I wait until I am home to fall apart completely.
The house is full of flowers, as if to take up the space of those missing. Flowers of every kind: poesies, carnations, chrysanthemums, baby's breath, and lilies. I scoff; the only thing they do is make my eyes puffy. I want to smash them and rip the petals off one by one. I want to tear apart every card that came with them and set fire to the debris. I want to destroy every pathetic show of sympathy that fills up the hall.
But I don't. I simply make a cup of tea.
It was the fifth funeral in four days; the fifth final goodbye, and the hardest.
How could they leave me by myself? In one day I had lost my best friends, my siblings, my mentors, my parents; my family. It's more than a cup of tea can fix. It has been almost two weeks and the pain is still just as raw as it was when the telephone rang and I was coldly informed every person I cared about was dead.
I sip at my tea, looking for the familiar, soothing strength, but all I can taste are tears. I wipe my running nose with my sleeve and sniff.
It's my fault and my punishment. I have been acting like a scared child: content to believe it was all just a wonderful dream, a game. If I had any sense I would have been with them and I would not be alone now.
I have let myself down. I have let my country down. I have let Aslan down.
When Peter and I left Narnia for the last time, it stung. Aslan told us we had learned all we required and we were too old to return to Narnia. I never stopped hoping, though. I wanted so dearly to be home, away from the cold, sunless streets torn with war. I would pray every night to see Aslan's face or hear his voice: something to remind me and comfort me. But just like a moth that longs for the outside and is continuously met with only glass, a mere inch away from what is just wishing becoming real, the hope dies and you are left numb.
When Lucy and Edmund and Eustace, and then Jill came with their stories of Narnia and Aslan and all the wonders I was denied, I snapped. Who were these children, Jill and Eustace, to be allowed into my kingdom? Eustace, a boring, nasty little boy and Jill a plain and teary little girl allowed to speak with Aslan. Peter and I had reigned over Narnia for longer than Jill and Eustace were alive! It was like a smack in the face. I couldn't take it; it was injustice!
In my spite, I discredited them; it was pretending. And oh, how it stung them. But I was the one who was pretending, and in the end I hurt myself more than anyone else could have.
I became Susan Pevensie again; just Susan—a school girl; nothing extraordinary. And why should I be? It was a lonely existence being the estranged queen of an unheard of country. I dismissed my siblings, telling them what wonderful memories they all had, remembering such childish games. I denied them their titles. I made them senseless children. I discovered lipstick and parties and stockings. And what's wrong with that? It was the social frivolity I longed for. People adored me again. It was almost like being a queen. It's less painful than empty memories.
I dismissed them and they dismissed me.
"Who are you?" Ed yelled. "Who do you think you are?"
My eyes burned, "I'm Susan, Ed! The same Susan I've always been! Who're you to question me? Maybe if you made friends with your schoolmates, instead of Lucy and Peter you'd understand! There's life outside your head, Edmund! Face it, Narnia was a wonderful game but it's not real anymore! This is your home!"
He looked disgusted, "I don't know you anymore Susan. Can you look in the mirror at yourself and say those things? Can you look Lucy in the eyes and tell her she's just a silly child? You've lost who you are Susan Pevensie, but we haven't lost you. Please Susan, stop your game."
He squeezed back frustrated tears. I looked to Peter but he only shook his head, "Edmund's right, Su. Don't do this to us."
I heard the kitchen door slam as Lucy ran from the room crying and I shut my eyes tight.
I thought I was doing them a good turn. I thought I was bringing their heads back from the clouds and giving them tangible things to fill their days with. I was trying to save them some of the hurt.
Lucy and I could have done things that normal sisters do, like makeup and staying up late, and talking about boys and fashion. We had the opportunity to grow up again as normal children; children who didn't have a country to rule. Instead, all that Lucy spoke about was Narnia: how the sky looked, the brilliance of the stars, how she missed the beavers, Reepicheep, and the trees.
But now, there won't even be talks about that. I'll never hear her light voice again. I'll never hear Peter's golden laugh again. I'll never get to see Edmund's brilliant smile again.
They always teased me about being so sensible; Susan: the wet blanket, Susan: the logical one, Susan: the worrier. And now Susan: the lonely one. Now, everyone else sees me as a broken girl, the girl with no family, the girl who needs pity. They don't even know the half of it. It was because of Narnia they died. All of them: Peter, Lucy, Edmund, the Professor, Eustace, Jill, Aunt Polly, all dead because of some silly pretend land that denied us. Some silly fantasy I was a part of.
I fight back the angry tears once more. I see the looks I get: adults who pity me, the poor girl who lost everything. I haven't lost, I am lost. I've been lost.
Today at my brothers' and sister's funeral I wanted to scream. They should be mourning the loss of sovereigns, but they were just throwing them into the ground without rite. There should have been thousands of mourners! They should have been buried in red! The color of Narnia! The color of bravery and strength! The color of blood…
They died such a brutal death. There was no viewing; I could only lay my hands on the coffin of each and apologize to thin air. I wanted to see Lucy's face one last time. Just once see the smile and the laughing eyes. She was my best friend and everyone's sunshine in the dreary England weather. I hurt her and I never got to apologize.
It's surreal when you lose someone. It never really sinks in, it's almost like—like nothing at all; a dream. My reality has become this numb existence, I go about my life as if nothing has happened and that I'm not just barley glued together every morning by my Aunt.
"Put on some lipstick, Susan, there's a girl. You always did like it. Come on, chin up." She says bearing a tearful smile of her own. "No use wearing all black, you know none of them would have liked it." She says, tying a yellow ribbon in my hair.
She is so good to me and I am being selfish. She has also lost. She has lost a sister also— and a son— and still, she takes care of me, Susan: the selfish brat.
I feel sorely empty. I bang my cup on the table, "It's not right!" Luke warm tea slops over my hands, staining them.
The family cat gives me a look. "I don't suppose you have anything to say." I sneer. He continues staring at me, then turns on his heels and leaves the kitchen. "Well fine!" I yell after him. I set my cup in the sink. "I'm going to bed." I mumble to no one in particular and, surprising myself, head for the stairs instead of the sofa.
Though I have walked the trek a thousand times, it shakes me to core to climb the stairs and cross the hall. Most nights I could see a flashlight shining through the crack under the boys' door, and hear a whispered, "Susan? Susan quick! Come in!" from Lucy who had already snuck out to be with her brothers.
Now, it's silent and I don't like it. They boys' door is open tonight and their room looks just as it always did: cream walls and two beds, each with matching blue duvets. Peter's bed is pristinely made, while Edmund's is thoroughly rumpled. The wooden nightstand between the beds still holds their unwashed tumblers and Edmund's writing book.
I pick it up and flip through the familiar handwriting and heartfelt, though artistically lacking, sketches. I light upon his last entry:
Today we are meeting Lucy, Eustace, and Jill as well as the Professor and Aunt Polly. Peter and I have got the rings and we are going to give them to E. and J. I do wish Susan would come along also. Mum and Dad are coming home that day and we are sure to meet up with them at the train station. I think it may do her good to see everyone anyway. She's been especially rotten lately and-"
I shut the book, the burn behind my eyes returning.
"I'm so sorry." I say softly, touching his pillow. There's nothing else I can say; just sorry. How pathetic.
Sorry can't ever fix it.
I move on.
My parents' bedroom door is closed, but I brace myself and push it open. It smells just like Mum's perfume and father's cigarettes. It smells so familiar it hurts. I half expect to see my mother at the mirror brushing her hair and Dad having one last smoke before bed, his hand sticking out the window, dressed in his bathrobe. I need my parents. I want to go bury my head in the pillows and cry.
I shut the door softly and hesitate before turning to the door opposite it. It is my room, though I haven't slept in it for two weeks. I couldn't bear the thought of sleeping across from an empty bed.
It's just like we left it: impeccably clean, powder pink walls, and white flowers. Lucy's stuffed rabbit stares at me from her pillow. I feel like it's asking where Lucy is. Silently asking me what I've done with her. Why there's no one to cuddle it at night anymore.
I gather it up in my arms and inhale, shaking. It smells like her. Its velvet nose is rubbed threadbare from 17 years of the kisses Lucy has placed there. I gently sit on my bed, still hugging the rabbit, and stare at the empty pillow and the flat quilt.
My eyes slowly tire and I have to close them.
When I open them again it is very bright.
I have to shield my eyes to see anything; not that there is a lot to see. It's a field.
But the sun is warm and the grass is soft and I don't feel so bad, so I stay lying down. My mind is completely clear and relaxed. There aren't any stray thoughts flying through it, no worry, just registration of how nice the sun feels and how comfortable the ground is. A warm breeze tickles my nose and I close my eyes again, stretching up.
It's bliss. It's far, far away from the anxiousness and the buzz of too much activity. It is peace.
A stronger gust blows directly in my face blowing my hair back and when I open my eyes in panic, I see that it was not the wind at all, but a breath. I sit up, finding myself staring back into the warm amber eyes of a lion.
I sit for a long time, staring. The breeze continues. The sun shines. I don't feel time passing. I don't feel my heart beat. My entire being is staring.
"Aslan." I finally say, and throw my arms around his neck, burying my face in his mane.
"Susan." He rumbles gently, and the mere sound of my name sends me back to all the emotions I can't cope with.
I feel fear and sadness and anger and I feel the tears welling up in my eyes. I let go of him and sit back in the grass, ankles tucked under me. I wait for him to say something; anything. But he doesn't. I look fearfully back into his wise brown eyes expecting to see disappointment or anger but I don't. I see a look so deep, I'm not sure I can comprehend it.
"I'm sorry."
I wait, he continues staring.
"I'm sorry!" I say, louder this time. "I'm sorry I lied, I'm sorry I was afraid, I'm sorry I couldn't be brave! I lost my country forever—you took it away!" I'm shouting now, avoiding His eyes and looking up at the sky, because I know I'm acting shamefully. "It was unbearable; like a—a hole right here." I say pointing at my chest. "How could someone deal with that pain? It crushes you! " I struggle to say more and bite back my angry tears. "And now…" I gasped, "Now you've taken my family! Everyone I love. I have nothing. I have nothing left because of you." I collapse to the ground, pressing my face into the grass in front of Him. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry." I say it over and over again until the words stop coming.
Then I lie there, breathing in the sweet smell of the meadow for a long time. The tears gradually slow and I feel His eyes still on me.
"Sit up, Queen," comes His echoing voice at last.
I obey, wiping grass and tears and shame off of my face. He presses his tongue to my forehead.
"It is true you have forgotten me, but I have not forgotten you. I have watched as you acted out of fear and resentment, manners unbefitting of a queen. You have forgotten who you were and who you are meant to be; because of this you were not called with your siblings. Your journey will now be longer than theirs, but have faith; you are not the only one to have lost. " He sighs sadly, "Dear One, you can never fix what has passed. You can only have the future." He says this with finality and I know he will not explain any further.
I nod. How much longer? What must I do? I want to ask, but in know in my heart, I already have the answers.
Aslan turns his great head and smiles. "Here they come."
"Who?" I ask uneasily and look where he is looking. Three figures are making their way towards us. My heart beats against my chest powerfully. I half stand trying to see better.
"Susan?" shouts one of the trio, "Susan!" The smallest figure breaks into a run, the other two following.
I know who it is. I spread my arms wide for her and she runs into them, "Susan you're here!" She cries into my shoulder.
"Lucy." I say, hugging her tight to me. I push back her hair and kiss her forehead, "Lucy."
Edmund and Peter are standing over us now, grinning from ear to ear. I let Lucy go and stand. "Peter!" I cry, throwing myself into his arms. He hugs me and presses his forehead to mine. I turn to Edmund, "Ed." He nods and I embrace him as well. Lucy wriggles between us, and Peter squeezes us all. We all laugh in euphoria. There's no tense air between like before. It's over. It's how it's supposed to be.
"Aslan!" Lucy exclaims, noticing Him for the first time, and runs to bury her hands in His mane. Edmund and Peter kneel before him. I stand watching. Lucy looks at me and back to Him. "Is she staying, Aslan? Is she here for good? Will we be together again?"
Aslan shakes his head, "No, Dear One. Not yet."
"But when?" Edmund asks.
"In time."
Peter nods, "Come to us soon, Susan. Your throne at Cair Paravel is waiting for you."
Lucy takes my hand and squeezes it, looking up at me, "Come on." She takes off through the field away from Aslan and I follow behind her laughing. Edmund and Peter join us, and soon enough we're just lying in the grass together chatting like we used to. Lucy is weaving a primrose and grass circlet to put in my hair. "Think of how wonderful it will be seeing your crown back where it belongs."
I tap her nose and she scrunches it giggling. "I hardly deserve it," I say.
Lucy sits up suddenly, sobered, "Don't you say that Susan Pevensie; Don't you dare." She takes my hands and looks straight into my eyes, "Once a Queen of Narnia, always a Queen of Narnia."
"Even someone who deserted her country? Even someone who gave up on her family?" I choke on the words.
"You were hurt," Peter says very plainly.
I take my hands from Lucy's grip and wipe my eyes with the back of my hand.
"We never gave up on you, Su. We've always been here, and we always will be. We love you." Edmund assures me.
We lie silently for what seems like an eternity. I, leaning against Peter and Lucy snuggled up to me while I stroke her hair and Edmund's hand entwined in mine.
Suddenly, Lucy speaks, "Susan?"
"Yes, Lu?"
"I think you have to go back now." She says quietly.
"I don't think I'm ready yet." I reply, frightened. I've only just got them back, I can't leave now.
"You are," encourages Edmund.
"Well I don't want to." I whimper.
"You can't stay here," Peter says, "You have to go back; if only for now. I promise though, one day, we'll all be together again forever."
In that moment, I realize how much I've missed my big brother. How I've needed him to hold me and tell me everything was going to be okay. How I wanted him there to make everything better.
I feel something tugging at me, and I know they're right: it's time for me to leave. I unwillingly kiss each of them goodbye, taking in their faces one last time. Lucy is last and I hold on to her for as long as I can, refusing to let go, even as I feel her slipping away. She quickly presses something into my hand and whispers a hurried, "We love you."
A sudden rushing noise sweeps the last traces of her words away. I cover my ears in panic and squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block it out. As the noise reaches an almost unbearable crescendo it abruptly stops.
I open my eyes in surprise and sit up quickly. I inventory my surroundings. I am back in my bed, still clutching that stupid rabbit. I sigh in misery. It was a dream. Just a meaningless disappointing dream…
I feel my nails digging into my palm and as I unclench my aching hand, I feel something fall out. I hold my breath, drop the rabbit, and hurdle out of bed to turn on the light. I frantically fling the blankets around, and finally spot it: a crumpled primrose, the exact shade of purple as the ones in the field.
Gingerly, I pick it up, spinning it slowly between my fingers and I laugh for the first time in weeks. Lucy knows me too well.
"Thank you," I say and press it to my heart.
My hope has been restored. I feel it bubbling up inside of me.
The damage runs too deep in my heart to be solved by simple forgiveness, for forgiveness is one sided. I must come to accept the forgiveness in time. I must learn to let the truth back into my life and become the woman I once was. I am still just a shadow of her. However, I am prepared for this new journey and I look on it with no fear because, no matter how long it takes, I know that I will return home one day and my family will be there waiting for me.
And that's enough.
A/N:
I know this has been done countless times before, but I also feel like Susan gets a lot of undeserved attitude so here's my take on the whole 'growing up and forgetting' situation.
Yay for no transitions and sucky dialogue!
I haven't written in ages. Of course when I finally do it's the Chronicles of Narnia, of all things.
I apologize for this; it's my first story in this fandom. Feel free to tear it apart. I revised a ton, because I wanted it to be good, but every time I read it, I hated it more.
So I want your honest opinion. Please. Let me know how I did.
Also, after writing this I found out that in the flower world, a primrose means 'I can't live without you'.