Rifiuto: Non Miriena
"I don't get it, Jo. I thought your mom was dead."
"She is." Jo whispered, tears beginning to form in her eyes. She turned to look at him. "She died not long before my recital. I'd just turned seven." Zane nodded in understanding, his gaze going back to Mrs. Lupo.
"What did she-"
"Ovarian cancer. Refused chemo, wanted to die at home, surrounded by her family. Dad was never the same." She swallowed, before taking a step into the living room. Zane followed a moment later. She looked around, seeing the family photos on the mantle, the books on the shelves, the old rocking chair. Slowly, she turned, taking in her mother's raven hair and dark eyes. She looked frail; a living skeleton of the woman she'd once been.
Taking a deep breath, she reached out, yearning, starving to feel her mother's skin beneath her fingers. The desire that surged through her had built up ever since her mom died. Jo had given up dance not long after her mom's funeral. She had struggled with the terms of her mom's death for years, burying herself in work, throwing herself into the Army, with very little thought to how it would affect her or those around her. But when she reached to brush her fingers along her mother's arm, the motion shot her back, throwing her into Zane. He caught her, holding her steady.
"I don't think you were supposed to do that." He said, looking down at her. She looked up at him, a stunned expression on her face as she pulled away. She shook her head, taking a step closer. "Jo, don't."
She didn't respond, instead, she sat on the edge of the chair and watched herself dance for her mother. She watched her mother smile, heard her childish chatter, saw her brothers rush in, distracting her mom.
"Ricco, don't! I'm dancing for Mommy!"
She couldn't help chuckling softly as she watched herself stamp her foot. When her mother turned her head, she stopped. The woman looked around, as though sensing another presence in the room, and Jo reached back, grabbing Zane's arm. He put a hand to her hip, an action that brought comfort to her and she got up, backing away until she was in Zane's arms again. He pulled her away, until Jo and her mom were only within earshot.
"Did you-" He nodded.
"Yeah, I caught that." He thought a moment. "From what I can figure, you're reliving your memories- or will be. And you can't touch the people in the memories, or say anything, otherwise they hear you. It's almost like... you're supposed to be watching through an observation window, and if you say anything, it's... residual. Like a ghost."
Jo listened, before turning to look back at her mom. "Why only my memories? What about yours?" He shrugged.
"I don't know."
After a moment, she returned to the memory, settling on the arm of the chair and watching silently as she talked with her mom, curled into her side. She swallowed.
This was the last really happy memory she had of her mom.
"She was pretty." Jo nodded.
"Yeah, she was."
"Like you." She looked up at him.
"What do you mean?" He looked from her to her mother and back.
"You look like her. Same dark eyes and dark hair. Same beautiful olive complexion. Same smile. I can see why your dad fell in love with her."
She listened, turning back to her mom, her dark eyes drinking in every last detail of her mother and committing it to memory. After a moment, she nodded. "Yeah, so can I."
"There are my girls." Both Jo and her mom looked up; Colonel Lupo entered the living room and took a seat in the arm chair.
Jo quickly got off the arm, backing away.
"What have you been up to?"
"I danced for Mommy, Daddy!"
"And she did wonderfully. She'll be the prettiest ballerina in the recital." Her mom said, beaming down at her daughter.
"You'll be there to watch me, right Mommy?" Jo asked, looking up at her mother.
Jo reached up, wiping the tears off her cheeks. Her younger self missed the look her parents shared, but she didn't. Her heart broke again as she now realized what that look had been. A hand on her back caused her to turn, and she looked into Zane's blue eyes.
"You okay?" She nodded, burying her face in his chest, her arms going around him.
"She died that Sunday. My recital was the following Tuesday." Jo choked out against his chest. He wrapped his arms tight around her, tangling his fingers in her ponytail.
"I'm so sorry, Jojo." He whispered. She clung to him, and he watched as the image faded, before pressing a kiss to her hair. When she pulled away to look at him, he reached up, brushing the tears off her cheeks. "You gonna be okay?" She nodded, leaning up to brush her lips against his. A spark ignited, and she pulled away, pressing her fingers to her lips.
"That hurt."
"Sorry, didn't mean to shock you." She rolled her eyes.
"Shut up." The sound of footsteps reached their ears, and Zane pulled away, his hand lingering on her waist as he moved to where Jo's memory had once been. "Zane? What is it?" But he ignored her. She followed, stopping beside him.
"Zane, what did you do!"
"Nothing!"
They watched as a young woman grabbed a boy's arm and yanked him into the kitchen, forcing him to take a seat on one of the barstools. She pulled out a letter and handed it to him.
"What did you do?"
"Nothing! I swear!"
Jo turned to Zane. "So that's why those four words are so familiar to you. You've been hearing them your entire life." He rolled his eyes and glared at her. "I know that's you, but... who is she?"
"My mom." Jo's eyes widened and she turned to him.
"Really?" He nodded.
"I'm going to ask this one last time, and you better tell me the truth, Zane Matthew. What did you do?"
The boy was silent for several minutes, before,
"Crashed the New York Stock Exchange."
