The Moon = Mystery and the Unknown
Nights on the mountains were always cool but this late into the season, when the nights held the possibility of early snowfall, it was almost unbearable away from the bonfires. Family gatherings were normally a very loud affair- full of laughter, a questionable amount of beer and liquor, and the occasional firework. Tonight there was little noise past the natural sounds of wildlife and the bonfire; any other noise came from inside and was almost too muffled to distinguish.
Aileen had secluded herself on the porch, half buried in the largest blanket she could carry. It nearly enveloped her, covering her blonde hair, and nearly making the nighttime chill tolerable. It smelled like her mother. Aileen shuddered and turned her gaze skyward.
The moon was already above the treeline, stars painting the blackness of the night. She could smell the woodsmoke on the breeze, lights from the house casting dappled shadows along the yard. Aileen tucked her legs closer under the blanket, resting her chin on her knees. If she listened she could still hear the ghosts of similar nights on the breeze. Nights shared with cousins and brothers, those special secret times that had been mother and daughter.
The porch squeaked and the blonde girl sighed. "You're not as sneaky as you used to be, Ren."
From behind her Ren chuckled softly. The noise sounding more habit than genuine. "Is that a wheelchair joke? Or a slight about my creaky joints?"
"Both," Aileen decided, turning her head to watch her cousin's approach. "I can't believe you let them put you in one of those."
"I didn't feel like arguing." The brunette situated her wheelchair next to Aileen, as close to the edge of the porch as she dared. Aileen arched an eyebrow and Ren gave her best impersonation of her usual grin. "Alright, it's good for sneaking contraband."
From the blanket on her lap Ren produced a can, popping the tab before handing it off to her cousin.
Aileen squinted, attempting to read the label in the poor light. "Beer isn't contraband."
"It is," Ren paused, opening a second can for herself. "When I'm not supposed to have it and you're underage." Another pause as the mechanic took a long drink. "Don't tell on me."
"You could've gone for the good stuff," the teenager mumbled, shifting the can in her blanket-covered grip. She sighed, turning her gaze skyward. Minutes passed between then in silence, familiar but not entirely comfortable. "Do you hate them now?"
Ren blinked, the beer can lifted halfway to her lips. "Uh?"
"The stars." Aileen clarified, watching the sky. "Do you hate them? After Shi-"
"We're not here to talk about me." Ren interrupted. Her words were quiet and soft but the edges were sharp.
The teenager frowned, sipping at her drink. For a moment she considered arguing. Of reminding her cousin that she had been in the hospital room when the news broke. Aileen's memories of the news about her mother were blurry- a mess of sounds and colors- but Ren's reaction to the Kerberos crash was clear.
No, that was a lie. If anything the news of her mother's death was to clear in Aileen's mind, too fresh. If pressed she could recall the scent of the room, but that wasn't what she wanted to remember when she thought of her mother. So she skirted the edges of the memories, treating the thoughts as if they would burn her. Let her forget.
"I don't hate them," Ren admitted, leaning on the arm of her wheelchair to look down at her cousin. "But they're different now. It's the same for you, isn't it?"
Aileen grimaced, setting the beer can down beside her. "It feels empty." The mechanic nodded, but said nothing. The blonde traced a finger around the rim of the still full can, tipping it dangerously to one side. "The house is full, everything is still here, but it feels empty. It's wrong. And...and I think I do hate it."
The blonde's eyes burned and she muttered a curse, scrubbing vigorously at them. Hot tears dotted her shirt sleeve and sliding down her cheeks despite her best efforts. Her breath hitched even as she squared her shoulders, still fighting the losing battle of emotions. Ren's wheelchair squeaked as the woman shifted, twisting herself at an odd angle to wrap her arms around her cousin as much as possible without tipping over. It was awkward and uncomfortable, likely for the both of them with Aileen half-squished against a wheel, but it was the best Ren could manage.
"It's okay to cry, Aileen."
"I don't want-" the teenager gritted her teeth as her voice cracked, unable to finish.
"Sometimes it's not about want." Ren said softly. "Sometimes it's about needing to. Not crying doesn't make you any stronger and bottling up your feelings helps no one. It's okay to cry."
There was a moment's hesitation, a last suborn effort, before Aileen finally allowed herself to cry. Ren ran her fingers through her cousin's hair as she cried into the blanket around her shoulders. It wasn't enough, it wouldn't ever be enough, but it was all Ren was capable of doing.
"What happens now?" The words were little more than a whisper, Aileen's worries escaping out into the night. Though her shoulders had stopped shaking, her voice was uncharacteristically delicate, cracking at the end of her question.
Ren turned her gaze skyward, considering. The stars glittered against the dark sky, almost peaceful. She couldn't pretend to know what they would face tomorrow. Everything that had seemed so certain, the constant parts of life, were gone. "We try."
That's all anyone could do in the face of an unknown tomorrow.