CHAPTER 21: SCARS
The dainty little curve of her smile was one thing that Cloud had long memorized.
There was a little gleam of excitement in Tifa's eyes as the waitress set her coffee down on the table in front of her. Cloud wished that he had the means to take her somewhere nicer for their two month wedding anniversary, but the little diner on the corner would have to do. Besides, he'd heard that this place had the best vegetable tempura in Sector Three. It was a dish that Lia Lockhart used to make (her grandmother's recipe), that gave little Tifa a delicious taste of her Wutaian heritage. He remembered how her mother would make it every year on her birthday. She'd bring the leftovers to school with a heaping helping of rice for lunch the next day and he'd watch her with mild fascination as she ate her treasured meal with chopsticks instead of a fork or spoon.
There were no chopsticks available at the diner, but it didn't matter. Their dialogue had been light and full of laughter, the dim lighting and dull murmur of the conversations of other customers provided a relaxed atmosphere. Cloud told her a funny story from last night's patrol duty and she shared with him her sudsy mishap with the electric washing machine. As Tifa told her story, he watched her carefully, for it always entertained him how she'd clasp her hands together in excitement before revealing the funniest part. He laughed when she finally did, more at her mannerisms than the tale itself. While they were struggling to try and make financial ends meet, Cloud couldn't remember a time where the two of them had really been happier. It was difficult and stressful to be away from their only blood relatives that were back in Nibelheim. But when it came down to it, being on their own fostered the growth of their fledgling marriage without fretting over outside opinions of their union. They were managing without the relief of a familiar setting, but there was a certain comfort in knowing Tifa in the intricate way that he did that made him feel at home.
With a smile, he watched his wife load her coffee with cream and heaping teaspoons of sugar. It was always exactly three scoops, he noted, and then she'd lazily stir and stir until she was satisfied. Cloud, who preferred hot chocolate, sipped his drink as her watched her cut the little round cake they'd ordered in half. A solitary candle sat on top, a bright little token of their modest celebration. When it came to martial arts and cooking, Tifa's hands always moved with delicate precision. But with most other things, she fumble with a sort of artistic clumsiness that always got the job done but in the most haphazard of ways. For a perfectionist like Cloud, it was as frustrating as it was amusing. His favorite part was watching the tip of her tongue stick out of the corner of her mouth as she worked, her eyebrows drawn together in concentration. Predicting her behavior before it happened was a little game he liked to play with himself. Tifa spooned his piece onto his plate and carefully stuck, a small glob of chocolate frosting sticking to her fingers.
"Happy anniversary, Cloud!" she grinned, taking her seat once again. "Let's make a wish!"
"Isn't that just for birthdays?"
"It doesn't have to be."
Cloud sat back and crossed his arms, pondering what it was he would wish for in this moment. Monetary security? A more suitable physique so that he could audition for SOLDIER? A cleaner, more spacious apartment for the two of them? He looked up at his wife, who smiled widely at him. The warm candlelight on her cheeks made his heart swell, for she was so beautiful on both the outside and the inside. Now that he had her, was there really anything else he needed? All of those other things would be nice, but Cloud knew that it was his friendship with Tifa that really made life worth living in the end.
"Alright, I have one. It's a small one."
She leaned in a little to listen. "What is it?"
"That we can come back here next month, just like this. And again the next month, and the one after that," he said. "I love this simple time with you."
Adjusting to their lives in a foreign place had been overwhelming and frightening and yet Tifa always seemed to hold onto her optimism. Cloud supposed that was one of the reasons he was so deeply in love with her: his employment barely provided them with the means to get by, yet she made the best of everything they had and didn't dwell upon all the things they went without. As he was growing up, he'd always felt like all of his faults and shortcomings were held under a microscope by the majority of the people he knew. Marrying Tifa and experiencing her unconditional affection for him had felt like finding a soft place to rest at the end of a long journey.
She grinned, resting her chin upon her hands. Her gaze was full of admiration and it made something warm pool in Cloud's chest.
"Go ahead, blow out the candle!" Tifa said, her voice full of mirth. "The simple wishes are the best kind."
Cloud sucked in a slow breath and blew, quickly extinguishing the little flame. He felt the hope within him swelling and rising, just as the tiny pillar of smoke that curled upward into the air.
… … …
Everyone was sore, exhausted and annoyed, making Cloud somewhat relieved to have separated from the others for a time.
Arriving in Wutai had been overwhelming for many reasons, the most pressing of which was Yuffie disappearing after stealing everyone's materia. Cloud had been quite angry at himself for being duped so easily and for trusting the girl enough to give her an unsupervised shift on the nightly watch rotation. It seemed like even the smallest of decisions could lead to devastating consequences, making his subtle paranoia crest and fall as often as tumultuous ocean waves. Without the aggressive magic of materia, battles against monsters had become quite dangerous and grueling. It was humbling to see how much they'd all come to rely on it to fight and troubling see how complacent they'd become with their healing materia now that they were without it. It was hard for Cloud to let go of his fear of letting AVALANCHE—and Gaia—down. These feelings were especially hard to cope with after everyone had been made aware of his less than stellar past and his great lie of being a member of SOLDIER.
After struggling to locate an apothecary, Cloud tried to make his way back to where he'd left his companions. AVALANCHE had settled near the outskirts of the city, resting beside the riverbank after losing track of Yuffie. He just wanted to be useful—to feel like he was being productive and making amends for having misled the others for so long—and so he took it upon himself to restock some much needed supplies.
The paper bag full of potions and other curatives crinkled as he hurried along the wide avenue, weaving his way through the bustling crowd. There were dozens of little carts along the street where people peddled their wares, endless shops and brightly colored banners and lanterns hung on thin wires that ran from rooftop to rooftop. While aesthetically pleasing, the layout of the city was confusing. Every sign was written in a foreign language with only a handful having a translation hastily painted underneath the Wutaian characters. A winding river twisted its way through the myriad of homes and businesses, making the four temples and a single giant pagoda the easiest way to navigate the city by landmark. Their bright red color and grand, sloping eaves made them impossible to miss as they towered high above any other structure and Cloud was thankful for an obvious way to get his bearings.
After pursuing Yuffie far into the city, she'd finally ditched them in the sweeping tide of people. It was with great frustration that he'd instructed AVALANCHE to sit and rest for a little while—hoping they could nurse their bruises and formulate a new plan to catch the traitor and resume their quest.
In the aftermath of his revelations in the Lifestream, Cloud still felt that he was floundering. It was as if he'd finally heard the freeing call of the open wind and crawled out of his cave, blinking and squinting into the sun. The warm light felt comforting upon his heart, yet illuminated all of the harrowing work that had yet to be done. It was Tifa's voice that had finally called him out from the grave, but now that he was standing on his own two feet again it was hard to hear her clearly. Ever since they'd pulled themselves out of the mako pool, shaking and coughing, things had been a little uneasy between them.
A man bumped Cloud's shoulder as he made his way past. Paranoid, he made sure his hands were in his pockets to prevent any further theft—an old trick from Midgar that he'd almost learned the hard way. Without the disguise of his fabricated bravado, Cloud felt like his sensitive soul was naked and exposed. The angry, ruthless world had stripped so much from him that he wasn't sure how much more could he stand to have taken from him. It didn't help to boost his shriveled confidence that people were staring at him as he walked along. His untamable blonde mane and vibrant blue eyes made him stick out like a sore thumb in the midst of a Wutaian city. And while ShinRA's war with Wutai had ended over a decade before, it was common knowledge that most citizens were still wary of outsiders.
The way they averted their eyes from him reminded him of the way Tifa often avoided his gaze. While always warm and friendly when they conversed, she'd been a bit spacey and shy lately. He'd watch her hug herself when she thought no one was watching—brow furrowed in what seemed to be confusion or uncertainty. Now that Cloud's memories were filtering back into his consciousness, he had realized something very disconcerting: when it came to her mannerisms, he barely knew Tifa at all anymore. The contents of his memory provided a completely different repertoire of behaviors than the ones she was displaying and it left him feeling lost. How was he going to resume his role as her husband if they occasionally still felt like strangers?
The labyrinth of twisting streets finally forced Cloud to submit to his own disorientation. Too embarrassed to ask for directions, he decided to take the long way back to the others by following the crude footpath along the water's edge.
The calming sound of rushing water encouraged him exhale. Was this really a reason to panic? Tifa wasn't going anywhere. With some effort, Cloud was certain things could be mended with time and delicate care. Had there ever been anything but determination in his heart? Before his life had descended into such a nightmare, he had always pushed with all his might to reach his goals: to be the best son he could be, to do well in school, to save Tifa from her abusive and bleak household, to become strong enough to make it into SOLDIER… The temptation to turn to self-deprecation surged within him. As hard as Cloud fought to break through into positivity, doubt remained lodged somewhere in the back of his mind and he couldn't pry it out no matter how hard he tried.` Perhaps time and the appropriate attention would help sort that out, too.
It was so beautiful here in Wutai. Cloud's eyes frequently strayed from the path ahead, taking in the atmosphere of a city that was so unlike Midgar in every imaginable way. There were no bland-faced sky scrapers as there were on the upper-plate, nor miserable, ramshackle buildings like the ones that crookedly stood in the overpopulated slums. Here, it seemed that everything had an aesthetic significance: the color and placement of plant life in the city scape, the intricate carvings or paintings adorning the entryways to businesses and homes, even the beautiful presentation of food in its serving dish. Cloud wished that he'd been able to take Tifa here under different circumstances, for one of her dreams had been to see as much of the world as she could. How ironic it was to be traveling around Gaia—seeing great frozen plains, humid tropical jungles and even the vast desert—when all they wanted was the safety of returning to normalcy again. It was hard to enjoy oneself while the fate of the world remained uncertain.
Tifa's mother was born in Wutai—a detail from his childhood that remained etched in his memory. Lia Lockhart's long, straight hair had been black as night. Her gentle, sloping eyes and perfect oval face had made her such an exotic beauty in their little mountain village. When he thought of Tifa's mother, peace always settled upon him, for she had been one of the only adults in his life that had paid him any mind. Even before he'd befriended little Tifa, Lia had always sent him off with some sort of candy or baked treat and told him how handsome and smart he was. Unaccustomed to such attention from anyone but his mother, Cloud had always blushed mightily and run off with both embarrassment and glee in his child heart. Some of the cookies and sweets Lia used to make were so different from his mother's; he hadn't understood at the time that it was because she'd grown up in a vastly different culture.
When he saw a familiar looking snack at a vendor's cart on his way back from the potion shop, Cloud just had to stop and buy his wife a pretty little pastry filled with red bean paste. It was shaped and colored like a dianthus flower. He knew she'd think it was too pretty to eat and would feel bad that he spent some of their gil on such a lavish little dessert, but inside she'd cherish his little act of affection. If being here had brought thoughts of Lia to his mind, Cloud was certain that Tifa was overwhelmed by her own memories and longing for her mother. Perhaps this little snack could soothe the parts of her heart that words couldn't.
Maybe it would make her smile that genuine smile that he missed more than anything. It was always her eyes that lit up first before the joy inside spread to the rest of her features.
Cloud rounded the river bend and felt his lips turn up at the sight of the others. Each one was busy with some sort of necessary distraction as they sat in the open, fussing with their backpacks on the grassy lawn beside the water. Here, at the city's edge, there was hardly any bustle at all; aside from the occasional passerby, it was a lonesome little area. Mako eyes automatically scanned for his wife, who was a handful of yards away from the group. Just as clouds can suddenly rise to cover the sun, a shadow fell over his heart when he spotted her kneeling at the water's edge, numbly washing their bedding. There was a little bridge behind her. It arced gracefully across the river, its lively red paint reflecting vibrantly in the lazy current of the water below.
Letting his steps slow to a halt, Cloud watched her for a minute and noted how easy it was to see the weariness of her heart when she thought no one was watching. Tifa took her time to wring the excess water out of the sleeping bag before carefully hanging it over the bridge's railing beside the rest of the bedding she'd cleaned. With a small sigh, she rested her elbows upon the hand rail and leaned forward slightly to watch the water dance along beneath her. In this moment, she reminded him so much of the melancholy girl he had risked everything to rescue from her father's house.
Swallowing hard, he wondered what it was she was thinking about. His own withered self-esteem told him that she was definitely regretting all of her life choices that had led her here. Although he knew that these thoughts were lies manifested from his own troubled self, Cloud couldn't help but feel his heart bleeding. The more he thought about how badly he wanted the old Tifa back, the more aware he became that this must have been how she was feeling about him this whole time. Craving connection and emotional intimacy with her overwhelmed him, but he was usually too afraid to initiate anything deeper than a light conversation. Most of this fear was the result of guilt, he was certain. The way he'd unintentionally abandoned her must've scarred her terribly, and it was in moments like these that the extent of her wounds was clear.
His body felt heavier than it had before. There was a little dread in his heart that tempted his feet to drag along when he finally decided to make his way toward her. How difficult it was to continue to face the sadness that continued to ripple out from their trauma! Cloud wanted to cheat. He wanted to skip to the end: where they could rest in their happy ending after the hard work of finding one another again. It was as if they had started over from the beginning—both of them were completely different than they were on their wedding day. It was exhausting to even think about rediscovering his spouse when all he wanted to do was take comfort in her now.
Had it really been so long since the days where they'd dream through all the noise, oppression and hardship? Believing in one another used to be so easy! With the strength of their youth they pressed forward against ever-stacking odds. Nowadays, Cloud felt like he no longer had the strength to find beauty and hope in the small things. He had a feeling that she didn't, either. Wasn't he was supposed to feel free now that he'd been set loose of his chains? Instead, the yearning for her patient heart bound his thoughts and held captive his ability to focus upon what could be done to remedy this. He had to discover how to once again cross the space between them. Tifa had always been the home to his fretful heart and troubled mind, protecting him from all the suffering that howled at them outside of the safety of their marriage. He'd give anything to reclaim the easy access to that security. It seemed that now, he had to work for it a first.
Tifa caught sight of him approaching, her face snapping upward in surprise when she realized he had returned. He watched her try and disguise the weariness upon her face with a welcoming smile. Instead of becoming discouraged, Cloud tried to remind himself that it wouldn't always be this way if they worked hard to change it. Quiet confidence and hope were laced in each step as he moved to join Tifa on the bridge and the gentile in his voice tried its best to make her feel safe in his presence. They barely touched shoulders as they spoke their sparse and shallow pleasantries. Cloud let the newfound shyness he sensed from her fascinate him, though the lack of twirling her hair and lack of blush dusting her cheeks confused him. Occasionally, those red eyes would pierce his own—filled with questions and intensity—before the water drew them back to it like a magnet's pull.
Cloud never thought he'd find them here, struggling for words to say. Though perhaps words were not necessarily needed to convey what was in his heart.
Curiously, Tifa watched him out of the corner of her eye as the crinkling of a paper bag broke the quiet between them. Excitement swelled inside him as he handed her the little confection, wrapped neatly in waxed paper. The delicate, sugary petals were dyed pink and purple with great artistic precision, making his wife smile in both amusement and awe. He watched carefully as multiple emotions fought for dominance upon her face before she finally closed her eyes. Gently, Tifa held the packaged little cake to her chest like a memory, and Cloud let himself press a small kiss to the crown of her head.
Instead of hiding and cowering, he wanted to be the Cloud of before: the one who always reached higher, even when life pulled him down to his ankles or pushed him to his knees. Their trip through the Lifestream made him realize that there really was no other safe direction to look than straight ahead. Fingers laced with Tifa's, he'd try his hardest to guide them back toward happiness. But what exactly was happiness, anyway? From a conceptual level, happiness seemed to be such a subjective, fleeting thing. Cloud remembered how joy had bubbled up inside him when Tifa first kissed him—hidden away amongst the dense trees of their mountain home. He could almost remember how light his heart had once been when he'd slump home after work his shift as a ShinRa trooper and tumble into her waiting arms. The smell of the food she'd cooked for him, the press of her weight against him as they cuddled together on their worn couch, the soothing sound of her voice they talked late into the night…
All these things had shown him happiness. Oh, how Cloud craved to feel alive like that again!
He smoothed a palm down her arm, instantly noticing the cool breeze off the water had caused goosebumps to form there. She was looking out to the water, watching the little ripples that the wind spread across the surface. Cloud waited for her to lean backward into him, expecting her to say something about the pastry, the scenery, or even her mother, for Tifa was never one to be comfortable with even a benevolent silence. Instead, she carefully tore her treat in two. It was almost as if his wife had been trapped in the dangerous limbo between shock and insecurity, and he wondered if she felt like a stranger in her own skin as he often felt.
There were few things that seemed light about her, from the heavy way her elbows rested upon the railing to subtle shifting of her weight from one foot to another. As sad as he felt that Tifa was struggling to come to terms with all that had happened, her unease didn't completely discourage him. Cloud knew how it felt to be dense and grey as a stone when everything inside him longed light as a feather and bright as the breeze. Preventing her from drowning in that emotion would drive him forward, for he wanted so badly to be her relief. He wouldn't back down. Instead, he would concentrate on seeing all those new sides of her that had emerged over their lost years.
She turned in his arms to offer half of her pastry to him with a funny little smile that didn't quite register in his catalogue of Tifa's repertoire. The strange tugging of her lips, the weighted pivot of her ankles as she turned and the slight tucking of her chin toward her chest…they all meant something, yet nothing to him. This coded language was a lover's secret lost in fragments and dust. Each tiny mannerism held its own wealth of meaning, but Cloud had lost the ability to decipher them. The girl of their youth had been like a well-worn map in which he had carefully marked and noted both trail and wilderness with elaborate detail. But Tifa was a new woman, now. Circumstances had changed her topography into something unrecognizable, making her a new territory to discover.
It was daunting to be a pioneer, but it could also be quite exciting.
Cloud let his hand wander down to gently grasp hers after she'd finished nibbling on her treat. The friendly little squeeze of her fingers was one familiar behavior and it prompted a smile upon his lips. There was so much to learn about her, and he was so behind, but he'd look upon the opportunity like the promise of a new horizon. Did she feel the same excitement about rediscovering him? Perhaps she was tentative about embarking on this new adventure because it held the possibility of more disappointment or hardship. He had been the same: refusing to trust his own feelings (because he was frightened by them) and instead of taking action, he had simply waited for the remedy to find him. It never had, and he felt that it might've been the biggest mistake of his life. Cloud had learned that inaction and cynicism had hidden away the part of him that could learn to quell suffering and bring about peace, and he refused to be stagnant despite fear of the unknown.
Besides, searching for her continuously helped to coax him out of his mental fog. One slow step at a time toward something that resembled normalcy was what he hoped for and making tiny little goals seemed to be manageable and realistic. Today's goal was to bring a real smile upon her face and he had managed to meet it. Cloud decided he would focus upon that.
With a few gentle words, he coaxed her off the bridge with the promise of finding some hot coffee. The pep in her step was small—yet detectable—and it gave him hope. Before, a heavy black shroud had held down his feelings and created a pillar for his daemons to reach him. He didn't want Tifa to make the same mistake. Together, they walked back into the city streets. It was refreshing to be able to pause in the midst of such a stressful pursuit to enjoy one another for a few fleeting minutes. It was a way to take a step back and remember what was important in the end. The years between them had spun outward like the rings of a tree trunk—growing further apart instead of closing in together, and he wanted to change that.
Somehow, they located a small café. It was pressed tightly between two large buildings with barely any sitting room inside. Little pots of bamboo and other plants crowded the window of the storefront and a tiny bell jingled as they opened the door to go inside. The smell of toasted sugar and espresso was pleasantly dense and the air was welcoming and warm. Tifa's cheeks had been colored pink by the chilly air of late afternoon, and she cupped her hands to blow hot air into them as they crossed the threshold. He searched for her in her silence, watching her hands closely. Those hands had held his own as they made their vows under the shade of mountain pines. They'd lovingly stroked his hair as they fell asleep in their cramped bed in the slums and cradled the tiny, perfect body of their stillborn. Her fingers had helped write the story of his youth and carve out the rehearsed routines their day-to-day life. Surely, they'd be there to help write their future and find their home.
Cloud wrapped an arm around her shoulder as the pair got in the short line to place their orders. When Tifa rested her head upon him and leaned her body into his, Cloud felt something inside him melt with a sort of pleasure he hadn't known for what seemed like a lifetime. His heart craved her warmth like a desert plant craves water, searching for those ruby eyes that burned like embers. He missed the feeling of her weight against him, for it kept him grounded and secure in his role. The trusting press of her body into his one-armed embrace reassured him that he was wanted and needed, which was really what Cloud needed to keep his mind on the right track.
It made him feel as if his little flicker of time on this planet was worth while. For the past few months he'd been in this world, but not really existing in it. Starting anew with a more enlightened sense of awareness was imperative, and it was about time that he made the decision to see life in a more truthful and positive color. Cloud could only pray it was what Tifa needed to start healing in her own time. For all of his toil, he may not exactly be the hero he wanted to be. But he wasn't exactly nothing, either.
When they stepped up to the counter, Cloud ordered a hot chocolate for himself as he fished some gil out of his wallet. Tifa's voice sounded quietly as she placed her order.
"One coffee, please. Black."