could she explain it all? How could she explain what happened to her? Why has she forgotten how to speak? She leaned back and took a breath. She had to break her silence.
"I'm Lucy," she started quietly. Her voice surprised her, as if she had forgotten how it really sounded. Where she came from it was deformed, deteriorated, always sad. She sounded normal here, like any other person. "I'm your mother-"
"I don't believe you. My mother is dead. She killed herself," her words stabbed Lucy straight in the heart. So she knew. She knew what Lucy had done. Either from her stupid diary or from Ben, but she had found out. It was bound to happen sooner or later, but it still startled her.
"I did....I did kill myself," she had confirmed. "And I paid for it."
"What do you mean you paid for it? I never said it was your fault or-"
"I was in Hell, Ada," this time she interrupted Adelaide. Fear made her face clench, and her whole body retreat. Her daughter's eyes filled with questions but also with darkness, desperation. "Yes, the afterlife is real." Lucy continued, explaining what had happened to the best of her ability. "Yes, we all go somewhere, depending on what kind of life we live. I was a sinner, so I went to Hell. I lived and fought there, for more than twenty years. For hundreds of years. But when you're dead, time blurs. Nothing matters. You feel nothing and you are nothing," she exhaled, saddened by the thought of her experience. "Just a speck in the dirt."
Adelaide had nothing to say. Her body was shaking, just slightly, at the thought that her mother spent an eternity in hell, slaving away for whatever sins she had committed. What did she do that warranted such punishment? She could say it was her adultery, or maybe her corrupt thoughts or deeds. But no one in life was without at least one sin. Did that mean everyone will go to hell one day?
Ah, it wasn't that. She went to hell because she killed herself. In life, Adelaide wanted to erase any trace of that thought. People shouldn't go to an even darker place because they lose their will to live. They lose it through no fault of their own, but through the faults in the world. It's not strength they lack, but compassion from others. And she knew that most of all, Lucy lacked compassion from the people she loved the most.
"Mom, it wasn't your fault," Adelaide started, softly. She had to admit that however improbable, this was something she had always wished would happen. She wanted to meet her mother, to speak to her face to face and to tell her that she was very much loved. "I...I didn't know you well, but the stories I heard about you were remarkable. You had always been portrayed as the kindest, nicest person in my mind. We all make mistakes, but it's what makes us human. Maybe even what makes us whole. You...I always wanted to meet you. To remember you more clearly. I was so little when you were taken from me."
She could hear her voice crack and her eyes getting sore. She would cry, any moment now, and it was okay. Adelaide had to let go. Lucy reached out to her again, but this time her daughter didn't pull away. Instead, she let her hold her hand. This broke Ada completely. Tears started flowing down her cheeks and she could not contain her sadness anymore.
It was a joyful sadness, but a sadness regardless. Lucy held her hand tight, not letting go. Just feeling her mother's touch was ethereal, surreal. She was really here. She was really talking to her. She wouldn't just disappear any moment, would she?
"Mom, don't go. You have me now, don't go," now it was Lucy's turn to cry. She never thought she would see Adelaide again, let alone an all grown up Adelaide. Her daughter was so beautiful and she felt so proud, she couldn't hold back her own gasps.
"I'm not going to. I'm going to make this right," she promised, silently. Ada wished she could tell her mother that she didn't need to make anything right and that none of this was her fault but it seemed that neither one of them could speak. At this moment, she was just happy that Lucy was here at all.
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Shira was making lunch when a loud bang interrupted her peaceful afternoon. At first, she was scared that a pipe had burst open. If it did, the bills would be enormous to fix something like that, and she didn't want to imagine what it had done to the living room. But then she realized the noise was too loud for a simple burst of a pipe, and too strange. Maybe it was a gunshot from the outside? It couldn't be. The sound was too close.
She dropped whatever she was doing and made her way to the living room, where to her surprise, she found Aiven. Youthful, his skin glowing like it had just been basked in the most radiant sun, a bronze shade so new, one could swear he had just been born. His eyes were dazed and confused, desperately searching around for answers.
Shira collapsed to her knees. She wanted to faint. No, she wanted to erase this from her memory. Years without him, living in a deep sadness of loosing her friend, and here he was, untouched, barely at the beginning of his thirties. And there she was, in front of him, much older than he had probably remembered her to be.
"Shira?" His voice broke as if he was undergoing puberty. It sounded so innocent, so surprised that she found herself tearing up at the thought of his voice.
"How?" That was all she could say. How? How did he get here? How was he alive and how was he so damn beautiful? He had no right to look so naïve and untouched, so unbothered. Years had withered him away, she remembered that much. He looked to her now as if he had never experienced a worry in her life. "How?" This time she said it much louder.
"I don't know," he stood up and walked a few feet before collapsing next to her and gently cupping her face in his hands. "Shira, I don't know," he looked at her with so much love she drowned in his gaze. Had he ever looked at her like that? She was so much older than him now. Fifty one years old. She had wrinkles on her face where her frown had been, and dulled grey hair mixed with her natural color. Her hands were not as soft as they once were and her body was not as attractive as he would have remembered her to be. But he didn't seem to care in the slightest. "All I know is I love you, and I have missed you, so...so much."
He promptly embraced her. Shira was unsure of what she should do, before allowing her to melt in his hands. She hasn't felt these hands for so long, there was a certain safety that immediately came within them. She was home. She was back with her best friend, and he had no idea of the horrors she had went through while he was away.
She cried into his shoulder and he gently stroked her head, allowing her to let out whatever emotions she had. Shira understood that it should have been the other way around. Wherever he was, it must have been traumatic to come back from and realize that your loved ones have all aged. She had so many questions to ask him but she also realized that they will come in time.
Shira didn't want to press him, and instead wanted to enjoy this moment. Who knows how long it will be before he realizes and remembers that he did not share this love with her? Before he remembers that the only love he ever shared was for Lucy.