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Notes: Written for the ff_friday drabble community weekly challenge on live journal. The community allows works to be up to 1000 words long. That week's theme was childhood.
"What do you want to be when you grow up?" the teacher says, and Inara remembers.
She remembers answering the door. "Inara," her mother scolded, as she walked up behind her. "I told you not to open the door without ask—" Mother had stared and grabbed Inara so hard that she could hardly breathe.
The stranger at the door had taken off his hat. "He fell, ma'am."
She remembers being patted on the head a lot. Her mother looked lost and tried not to cry as she thanked people for coming. Inara tried to put her arms around her, but Aunt Lin stopped her. "Don't bother your mother now, dear. Come into the bedroom, I'll brush your hair."
Aunt Lin sat on the bed and Inara on the floor. The brush swept gently through the tangled hair. Aunt Lin's hands were gentle even as they began to shake. At first, Inara thought that she was crying. Aunt Lin's breath was warm against her ear. "You look so much like my brother," she had said. Even in anger her voice was soft. "I hope you never have to work for anyone but yourself."
She remembers Aunt Lin's bruises. Inara and her mother walked her to the ship that would take her far away to the rim where her husband would never find her. "You should come with me," Lin had said. Inara's mother shook her head and shivered with fear of the unknown. "Why would anyone ever leave Sihnon?"
She remembers the Festival. Tourists from all over the Alliance. Companions in silk with easy smiles, laughing that they had eaten too much. The long hours her mother worked at the factory bought just one plump dim sum for the two of them to share.
"What do you want to be when you grow up?" the teacher asks again. Inara remembers and opens her mouth: "Independent," she says.
The End