My heart raced in my chest, but I was too stunned to move. It took
everything in me to push myself away from the window and shove the heavy
wooden door to the little shop open. Inside it was musty, damp, and dark,
and I could see cobwebs in the corners of the room that hadn't been touched
in years. She had turned off the lights in an effort to hide herself from
me, but I knew that she was still there; there was no other way out except
through the front door.
I fumbled around in the dark, tripping over various antiquities that were strewn about the floor. Tiny iron baby cradles and little wooden rocking horses caught my eye, and I swallowed back the lump that was choking me. A gold plated tuba with water stains marring its embossed surface jumped out in front of me while my attention was turned away from the ground before me, and I fell, landing hard on my hands and knees. For a moment I didn't move. The rough, gritty cement and tile floor scratched my palms and it stung, and I forgot what I was searching for for a second. But as I lifted my head, my neck creaking softly, I locked eyes with her, and it all flooded back into my memory.
She crouched in the shadows, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees as she gnawed on her wrist. I could see the reflection of the crescent moon in her dark irises; I could see myself. The smock that fell loosely around her thin shoulders covered an off-white dress that was fraying at the edges, but still made her look more like an angel than a human being. Her hands were soft, the skin dusted with blonde hair that made her glow even more brightly than she had in the window. She didn't move, just blinked back her fear and continued to gnaw. We remained in that position for what seemed like an hour, her squatting near the ground, the hem of her skirt trailing in the dust, and I on my hands and knees, watching her. Then she lifted her chin for a brief moment, and I heard her tiny voice.
"They told me that you'd come," she whispered, and then returned to devouring her arm.
My breath caught in my throat, and I nearly choked on my words before they could escape past my lips. "Wh-Who.?" I pulled my legs underneath me and sat down on the dusty floor, scooting closer to her. She was so frightened, and all I wanted to do was hold her, dry her tears, tell her that everything would be okay. I wanted to be a mother to her, to show her all the love that I had never been able to give my child, and I didn't even know who she was.
"Them," came her weak reply, as she nodded toward the ceiling. "Up there. The Elders." Her shoulders relaxed slightly, and she allowed herself to sit down with me. The tears began to well up in my eyes as the million tiny puzzle pieces fell into place, and her slender body leaned up against my own. "They told me you'd come, but they never told me how beautiful you were."
I wasn't sure how, or why, but my baby had come back to me. For the longest time I had felt an empty hole where heart had been, but it returned to me, and I could feel it bursting from my chest. I wrapped my arms around my grown daughter and held her tightly, as though I wanted to make sure that it wasn't all a dream, that she was really sitting there with me, in the dark, in the dust. She didn't fight me, she didn't even wince as I squeezed her, and cried into her chestnut hair. All she did was return my death grip, her arms around my waist and her head rested in my lap, whispering her misplaced apologies.
"I'm sorry.please, I'm so sorry."
I didn't know what to say. There were no words left inside me to describe how I felt. It was as though the past month and a half had been erased and filled again to overflowing by these five minutes in a darkened antique shop.
"Shh. baby, no. Don't be sorry. not ever. I love you so much." I could feel her heart pounding against my side, loud and rhythmic, and I knew that this was real. There was no cosmic vision, no midnight hallucination that would evaporate and pull me back into my miserable reality; this was reality. My daughter, however grown, wrapped in my arms as though we had never been apart.
"Mom." her voice was unsteady, tasting the bittersweet word as she murmured it. "Mom. I don't ever want to leave you." Her grip loosened and she crawled into my lap as though she was still small enough to do so, like she was four years old and ready for a nap. Her head leaned against my shoulder, and she closed her eyes.
"You'll never leave me again, I swear it," I trembled with the words, fumbling for a comforting answer to her heartfelt plea. "Nothing will ever pull us apart. You're not going anywhere, I promise."
I felt her fingers dig into my arm. "If only that were true."
My heart collapsed into my stomach, and I feel the acid rising in the back of my throat. I fought back the wave of nausea and lifted her chin to look in her eyes. They were so perfect, two identical dark pools of innocence that told so many stories which I could never decipher, but filled with a pain that I knew she didn't understand. I knew it all too well. "You won't leave. I can't lose you again. We'll figure something out."
Melinda shook her head in dismay. "No, I can't. I can't. They told me that you needed help, and that I was the only one who could help you."
It wasn't fear that gripped my heart; not pain, not sorrow, but anger. They, the Elders, had interfered again, sent my daughter back to me only so they could pull her back right when I thought that I would never lose her. They ruled over our lives like some sort of demi-gods, but they weren't my gods, and I would not pay them homage like a peasant before a golden calf. My insides burned with rage and I wanted to lash out, kick something, punch in a wall, but she was holding me so tightly. It was apparent that she didn't want to leave any more than I wanted her to. "They can't take you away. I won't let them. It's not fair, sending you here and then ripping you away. I'm sick of all this tug-of-war with higher powers; the witch always loses. I'm better off dead than living without you."
There was a pause, and she squeezed me. "I know why they sent me now, Mom. I know why I agreed to come." Melinda let go of my torso and sat up straight, then looked directly at me, unblinking. She was different in every other way, but her eyes still held the wonder and curiosity of the newborn that I had held in my arms just a short time before. She was calm as she spoke, choosing her words wisely. "I don't remember growing up, with the Elders. I don't remember being five or eight or eleven. I just was. I do remember, however, being alive. I remember being with you, in your arms, and feeling so warm, so safe. I remember the song you sang me, the one that your mother sang to you, and the song that you played me every night to rock me to sleep. The same song that I played to help you find your way here.I was only with you a short time, but it was our time. I can't let you live like this, hiding from a life that you created because of me. You're not remembering the things we did, the few precious things that made me yours, and you mine. Until you remember them, until you can hold them in your memory and in your heart, you won't be able to do anything for me or yourself. It will only get worse, Mom. Please, don't let it get any worse than this."
Her words picked away at me, pulling me to a place that I hadn't wanted to go. I could feel the wall around me crumbling, cracks forming in its once solid surface. If I let it fall, if I stopped hiding form the world as she asked, then she would leave, and again I would be alone. Without her, without Leo, without myself. I wasn't going to let that happen.
"I can't do it," I muttered into my hands. "I won't just let it all disappear, as though it never happened. Because it did happen, dammit, and there's nothing that will ever let me forget that my child was taken form me. You can't ask me to. It's too much."
"No one's asking you to let it all disappear."
The voice behind me was rough and smooth, calm and frightened all at the same time. I didn't have to turn around in order to know who it was. "Leo."
Melinda lifted her fragile head and looked up at her father with adoration. "Hi, Daddy." I turned then and saw him, his clothes looking just as unkempt and disheveled as mine. His eyes were dusky, his face pale, and lines were beginning to etch themselves into his strong forehead.
"Hey, sweetie," he said, forcing a smile. His eyes gave away his true feelings, and I could see tears glistening in their corners. He stared at her lovingly, like any adoring father would, and rested a hand on my shoulder. Despite my fear that he might still blame me, my entire body relaxed at his touch. I felt his fingers through my shirt, not digging in, but pressing in a reassuring way, as though he wanted me to know that he was there, and he wanted to feel me there for him in return.
"Leo, I-"
"Don't," he squeezed my shoulder gently without reproach, but never took his eyes off of our daughter. "Let her finish. You need to hear this."
I closed my mouth and looked back at Melinda. She was crying, the salty streams trickling over her porcelain cheek, but she didn't flinch. Her face was calm as the tears flowed, and her hands were still as they rested on top of mine.
"It wasn't your fault," she continued, her thin fingers wrapping themselves like vines around my wrists. "I know that, Daddy knows that. The only person who doesn't is you."
I cringed, my teeth grating together so loudly that I thought my molars woild spring from my gums. "But if I hadn't taken my time, if I had just gotten up when I heard you the first time, maybe you'd-"
"It wouldn't have made a difference," she cut me off with a sigh. "Fate never meant for me to be with you that long. I know that now. It was an unintentional lesson, a test of your strength, your courage, and most of all, your love." Melinda glanced up at her father and took his free hand. He knelt down beside me, and could feel the warmth radiating from his body. He leaned against my shoulder, his hand still on my arm, and knew that he didn't blame me anymore. Maybe at first, but there was something about his face that told me that he knew something I didn't. He knew what had been planned, what had been foreseen for us and our child was out of our control. He knew that she had to go, even though he loved her so much.
"It wasn't my fault," I repeated slowly, rolling the words around in my mouth.
She shook her head. "No."
"It was a lesson. A test." The realization that I had been puppet once again in Their twisted little show filled my thoughts. A puppet with knotted strings.
"Don't look at it like that," Leo pleaded. I could almost hear his twisting the same idea around in his head, and I knew that he hated it just as much, if not more, than I did. The Elders had destroyed our lives one time too many. "They never meant for it to be this way. If they had known that she was going to. you know, so soon, they wouldn't have sent her to us at all. It was an accident, a terrible mistake in the readings of the Old Books. Don't turn your back on them, on your calling, because of this, because you hate them. Let us help you. Let me help you." I buried my face in my palms and refused to look up. My head pounded in time with my racing heart, and I could feel the blood rushing to my temples. A surge of emotions filled me until there was nothing in my head but a mixture of feelings that blinded me and shoved all rational thought from my mind. It was as though someone had broken a dam inside of me, allowing everything that I had kept hidden, everything that I had suppressed, to flow free in full force, until there was nothing left of me but an empty shell. I had nothing inside to give them, nothing to tell them or show them that I knew I needed help. So I remained there, my head in my hands, and cried.
I fumbled around in the dark, tripping over various antiquities that were strewn about the floor. Tiny iron baby cradles and little wooden rocking horses caught my eye, and I swallowed back the lump that was choking me. A gold plated tuba with water stains marring its embossed surface jumped out in front of me while my attention was turned away from the ground before me, and I fell, landing hard on my hands and knees. For a moment I didn't move. The rough, gritty cement and tile floor scratched my palms and it stung, and I forgot what I was searching for for a second. But as I lifted my head, my neck creaking softly, I locked eyes with her, and it all flooded back into my memory.
She crouched in the shadows, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees as she gnawed on her wrist. I could see the reflection of the crescent moon in her dark irises; I could see myself. The smock that fell loosely around her thin shoulders covered an off-white dress that was fraying at the edges, but still made her look more like an angel than a human being. Her hands were soft, the skin dusted with blonde hair that made her glow even more brightly than she had in the window. She didn't move, just blinked back her fear and continued to gnaw. We remained in that position for what seemed like an hour, her squatting near the ground, the hem of her skirt trailing in the dust, and I on my hands and knees, watching her. Then she lifted her chin for a brief moment, and I heard her tiny voice.
"They told me that you'd come," she whispered, and then returned to devouring her arm.
My breath caught in my throat, and I nearly choked on my words before they could escape past my lips. "Wh-Who.?" I pulled my legs underneath me and sat down on the dusty floor, scooting closer to her. She was so frightened, and all I wanted to do was hold her, dry her tears, tell her that everything would be okay. I wanted to be a mother to her, to show her all the love that I had never been able to give my child, and I didn't even know who she was.
"Them," came her weak reply, as she nodded toward the ceiling. "Up there. The Elders." Her shoulders relaxed slightly, and she allowed herself to sit down with me. The tears began to well up in my eyes as the million tiny puzzle pieces fell into place, and her slender body leaned up against my own. "They told me you'd come, but they never told me how beautiful you were."
I wasn't sure how, or why, but my baby had come back to me. For the longest time I had felt an empty hole where heart had been, but it returned to me, and I could feel it bursting from my chest. I wrapped my arms around my grown daughter and held her tightly, as though I wanted to make sure that it wasn't all a dream, that she was really sitting there with me, in the dark, in the dust. She didn't fight me, she didn't even wince as I squeezed her, and cried into her chestnut hair. All she did was return my death grip, her arms around my waist and her head rested in my lap, whispering her misplaced apologies.
"I'm sorry.please, I'm so sorry."
I didn't know what to say. There were no words left inside me to describe how I felt. It was as though the past month and a half had been erased and filled again to overflowing by these five minutes in a darkened antique shop.
"Shh. baby, no. Don't be sorry. not ever. I love you so much." I could feel her heart pounding against my side, loud and rhythmic, and I knew that this was real. There was no cosmic vision, no midnight hallucination that would evaporate and pull me back into my miserable reality; this was reality. My daughter, however grown, wrapped in my arms as though we had never been apart.
"Mom." her voice was unsteady, tasting the bittersweet word as she murmured it. "Mom. I don't ever want to leave you." Her grip loosened and she crawled into my lap as though she was still small enough to do so, like she was four years old and ready for a nap. Her head leaned against my shoulder, and she closed her eyes.
"You'll never leave me again, I swear it," I trembled with the words, fumbling for a comforting answer to her heartfelt plea. "Nothing will ever pull us apart. You're not going anywhere, I promise."
I felt her fingers dig into my arm. "If only that were true."
My heart collapsed into my stomach, and I feel the acid rising in the back of my throat. I fought back the wave of nausea and lifted her chin to look in her eyes. They were so perfect, two identical dark pools of innocence that told so many stories which I could never decipher, but filled with a pain that I knew she didn't understand. I knew it all too well. "You won't leave. I can't lose you again. We'll figure something out."
Melinda shook her head in dismay. "No, I can't. I can't. They told me that you needed help, and that I was the only one who could help you."
It wasn't fear that gripped my heart; not pain, not sorrow, but anger. They, the Elders, had interfered again, sent my daughter back to me only so they could pull her back right when I thought that I would never lose her. They ruled over our lives like some sort of demi-gods, but they weren't my gods, and I would not pay them homage like a peasant before a golden calf. My insides burned with rage and I wanted to lash out, kick something, punch in a wall, but she was holding me so tightly. It was apparent that she didn't want to leave any more than I wanted her to. "They can't take you away. I won't let them. It's not fair, sending you here and then ripping you away. I'm sick of all this tug-of-war with higher powers; the witch always loses. I'm better off dead than living without you."
There was a pause, and she squeezed me. "I know why they sent me now, Mom. I know why I agreed to come." Melinda let go of my torso and sat up straight, then looked directly at me, unblinking. She was different in every other way, but her eyes still held the wonder and curiosity of the newborn that I had held in my arms just a short time before. She was calm as she spoke, choosing her words wisely. "I don't remember growing up, with the Elders. I don't remember being five or eight or eleven. I just was. I do remember, however, being alive. I remember being with you, in your arms, and feeling so warm, so safe. I remember the song you sang me, the one that your mother sang to you, and the song that you played me every night to rock me to sleep. The same song that I played to help you find your way here.I was only with you a short time, but it was our time. I can't let you live like this, hiding from a life that you created because of me. You're not remembering the things we did, the few precious things that made me yours, and you mine. Until you remember them, until you can hold them in your memory and in your heart, you won't be able to do anything for me or yourself. It will only get worse, Mom. Please, don't let it get any worse than this."
Her words picked away at me, pulling me to a place that I hadn't wanted to go. I could feel the wall around me crumbling, cracks forming in its once solid surface. If I let it fall, if I stopped hiding form the world as she asked, then she would leave, and again I would be alone. Without her, without Leo, without myself. I wasn't going to let that happen.
"I can't do it," I muttered into my hands. "I won't just let it all disappear, as though it never happened. Because it did happen, dammit, and there's nothing that will ever let me forget that my child was taken form me. You can't ask me to. It's too much."
"No one's asking you to let it all disappear."
The voice behind me was rough and smooth, calm and frightened all at the same time. I didn't have to turn around in order to know who it was. "Leo."
Melinda lifted her fragile head and looked up at her father with adoration. "Hi, Daddy." I turned then and saw him, his clothes looking just as unkempt and disheveled as mine. His eyes were dusky, his face pale, and lines were beginning to etch themselves into his strong forehead.
"Hey, sweetie," he said, forcing a smile. His eyes gave away his true feelings, and I could see tears glistening in their corners. He stared at her lovingly, like any adoring father would, and rested a hand on my shoulder. Despite my fear that he might still blame me, my entire body relaxed at his touch. I felt his fingers through my shirt, not digging in, but pressing in a reassuring way, as though he wanted me to know that he was there, and he wanted to feel me there for him in return.
"Leo, I-"
"Don't," he squeezed my shoulder gently without reproach, but never took his eyes off of our daughter. "Let her finish. You need to hear this."
I closed my mouth and looked back at Melinda. She was crying, the salty streams trickling over her porcelain cheek, but she didn't flinch. Her face was calm as the tears flowed, and her hands were still as they rested on top of mine.
"It wasn't your fault," she continued, her thin fingers wrapping themselves like vines around my wrists. "I know that, Daddy knows that. The only person who doesn't is you."
I cringed, my teeth grating together so loudly that I thought my molars woild spring from my gums. "But if I hadn't taken my time, if I had just gotten up when I heard you the first time, maybe you'd-"
"It wouldn't have made a difference," she cut me off with a sigh. "Fate never meant for me to be with you that long. I know that now. It was an unintentional lesson, a test of your strength, your courage, and most of all, your love." Melinda glanced up at her father and took his free hand. He knelt down beside me, and could feel the warmth radiating from his body. He leaned against my shoulder, his hand still on my arm, and knew that he didn't blame me anymore. Maybe at first, but there was something about his face that told me that he knew something I didn't. He knew what had been planned, what had been foreseen for us and our child was out of our control. He knew that she had to go, even though he loved her so much.
"It wasn't my fault," I repeated slowly, rolling the words around in my mouth.
She shook her head. "No."
"It was a lesson. A test." The realization that I had been puppet once again in Their twisted little show filled my thoughts. A puppet with knotted strings.
"Don't look at it like that," Leo pleaded. I could almost hear his twisting the same idea around in his head, and I knew that he hated it just as much, if not more, than I did. The Elders had destroyed our lives one time too many. "They never meant for it to be this way. If they had known that she was going to. you know, so soon, they wouldn't have sent her to us at all. It was an accident, a terrible mistake in the readings of the Old Books. Don't turn your back on them, on your calling, because of this, because you hate them. Let us help you. Let me help you." I buried my face in my palms and refused to look up. My head pounded in time with my racing heart, and I could feel the blood rushing to my temples. A surge of emotions filled me until there was nothing in my head but a mixture of feelings that blinded me and shoved all rational thought from my mind. It was as though someone had broken a dam inside of me, allowing everything that I had kept hidden, everything that I had suppressed, to flow free in full force, until there was nothing left of me but an empty shell. I had nothing inside to give them, nothing to tell them or show them that I knew I needed help. So I remained there, my head in my hands, and cried.