Unanswered
by tremblingmoon
Author's Notes: Written for the "evenangels" community (Challenge #2) on LiveJournal. The prompts (in italics) were written by LJ user "flyingpeanuts."
March sky, barefoot in blue: in your arms—smiling, laughing, tiny toes poking air, chubby fingers grasping curls—she looks like your daughter, not mine or ours, and for a moment I resent her uncanny ability to reflect your smile in hers. My blood, my genes, but your skin and hair, and she's gorgeous; for a moment, I love you and her and us as much as I should.
But then you turn and catch my eye through the window, and I must look frazzled to you, frustrated and tired—not pretty or sweet or as young as I felt this time last year—and you smile that sad, sheepish, worried frown of a smile that is so reminiscent of past betrayals that I have to turn away.
That evening, Angelica in my lap and you're talking of traveling again—all righteous passion and verve and restrained excitement twitching in your hands—and suddenly everything's flooding back and I feel the defenses I never used to have rise unbidden against the heat of your voice. A warm feeling of studied indifference settles over me, and something like surprise flickers over your face when you meet my guarded eyes.
I barely hear you when you say you'll miss me.
Frenetically, like I'm gathering a life line to save myself from drowning, I begin to talk. Of my own obligations, of my work, mimicking your tone, your ambition. I pull Angelica tightly to my body and begin to turn away.
You speak again because you think I didn't hear, try one more time, not realizing I'm lost and terrified and fighting for breath. I don't answer. I don't know if I can.
"Tina, I'll miss you."
Your voice is a whisper of snow.