1.
Grandma Poppy insists on brushing your hair, and you let her. She smoothens your curls with her fingers, and takes a jeweled comb from the dresser. "Your father will be back soon," she murmurs, and you believe her for a while. "He's busy," she says, "Working. Your father has much to lose."
(But you know that all he has left to lose is his flask of wine and his pride.)
"One day, Lin," she turns your head to face her, "You will marry a strong man like your father."
It is the day you decide never to marry.
The man from the moon arrives that night, as he always did, a few days after the full moon. He compliments your hair, calls you pretty. "Just like your mother." And you ask him if he's real, or if he's a product of your subconscious, but he just laughs and says you spend too much time with Uncle Aang.
"How was your day, Lin?" He steadies himself on the ledge outside, and you swear that his hair is made of moonlight. Or maybe the empty space in between moonlight and darkness. (Perhaps the man is right, that you are spending too much time with Uncle Aang.)
"I don't want to marry anyone," you declare. Proudly. Defiantly.
He furrows his brows, "Why not?"
"My father is stupid."
He smiles, sadly, as if he means to agree.
When you wake up, you find your mother beside you. "What do you want for breakfast?" she asks, and you know your father has run off into some alley or another leaving a trail of broken glass in his wake. ("Careful," your mother says, "there's a bottle outside your door.")
"There's a man from the moon," you tell her, "He visited last night."
Toph's face tightens, but the expression soon bleeds into that of lukewarm curiosity. "What did he say?"
"He called me pretty," you beam, "My playmates have never called me pretty."
Your mother stays silent. (You do not realize that nostalgia burns like acid down her throat.)
You envelop her in a hug, "Did you see him, mother?"
"No," she says, and exits your room.
2.
Quan Sun returns home the day Poppy and Lao are buried. The Bei Fong estate is slowly falling into dilapidation, and you peel the paint from the walls and poke at the rotting wood while your father delivers his speech on the gilded dais.
"Poppy and Lao were like my parents," he says, "They loved me more than what I deserved. Their glorious legacy lives on in my beautiful wife, Toph, and our daughter, Lin."
He embraces you, as any dutiful father would, but you wiggle away. The mixed stench of drink and perfume disgusts you. "Stupid child," he grumbles, as you run toward the sea of people. Your mother is nowhere to be seen.
The faces in the crowd are alien to you, and they pay you no notice as you weave your way through. You catch snippets of their conversation ("Oh, my! Look at the house! How awful." "Did you hear about Quan Sun's enormous debt?" "I hear his drinking problem is much worse." "Toph Bei Fong was a fool for marrying him. She's grown weak.") and spot the man from the moon at the end of the never-ending room.
"You're here," you say, and you place your finger on his forearm, just to be sure, "You're real."
He places a finger on his lips, and motions for you to go outside. You follow him to the balcony, where you find your mother. She turns around, but the man from the moon is gone.
(Was he ever there in the first place?)
"Did you see him now?" you ask.
"No," she says, but her tone betrays her. I don't need to.
3.
"Did you pack all your things? We're not going back," your father says as you board the train. The Bei Fong estate (already in ruin, but in your mind it is still your castle, your mother's fortress) bleeds into fields and trees and turtle ducks. Soon, everything begins to blur. I forgot me, you think, I'm lost at home.
"Welcome to our new home," your father says, "Lin, help your mother unpack."
(But it is not a home. Only a series of rooms and doors and windows and floorboards and ceilings. Nothing whole. Nothing coherent.)
Toph lets you pick your room, and you choose the one with the large window at the farthest end of the hall. You place your trinkets in a box (your mother's space rock bracelet, letters from Tenzin, a strand of hair from the man from the moon, a broken bottle) and pretend to settle in.
That night, a waning gibbous moon smiles in the sky, but the man from the moon forgets to visit.
4.
"The man from the moon?" Tenzin asks.
"I don't expect you to believe me."
"I think I know who he is."
"Who?" you ask, eagerly, perhaps leaning too close to him.
He shakes his head, "Never mind, Lin. I'm sorry I brought it up."
That night, you burn Tenzin's letters.
5.
You finally see the man from the moon the afternoon Tenzin and Pema are getting married. You are a grown woman now, no longer holding onto an image of a father that never was (Quan Sun simply disappeared when you were in your teens, and you've never seen your mother so happy). The man from the moon moves towards you, and you've never seen your mother so happy.
"Council Member Sokka," she says. Civilly. (He frowns slightly, but embraces her anyway.)
"Sokka," you repeat.
"Hello, Lin," he greets you, and lets you join the hug.
Later, you pay your respects to the newlyweds. "Congratulations," you try to tell them, but the word won't form itself properly. You sound like you're choking, and Tenzin asks if you're okay.
(You do not see your mother and the man from the moon gazing at you, then at Tenzin. "It's the Bei Fong curse," they laugh, but there is no joy in their eyes.)
6.
Sometimes, when you look out your window and swallow Republic City with your eyes, you think of the man from the moon. Sometimes, you think of Tenzin and how you burned his letters. (But you always forget that you keep the ashes in a box underneath your bed.)