Life: Part 1. Clingy
Tifa was not a clingy woman.
She couldn't be, could never be and would never be one.
She was a strong independent woman, raised in a town surrounded by the sharpest mountains, trained by a man of solidarity, and honed by the desolate slums of Midgar. She was a battler, warrior and a survivor.
Yet, she was still a loving woman.
So when she stumbled across the fact that today was her birthday and the sounds of breaking glass was the actually the sounds of her children clumsily but desperately trying to make her breakfast in bed, she was touched.
Tifa peered down from the top of the staircase to the kitchen below. She could make out the sounds of Denzel rummaging through the pantry while Marlene, being the shorter one of the two, pointed out the ingredients to him with a voice of authority.
"Denzel, you've got the Hollandaise sauce! We need tomato sauce, silly!"
"How am I supposed to know what is what?"
"Tomato sauce has a red label and hollandaise sauce has a yellow label."
"Hang on! Tomato sauce has a what?"
"A red label! No, not that one!"
Clearly, in the kitchen, Marlene was the boss.
Tifa heard Marlene huff in annoyance, and Denzel clink and clank through some more bottles of sauce and she grinned to herself. Tomorrow, she was going to have to re-label all her bottles.
Trying not to ruin the "surprise" she was about to receive, Tifa tip toed her way back into her bedroom and lay flat on her bed.
So it was her birthday.
How old was she now? 25?
Time sure flew by from… well, whenever. It was hard to think from when she really "began" because there really wasn't much to consider her beginning from.
If she were to begin from her childhood, plunking away on her piano and hanging out with the town's boys, then she would be too far away from her present. Too naive for the pains and horrors she was about to face. Zangan would be there but her father wouldn't. Her town would be there but it really wouldn't.
Her childhood was bliss but it was short and life was long.
So she could start from when she started to live in Midgar. Where she mixed her first drink, worked to earn a couple of cheap gils an hour to keep herself alive. But that was the most distrustful period of her life; hating ShinRa, despising old men who leered at her yet being unable to give up the job that paid and the electricity running through the bulb that kept her room bright at night. She couldn't give that up, no.
She would sleep with the lights on for another 4 years until she finally stopped having nightmares of fires and silver and blood. So she couldn't have started there.
Perhaps, her beginning was when she met Barret. Big muscular man who easily could have squashed her with his enormous gun-arm was instead carrying a small child. The child that was so innocent and clean from the dirty mess of her own disrupted childhood mesmerized her. Round brown eyes soft with naivety and… could it be love? Love in these slums?
So Tifa cared for her as if she were of her own and let Barret into her life. The first person whose arm she didn't twist when he gave her a smile. But even at this time, she couldn't have begun.
Barret was a dangerous man, wanted by ShinRa and opposed by those who supported the company. When with him she and his child were always in danger. When she wasn't with him, he was in danger. When she joined his organization, they were always in danger.
Constant threat of jail, torture or death wasn't where she wanted to start.
A loud clanging sound ripped through the house closely followed by urgent whispering. In an instant Tifa's body snapped upright, muscles tensed and ready to go. She had her hand wrapped around her doorknob when she heard the relieved sigh of Denzel echo quietly up the stairs.
"I can't believe she isn't awake yet."
Marlene's forlorn voice followed.
"Sorry Denzel."
They must have dropped a pan or something by accident. Releasing the tense breath she had been holding, Tifa dropped her hand from her door and returned to her bed.
It seemed pointless to stay "pretend-sleeping". No one could possibly sleep through that unless they were knocked unconscious. But the children seemed to be hurrying, hence the little accident, anxious to put a smile on her face with their deluxe breakfast in bed menu.
So Tifa lay down on her bed again, staring up at the white ceiling.
She was counting the cracks that ran through it when her phone rang a small tune.
Tifa crawled over to her desk and flipped the phone open.
It was a text from Yuffie congratulating her on her birthday with a photo of a cake. Tifa could vaguely make out a golden claw in the background which was probably Vincent's way of saying "Me too".
She smiled to herself and flicked through to the next message she had missed.
The next photo had Barret at an oil field- he had scribbled "happy birthday" in oil on the dirt floor with a big thumbs up.
The next was Cid and Shera half the message was about Tifa's birthday the second half was about their newborn son. Cid turned out to be the biggest pushover when it came to his son. Admittedly the boy was a sweet little creature, but Tifa was out for some revenge over the many lectures she endured about "being too damn lenient with the kids."
The following messages were from old and small friends, acquantainces and business partners with whom she traded with. Nanaki never got a phone so he would probably be sending her a card sometime soon and the messages ended there.
Tifa took time to reply to each one, thanking them for their lovely messages then snapped the phone shut.
When she let out a big sigh, she surprised herself and mentally slapped her cheeks. There was a message she was missing (her mind was kind enough to remind her- damn it!), but she wasn't going to lament on that. It wasn't news to her that today went by without any sort of… event.
An event- if it was so magical to be called one- that proved he existed and was still alive. He usually simply came and went, and as time passed, he rarely even stopped by. Business was booming and with that came lengthy trips across the world and many, many missed calls. So it came to a point where it was easier if he continued to travel, picking up deliveries from multiple sources in each major city or town.
Besides, she was strong and capable. She didn't need to know he was out there and remembering that today 25 years ago she was born. She wasn't going to ask him or nag him about forgetting it either (who would!) because she wasn't a clingy person.
Clingy.
Tifa shuddered at the word. She couldn't be, could never be and would never be a clingy person!
She turned over on her side, watching the hand that held the phone with light curiosity.
What a strange device, she thought.
It was supposed to keep people connected and keep them from feeling clingy. But the fact was, it was working the other way- disconnecting people because you could stay together a mile away from each other and if it didn't ring, you'd be devastated.
Surely this had to be a trap of some sort.
She flipped the phone open and shut a few times, watching the screen glow and dim with every movement.
On the 25th flip, she stopped.
The epiphany that this "pining over a message" was pointless and, frankly rather stupid dawned upon her mind.
There really was no point in waiting for that one message. She had already received so many messages of celebration that was it honestly worth feeling gloomy about the one she missed?
She received messages from friends and acquaintances, she had two beautiful children downstairs making her breakfast in bed, and she had even yet to walk out of her room!
One socially awkward delivery boy was not going to ruin her day!
Putting on the biggest smile she could make, Tifa jumped out of bed making sure she was stomping hard enough for the children to know she was finally awake, and headed downstairs.
By the time she was halfway down the staircase, the children's voices were still hushed by much more urgent now; scrambling here to there to perfect Tifa's birthday meal across the table.
When she did reach downstairs, Tifa felt her heart melt.
Standing behind the table loaded with funny shaped eggs (covered in a mix of hollandaise and tomato sauce), clumsily cut apples and a slightly burnt piece a toast were her two children covered in a mess she did not want to know.
"What is this?" She asked, not even trying to lower her voice which had raised an octave in excitement.
"Happy birthday Tifa!" The children replied in unison with grins large enough to match the one gracing Tifa's own face.
"Oh, I can't believe it! Thank you so much!" Tifa kneeled on the floor, arms open wide and the children dashed into her waiting arms.
They hugged each other tightly (Denzel squirmed in teen-self-consciousness), cheeks pushed against each other.
Out of the corner of her eye, she could see all her different types of pans and knifes thrown in the kitchen sink and that the toaster had been left on.
But she would not tell them off for it because really, they had tried so hard and she could not believe that she had been caught up in her emotional "no messages" bubble that she had almost forgotten that she had these two treasures with her already.
So what if he didn't message and if he didn't show up?
Tifa had two children, cute as a button who loved her dearly. She had friends she called family and a house to live in. Her bar was a success, and compared to the days before where she thought she could start, this was a wonderful point to consider her life to have "begun".
Tifa wasn't clingy to begin with anyway.
So perhaps, today would be when her life begins; from when she turned 25. She was off to a great start to which her 10 year old or 15 year old or 20 year old self would hardly believe.
She didn't need him.
She wouldn't need him.
As Denzel began growling in teen-embarrassment, Tifa let the children go and watched them excitedly pull out her chair and eagerly wait for her to sit on it.
Tifa obliged, quietly slipping her hand in her pocket and switching the phone off in a silent declaration.
She was not clingy.
To be continued.