Chapter Twelve
A Little Too Late
Papers flew off Cynthia's desk as she searched around for her phone. It rang underneath the pile —a not so subtle reminder that she had yet to organize her home office. On the last ring, she found it, sliding to answer, not even bothering to check the caller id. "Hello?"
"Cynthia, holy shit, you missed it." It was Kay, and she was obviously struggling to not laugh.
"What did I miss?" She asked, suddenly worried she might have missed a band concert or something, but then she remembered: fall break. Avery was still on fall break.
Kay laughed. "Girl, I thought I was gonna have to beat an ass today."
"Oh god." There was no telling, so she pulled out her chair to take a seat, awaiting the rest of the story, and thoroughly ignoring the mess around her.
"So, Avery went to hang out with her friend today, right? Maggie? The girl she has that big crush on?"
"Right."
"Well, Avery takes off the morning, and it's been a few hours. She texts me along the way, says they're going to get lunch and whatnot, then head home. A few hours after that, she comes home, I'm sitting on the couch, and the second the door is closed, she just breaks down on me. Like, Cindy, I'm talking crocodile tears, she can barely get a word out —like bawling her little eyes out."
If it weren't for Kay's amused tone, she might have jumped to the wrong conclusion as well.
"So, I'm instantly in momma bear mode, like, 'Who hurt my baby? Nobody hurts my baby! Whose ass do I have to beat?' on the defense, right? Internally, I was like…this is it. The day I go to jail. Hope I have everything in order so Avery goes to Cynthia…"
Cynthia laughed.
"But then, after probably fifteen minutes of calming her down from hyperventilating and sobbing on me…this fucking child…finally says in the tiniest, little voice, 'Maggie kissed me'."
Together, the two began to laugh, Cynthia having to pull her phone away for a moment. While surprised, there was a part of her that also wasn't surprised in the least. It was a very Avery reaction. "I'm definitely glad you didn't have to go beat up a high schooler," she said, bringing the phone back.
"You and me both, but…god. I really thought I was going to have to beat someone today…"
They talked for a while longer, catching up with one another. How work had been going for both of them, how fall break had been apart from the day's event, and other day to day things.
Though, conveniently, Cynthia forgot to bring up seeing Diantha, along with the growing desire to do so again. Instead, she got caught up in the warm familial feeling of having her sister call out of the blue just to talk to her…
Avery slumped her shoulders, looking down at Maggie. "Let's just go." The school bell had rung over fifteen minutes ago, and she wanted to leave. With the end of the semester in sight, winter break practically called her name. Unfortunately, Maggie wasn't going to let her answer that call just yet.
Maggie shook her head. "Just go ask her! I don't know how to help you with your paper without basically writing it for you, and since your teacher isn't helping you, go ask her!" She could see that Avery still wasn't convinced. "Look, you either talk to Mrs. Gardner, a teacher you know, or come talk to my literature teacher, who you don't know. I'm not taking us home until you get the help you need." Giving her a narrow option was the only way she was going to get through to her.
With a heavy sigh, Avery caved. "Fine," she grumbled, turning to face the end of the hallway.
Maggie smiled, leaning against the wall. "I'll wait here, okay?"
"Sounds good," she said, before taking a deep breath. It was best to get everything over with. The paper was due Thursday, and it was already Tuesday afternoon. She had put it off long enough.
Forcing one foot in front of the other, she headed for Diantha's room. Peering in, she saw her former teacher sitting at her desk, eyes intent on her computer screen. "Mrs. Gardner?"
She turned away from her screen, surprised to see Avery in her doorway. "Oh, hello, Avery."
"Hi, Mrs. Gardner. I had a question for you," she began, crossing her arms, forcing herself to not look at the floor.
She turned completely in her chair. "Of course."
"Mr. Morrison just isn't understanding what I need help with, so I was wondering if I could ask you for help." She felt awkward asking her, but she tried to tell herself it would be better than asking Maggie's teacher for help.
"Sure thing! Go ahead and take that chair, and let's see if I can help."
She carefully sat in the desk, placing her backpack on the ground to pull out her book and papers. "It's supposed to be a response paper, but I've never really written one of those, and every time I ask him about it, he just tells me 'just write what you think about the story' but that doesn't tell me what I need to write!"
She hummed in acknowledgement. "Well, what did you think of the book? Was it good? Was it bad?"
She looked at the paperback book sitting on the desk with a mild disgust. "I liked the beginning a lot, but the ending felt like a smack in the face so now I'm just sitting here like…I don't know what to think…"
Thankfully, Diantha knew where to steer this. With enough questions of why she felt the story was unsatisfactory, and getting her to just vocalize the answer, within fifteen minutes she had a working idea of what she was going to write.
Packing her things back into her bag, Avery laughed to herself. "I should have just asked you last week," she said.
"When is that due?"
"Thursday," she sheepishly admitted. The amusement in Diantha's eyes caught her attention. "What's so funny?"
"Taking after your aunt and waiting until the very last minute to write papers, huh?" She asked.
She couldn't resist asking. "Was aunt Cindy that bad?"
She nodded. "Yes, however, she was more famous for writing them the night, or even morning before they were due." At least Cynthia had been gifted with the ability to read through a book in no time, and still have a good understanding of what she had read. "You've at least got tonight and tomorrow night. However, I wouldn't wait much longer to start writing."
She nodded in turn. "Oh, yeah, that will probably be the first thing I do when I get home."
Zipping up her bag, she stood up from the desk, ready to walk out of the room.
Diantha stood as well to walk her out. "If you ever need help again, don't be afraid to ask. You may not be my student anymore, but I am always willing to help you, Avery."
Stopping in the doorway, Avery turned to look at Diantha. A smile broke over her face, and in a split second, she made her decision. "Thank you, Dannie!" Hopefully nobody was around to hear it.
It was something Diantha realized she hadn't felt in a number of years. She hadn't felt it towards any of Mel's nieces and nephews, even for a second. If she thought on it, the only time she ever felt it was towards Avery all those years ago.
Something she always likened to an innate sense of familial affection.
She only nodded in response, feeling too choked up to trust her own voice.
Avery walked off, leaving Diantha to stand in the doorway. She watched as she joined Maggie, eagerly taking her hand as they headed off towards one of the school's exits.
"That's a motherly look on your face if I've ever seen one."
She turned to glance at Augustine, not moving from her spot. She returned her attention to Avery. "I've been seeing Cynthia more often, and I suppose it's stirring up old feelings. There was a time and day when I was almost Avery's aunt."
Avery and Maggie turned a corner, now out of her sight. When she looked at Augustine once again, his grin caught her off guard.
"Any chance you might become her aunt here in the future?"
She felt herself flush at the insinuation, her whole body wrapped in heat. She jokingly shoved him before turning around to go back into her room. "Oh, please. Just because I have dinner with Cynthia every once in a while doesn't mean anything of the sort."
He hummed in response as he moved to stand in the doorway, resting an arm up on the frame. "Tell me, Ann, how often is every once in a while?"
She moved about her desk, trying to organize things as best she could. She would resume her grading at home.
She thought about lying, but there was no use in doing so. "Maybe once every other week."
"Uh-huh." She could hear the grin in his voice. "And when are you seeing her next?"
She cradled a binder in her arms, turning to look at him once more. "We don't have plans as of yet. Though, maybe soon since it's almost winter break for us."
"And there's nothing going on there, huh?"
She rolled her eyes, pushing her chair aside, now searching for her bag. "I don't know, Augustine. It's…delicate, I suppose. I can't say I would be opposed to the idea of something along with friendship, but considering where I left things all those years ago, I'm just happy to have her in my life once more. I'm not going to push it." She realized it was the first time she had admitted any of this aloud. The flush from earlier was threatening to turn into a full on hot-flash.
He shrugged. "Fair enough."
Throwing her bag over her shoulder, she grabbed her binder back off her desk, and turned to Augustine. "Are you wanting to walk out together?" She asked.
"As always," He said, stepping back into the hallway.
Locking her room behind her, she began to dig through her bag. Her phone was lighting up from the depths of it, her father's name on the screen. She found herself laughing as she pulled it out, about to answer.
She looked up at Augustine. "I bet he's put another dent in a golf cart and wants to tell me about it," She said, sliding to answer.
He laughed lightly, knowing from the description alone it was her father calling.
"Hello, father!" She greeted. "…I'm doing well! The school day ended a while ago, and so I'm about to head home. How about you?"
Augustine walked silently beside her, unable to hear any of what her father was saying. Out of the corner of his eyes, he noticed that she began to fall behind. When he stopped to give her a questioning look, he watched her smile slowly fall into neutrality.
"I see," She said. She adjusted the grip on her binder, allowing her hand to fall to her side. "I…" Her gaze fell to the ground, unwilling to make eye contact with Augustine. If she did, she risked cracking. "Let me get home and I will…I will see what I can do."
Her phone almost slipped from her hand as she tried to put it back into her bag. Frustrated, she threw it into the bag haphazardly, cramming her binder in after it.
"Everything okay?" Augustine carefully asked.
She took a shallow breath, shaking her head. "My mother died, Augustine," was all she could get out.
All at once everything was too much. She didn't want to deal with this. She didn't want to deal with any of it. It was three days from the end of the semester. She had final exams to give on Thursday, not a funeral to plan.
Unable to voice anything, she continued on, intent on the front office to sign out, and prayed she could figure out what to do or say by the time she reached there.
"Diantha, wait!"
She ignored him, all while knowing at the back of her mind that she would have been furious any other time her first name was said on school grounds.
All she could think about was what she needed to get in order. A substitute to take over her classes for the last few days, and someone to grade the tests she planned to give. Or at least someone who could scan everything and send it to her.
She needed to figure out getting a ticket to Wisteria, and make the decision to fly into either Rennon or Calgary.
Figuring out everything that went into a funeral was what she was least looking forward to. Especially considering the person it was for.
She desperately wished everything would just be taken care of, but her father had specifically asked for her help, and she knew she couldn't refuse him.
"Diantha," Augustine said under his breath, putting himself in front of her. Still caught up in her thoughts, she nearly walked into him.
"What?" She asked, harsher than she intended.
"Please take a second and just breathe."
It was something she had been told plenty of times in her life. Between anxiety from auditions in her past, to her current anxiety towards life in general, being told to 'just breathe' was nothing new. The only newness was the sudden anger that came along with being told to breathe.
"Diantha," He said, much softer.
She exhaled, something about his tone quelling the anger. She wouldn't take out her frustrations on him simply because he dared to care. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be. What can I do for you right now?" He asked.
She shook her head, not entirely sure of what he could do to help. "Just…" She took a small step towards the office. "You being here is enough." Now more than ever she was glad nothing had ended up strained between them. She was glad he showed up that first morning after fall break with a coffee for her, and a reminder that no matter what they were friends…
Diantha sighed heavily after dropping her small suitcase by her door. It was packed with enough to get her through the few days she would be Wisteria, with a newly purchased funeral outfit sitting somewhere in the bottom.
"You would die when it's least convenient for me, wouldn't you?" She asked aloud.
A wave of hot shame washed over her as she chastised herself for saying such a thing. Despite everything she had against her mother, she told herself she had to behave appropriately. Her father was grieving, and there were things to get in order. Dragging her personal feelings into the matter would only complicate things. She could express her true feelings on everything at a later time.
Returning to her kitchen, she took a seat at the table, going over her mail. The whole day she had been filled with anxious energy. She hated missing work, especially at the end of the semester. It wasn't something she had ever done, and she prayed she would never have to do it again in the future.
Augustine had been right, however. Despite the fact that she could have physically made it into work, mentally, she would have been absolutely useless. It was best she stay home, putting all her focus onto getting things for the funeral in order.
Thankfully, with it being a family emergency, the school had worked with her as much as they could. One of the other literature teachers had volunteered to grade all her final exams, and while it had been one of the junior's teachers, she was grateful it was her who volunteered. Morrison and the other sophomore teacher tended to grade differently than her, and she wouldn't have felt comfortable leaving it all to them.
The sound of her phone from back in the living room caught her attention. Its tone indicated it was a video call. She hoped it was Siebold. If there was anyone who could keep her anxiety at bay, it would be him…
Long after the airplane's wheels had touched ground and sat around the tarmac for a good half hour due to gate assignment issues, Diantha finally stepped foot into the terminal. The entire flight had been a nightmare. The person to her right had been far too talkative, and the person on the window seat kept the shade down the entire way. It was a small thing, but had irritated her greatly.
Never before had Rennon airport been so delightful.
The terminal they arrived in had been renovated since she last flew in. The floor to ceiling windows that were at least two stories high left the airport feeling more open than previously.
As she made her way towards the baggage claim, thoughts about what was to come started creeping in. Despite it still being relatively early back in Cordova, with little sleep over the past few days, she was exhausted. Feeling that way made it more difficult to keep those thoughts at bay.
Thankfully, to help with all of that, she would have Siebold, who had dutifully arrived to pick her up just as her flight had landed.
It wasn't difficult to spot him as she exited out of the terminal to the waiting area. A thick navy-blue sweater, and a haircut that seemed new since they last spoke.
While returning to Wisteria always made her anxious —plenty of times she had run into people who remembered her— the sight of Siebold always had a way of easing that.
He stood above most of the crowd, smiling the second his eyes landed on her.
She nearly dropped her carry-on purse as she wrapped him in a strong embrace, her head just barely at his chest. "I am so glad to see you, dear Siebold." If they weren't in the middle of an airport, she might have been tempted to stay in his arms longer. It was a place that never failed to comfort her in ways not many people could. Strong and warm, it put the thoughts of what was to come just out of reach.
His laugh rumbled against her ear.
"It's good to see you, too, Diantha. Though, I am again sorry for why you're here," he said, once she had finally let go of him.
They began walking towards the baggage claim area. "It is what it is, Siebold. I just want things to go as smoothly as possible."
He nodded. "I've been helping your father as closely as possible with arranging things. Cress and his brothers have been helping as well. I'll be damned if this goes any other way than smoothly."
Between their four attentions to detail —barring Chili perhaps— things were bound to go as planned.
There were only a few things that could go wrong, but she forced herself to think about other things instead of them. The sooner all of this was over, the sooner she would get her final goodbye to her mother, and it would all be over and done with.
After getting her bag, they made their way for the parking garage. The second the automatic doors opened, a rush of cold air blew into the building. It was already cold when Diantha had flew out of Cordova, but she had forgotten just how cold December in Wisteria could be.
She pulled her coat closer to herself, regretting not wearing her winter coat, or at least having it easily accessible. Instead, it was at the bottom of the small suitcase Siebold was now carrying.
"I can't believe I used to live in this," she grumbled, taking relief in the slight shelter the parking garage provided them as they got deeper into the structure.
"Cordova has made you soft," He joked, finally arriving at his vehicle. Touching the driver's side door handle, the keyless entry opened all the doors, allowing Diantha to climb in while he stowed her suitcase.
The car hadn't retained any warmth, leaving Diantha still shivering.
How she and Cynthia would go out in weather like this, wearing only a light coat, was beyond her.
Which reminded her that she had yet to even speak a word of this to Cynthia. She wasn't sure if she could handle that on top of everything else. A few days of silence would likely go unnoticed. Otherwise, it was a bridge she would cross when she got to it.
"So," Siebold began, finally getting into the driver's seat. "I am assuming the first thing you want to do in the morning is go see your father?" He asked, starting the car. He then reached over to press the buttons that would start the seat warmers.
She nodded. "Yes, that would probably be best." She then looked to him. "And thank you again for letting me stay with you."
He shook his head. "It's no trouble at all, Diantha. With the chaos of all of this, and with how much your father downsized, you staying with us seems most fitting. Even with Cress's brothers, there's still more than enough space."
"Still mulling over the idea of adopting?" She asked.
He nodded. "It's been coming up more frequently. We're both very on the fence about it, and it's not something to go into without being completely sure."
They discussed the topic some more as they made the drive out to northern Wevock, going over the various reasons he and his husband were unable to reach a decision on whether or not to adopt.
The snowfall had begun to pick up. The driveway leading up to Seibold's house was covered in a new layer, Diantha laughing to herself as Siebold then grumbled about having to clear it later.
Car in the garage, Cress greeted them at the door. "I'm glad you made it in alright," He said, giving Diantha a small hug once she was inside. "I know that isn't exactly the most pleasant of flights."
She forced a laugh, walking with them into the kitchen. Like most of their house, it was a sleek modern design, consisting of mostly greys and whites, with accents of blue.
Siebold kept walking towards the stairs. "I'm going to put your bag in the room you usually stay in," He told her.
She gave him a quick thank you before returning her attention to Cress. "It wasn't the length of the flight that was bad, it was the woman next to me who gave me her life story that was."
He laughed along. "Surly it reminded you of your famous days?"
"At least then I expected it. Learning Vivian's story about going to law school and washing out was not what I was expecting on my flight." Whether it had been fans, or some of the extras or newer costars she had worked with, she had expected to be given a life story now and then. It came with the territory.
"Fair enough," he said, now standing with her at the island.
She looked around. "Are your brothers here?" She asked.
Before he could even get a word out, her question was answered with the return of Siebold who now had Cilan with him.
"My apologies," the middle brother began. "I just got out of the shower, and Chili's on a phone call." His hair was still damp, and he carried with him a small cloud of whatever body wash he used, that was piney and delightful.
While she loved all three brothers, owing each of them a great personal debt for being there to help her move out while divorcing Mel, secretly, Cilan was always her favorite. Typically, he was calm and reserved, but every now and then she had been around when they had gotten onto a topic he was deeply passionate about, and he would talk a mile a minute. It was all incredibly endearing to her, and so she got along with him the best.
"I wish I could say it's good to see you," He said, keeping his hands folded neatly at his front.
She shrugged. "The circumstances may be not ideal, but it is good to see you, dear Cilan."
They exchanged a quick hug, and just before he could ask her how she was doing, the door to the laundry room off to the side opened, Chili shoving his phone into his pocket. He audibly groaned as he walked into the kitchen, rubbing the back of his neck. "Sorry, Burgundy saw another chihuahua-sized rat and had a bit of a freak-out, and– oh, hey, Diantha."
Despite the absurdity of it all, Diantha found herself laughing. A good feeling. "Well I can't say I'm not morbidly curious now," She said. "Hello, Chili."
Everyone turned their attention to the youngest triplet.
"Renovating an old bakery with my girlfriend, and we're finding out exactly why she got it so cheap." He held his hands up, sizing out roughly the size of a small dog. "I swear to you, Diantha, the fuckin' things are this big."
She covered her mouth in disgust. "And she's still planning to sell baked goods out of that place?"
Cilan looked at her. "My point exactly."
Chili gave a dismissive wave of the hand. "We're stripping the place down to the bones. She saw it while walking through with the guy who was telling her if the place could be saved, structurally. Good news: it's structurally sound."
"Bad news is you said chihuahua-sized rats and that's all I'll be able to think about if I ever set foot in the building," Cress countered.
Diantha was more than inclined to agree with him.
"See, the thing is, though, I already had pest control come by. The guy didn't think it was coming from our old building, but one of the neighboring ones. Health inspector might have gotten an 'anonymous' tip," He said, making air quotes with his fingers.
Cress leaned on the marble countertop of the island. "So, when is Burgundy going to be more than your girlfriend?"
Diantha looked to him. "You know, I was going to ask something similar. This is a big project to be taking up with someone who is just a girlfriend."
He looked around the room, ending in a shrug. "I'm here to help with a funeral. I don't want to try to steal anyone's thunder."
"Chili dear, I could always use good news," She said.
He seemed to consider it for a few more seconds, before shrugging with a small smile. "We've been talking and agreed that if we could still stand one another after going through a renovation, I would propose."
It brought a more genuine smile to her face. "I'm so very happy for you, dear," She said. And she was. From what she understood, he and his girlfriend were both hotheaded by nature, but were determined to work it out with one another. Cress and Cilan would often comment on how she was the only person Chili had ever been serious about. Diantha hadn't met her, but she hoped to one day soon enough.
"Thanks, but now I'm in the situation where I want it to still be a surprise! I don't want the day after reno is all done and just bam! Proposal time!"
Siebold laughed lightly. "You could always do what I did and act like you were going to propose for about three months–"
Cress immediately cut in. "Excuse you! That was a five-month period, I remember! I was there! And in the end, it was me who ended up proposing!"
Siebold laughed, looking over the counter at his husband. "And what were your absolutely charming words that swept me off me feet?"
Diantha looked expectantly to Cress. She was aware that Cress ended up "stealing" the ring and proposing, since Siebold was having a little too much fun dragging it out. But Siebold was making it sound as though there was more to the story that he hadn't even shared with her up until now.
Cress looked to the side, embarrassed. "We all already know that I am the most charming of the three of us. I don't need to rub it in."
Chili immediately looked to Siebold. "Are you really only just now telling me that he fucked it up? After all these years?"
They had been married for five years now, and to have held onto something for that long left Diantha curious as well. "It must have been a spectacular mess-up."
Siebold looked to her. "Not to drag up something so old, but think back to how you and Cynthia admitted your feelings for one another before your graduation."
She laughed. If it was even in the ballpark as bad as theirs had been, that would be a feat on its own.
Cress turned to her, exasperated. "You know, how are things with her? I hear you two are seeing one another more frequently," Cress said, desperately trying to side-track the conversation.
Chili wasn't about to let it happen. "Oh, no, don't even think you can get out of this. I gotta know. We can ask about her train wreck later! I wanna know about this one!"
His cheeks had gained a little color by then, and if they hadn't been in the middle of teasing him, she would have fared no better.
"Regale us, Cress. Tell them exactly how you won me over," Siebold encouraged.
"I must admit, I am also dying to hear this," Cilan commented.
Cress looked around the room, all attention on him. He caved. "After I mistook his actual attempt to propose to me as more of his nonsense, he started to put the ring box away, and so I snatched it out of his hand and got down on my own knee to propose."
"And you said…?" Siebold prompted.
The buildup was tormenting Diantha, and she prayed it would pay off. With how embarrassed Cress was getting, something she had hardly ever seen, surly it would be with it.
Cress crossed his arms, only looking at Siebold as he spoke. "Marry me already, you big oaf."
Everyone in the room immediately began laughing, much to his own dismay. Diantha's cheeks began to hurt.
"Fuck, dude! I thought I was bad with words!" Chili responded, wiping the corner of his eyes. It wasn't every day the youngest triplet got to razz the oldest.
"Yes, yes, eat it up," Cress grumbled. He looked to Siebold. "I must love you," He said.
Diantha watched Siebold, the teasing look in his eyes coupled with all the love in the world for his husband.
"You know," Diantha began. "I would put that on par with me and Cynthia practically yelling at one another, 'I want to kiss you and it's driving me insane!'"
Siebold snickered. "And then her yelling, 'well then do it!'"
Cress groaned. "Stars above."
Diantha gave him a sympathetic look. "See, we can't all have a way with words all the time, Cress."
Cilan chimed in. "Yes, but you were, I assume, no more than eighteen when you said that?" He looked to his brother. "He said that at thirty-one."
"Though, does it say more about me? Because I did say yes." Siebold asked.
They continued to razz Cress some more, and his attempts at deflecting were eventually successful. They sat around the kitchen island catching up with one another, and eventually going over what all they had managed to get done.
Plans were set to meet with a funeral director the next day in the afternoon. Cremation services had already been arranged, and if things went as planned, the funeral would be set for some time over the weekend. Saturday was the ideal, but with it being relatively close to the winter holidays, they would take what they could get.
Diantha was hoping for Saturday, that way things would be done with as soon as possible. However, the more she thought on it, with it still being Thursday night, something about it felt distinctly far off. So close, and yet so far.
As she mulled about the spare bedroom that was setup for her, she felt the sudden and overwhelming desire to call Cynthia. The three-hour time difference would be at her advantage, but despite it, she forced the feeling aside. She had a funeral to get through, and being in Wisteria while hearing Cynthia's voice decidedly seemed like too much to handle in the moment.
For now, she just wanted to conserve as much mental energy she had for the next few days…
The funeral ended up being scheduled for Sunday, late in the afternoon. It all rolled around far too slowly for Diantha.
Dressed in black, she stood towards the back of the crowd gathered by the mausoleum's south wall. She told herself she wouldn't get within reading distance until everyone else had cleared out.
Standing back gave her a good scope of the people around her. Many people she recognized from throughout her childhood. Many of her father's friends had offered her their condolences as well. Some of the faces, however, she hadn't seen in a number of years. She didn't dare approach anyone she recognized to be a friend of her mother's, and if they approached her, she kept things to a minimum.
To her surprise, Grant had showed up for a while to offer his condolences. While his visit was short, it was a much-needed reprieve.
The brothers and Siebold mingled about, talking to people as necessary. She fought to think of a way to thank them all later. They were going above and beyond.
"Are you doing alright?" Siebold asked her, returning to her side. Cress came to stand at her other side, but said nothing. Cilan and Chili were still somewhere among the crowd.
She only blinked, body stiff. "I am here."
Siebold hummed. "Despite how…unpleasant of a woman she could be, I do want you to know that it is alright to feel sadness during this."
Cress nodded. "I would agree. My brothers and I had a similar relationship with our parents. Allowing ourselves to accept feeling sad during our father's funeral was…a process."
"Thank you both, but…I am not sad. I am here, and that's all I care to be right now," she said, keeping her eyes on the crowd. Her eyes searched for her father, but he was nowhere to be seen. Like her he was probably avoiding things until they cleared.
Siebold and Cress looked at one another. Just as Siebold was going to say something, he stopped short. His voice dropped, and the look in his eyes reminded Diantha of a violent sea. "Cress, get your brothers." He placed himself in front of her, blocking the man he saw approaching.
She peered around him, and despite the surge of anger in her stomach upon seeing her ex-husband walking towards them, she retained her calm. "Cress, don't bother," she said.
He stuck by her side, but he was almost as tense as Siebold was.
"You were not invited, Mel Gardner. You need to leave," Siebold said, stepping forward to cut him off.
Mel put his hands up, keeping a safe distance away from him. "I'm just here to offer my condolences." He looked to Diantha before back to Siebold. "I also want to talk to Diantha for just a moment."
"I will say it only once more: you need to leave," He hissed. He knew better than to cause a scene at a funeral, but he wasn't going to make Mel feel welcome in any capacity.
Diantha put a hand on his arm, pushing lightly against it. "Siebold, it's fine."
He looked down at her, but ultimately stepped aside. The look he gave Mel told her he wouldn't be too far away if needed. All of which she was thankful for, but she was determined to fight her own battle this time.
Crossing her arms, she looked over Mel. He hadn't changed too much since she last saw him. The only thing that had changed were the lines now on his forehead, and the lack of his bleached blond hair. Though, she would have been willing to place money that he still had it dyed to keep any grey out of the brown.
He at least had the decency to show up in mute colors.
"Well, Mel, to what do I owe the displeasure of having you show up, uninvited, to my mother's funeral?" She asked.
He gave a one-armed shrug. "C'mon, Diantha. Unless you and Geneviève had a miraculous turnaround in your relationship, I'm sure it's safe to say that you're not happy to be here."
She rolled her eyes, taking a step back. While he wasn't wrong, she wasn't about to give him any sort of satisfaction. "Starting off like this, are we?"
He rolled his eyes. "Look, one of the last times I saw you, Siebold was threatening me, and now, once again, it's Siebold threatening me, staring me down like he's your personal guard dog. Understand he's got me a little on edge," He explained.
Now it was painful to hold back her emotions. How dare he play the victim of that situation? "Oh, I'm sorry, do you need to be reminded why Siebold was threatening you last time? Why I had him, Grant, Cress and his brothers, all threatening you to varying degrees? Have you forgotten what brought that about?" Her voice was about as cold as the temperature outside. He would get no mercy from her when it came to why that had happened.
His mouth opened to speak, but nothing came out. She had cornered him, much like he had cornered her at one time.
"Sorry," He began, more carefully this time. "Look, let's start this over. I heard from a few people of your mother's passing, and I wanted to come offer my condolences. I'm sorry for your loss, Diantha. I know you and her weren't that close, but offering a few apologies to you is the least I can do."
Her arms remained crossed. "A few apologies?" She wasn't even sure why she was letting him continue. It seemed even after years of separation, he still had a way of getting her attention in one way or another.
"Yes. Seeing as I'll likely never get another opportunity like this, I wanted to apologize for, well, everything, Diantha. For how I treated you, and for what I did to our marriage. I should have been there for you. Ignoring you and punishing you for your problem wasn't the right thing to do, and if I could go back and do it all over again, I would do things very differently. For all of that, Diantha Ann, I am sorry."
She stared at him for a moment, and despite how long that moment felt, during all of it she couldn't find a shred of desire to forgive him. Remembering the place she had been, mentally, by the end of their marriage left her with little forgiveness. "Words don't mean a whole lot when they're late, Mel. I accept your apology, but I do not forgive you."
He shrugged again, stepping back from her. "I understand. Wherever you are in life, Diantha, I hope you're well." With that he turned to walk away, and she watched him walk into the midst of the crowd.
A chill ran through her, but not from the cold.
She felt a new presence come to stand next to her. "Hey, was that shit-head?"
Finally, a genuine smile came across her face as she looked up at Chili, who had come to stand next to her. His red eyes were practically burning a hole into the back of her ex-husband's head.
"Yes, it was, but no need to worry about it. I put him in his place," she told him.
He crossed his arms, leaning his head down so only she could hear. "Want me to follow him around, standing really close and just stare him down?"
She placed a hand on his cheek, smiling at him. "Dear Chili, you're too kind," she joked, bringing her hand back.
"Anything for you, Diantha. Just say the word," He said, stepping away to give her space.
Siebold and Cress returned to her. "He gets two minutes and then I'm throwing his ass out," Siebold grumbled.
"Dear," Cress scolded. "This is a funeral."
He shifted his weight to his other foot. "Fine, he gets five minutes." He then gave his attention to Diantha, softening his tone. "Did he say anything to require me to take that back?" He asked.
She shook her head. "He apologized for a few things. I told him I accepted his apology, but that I did not forgive him."
"The high road," Cress said. "I'm proud of you."
"I would have punched him in the dick," Chili said point blank, earning another laugh from Diantha, and a scolding from his brother.
Siebold scoffed, crossing his arms. "For once I'm inclined to agree with you."
More than ever, she was thankful for her boys. Even as crass as Chili's comments could be, the chance to laugh freely left her in better spirits.
Not long after, Cilan returned to their group, and the four of them did what they could to pass time. The feeling of just being there lessened, and once the crowd had disappeared, Diantha found herself more grounded in the moment.
"Can you all give me a moment alone?" She asked, clasping her hands at her front.
Siebold nodded. "Sure. Cress and I will be at the car."
"We'll see you back at you father's," Cilan said for himself and Chili.
With that, she was left alone. A cool breeze flowed into the building, and her footsteps echoed off the slate walls.
She stood in front of her mother's spot. Nothing more than a small square among many others on the cremation wall.
Geneviève Ella Moreau-Ruston
13 September 1952 — 12 December 2017
She hadn't asked her father for any details regarding her death. Regardless, he had told her.
Unbeknownst to Diantha, her mother's health had been declining for the past few years, and her father would regularly check up on her. The person she had left him for had abandoned her at the first sign of bad health, and being her ex-husband, he felt a certain responsibility to her.
In the end, Diantha knew he just didn't want her to die alone. Maybe it was more than she deserved.
"I suppose if there is a god, I hope they let you know exactly what you did to me, mother. I hope you are forced to see just what you did to father and everyone else around you. I also hope it burns you knowing I got the last laugh since, in one way or another, Cynthia came back to me, and now there is nothing you could ever hope to do about that." She placed a hand on her name, but fell silent, not a word of taunt left in her.
For a while, she stood there, not saying anything, listening to the silence that surrounded her. In the silence, a deep-seated dread crept in that she couldn't force down no matter how hard she tried. It burned in her chest and left a sting in her eyes.
Memories of her early childhood sat at the edge of her mind. A time before she was even aware of the kind of woman her mother was. A time when her mother had been her favorite person on the planet. When she was still small enough to be picked up and spun around, a kiss on both cheeks leaving a smear of whatever color lipstick she happened to be wearing for the day, and being asked, "What did you learn about today, dear Diantha?" And she would tell her with as much enthusiasm a child could muster, and her mother would listen attentively.
A time when she would get scolded for being "too rambunctious and unladylike" because she was bound and determined to climb the magnolia tree in the back gardens. A scolding that always had a small, amused smile to it.
Where had that woman gone?
And why had she disappeared right around Diantha's tenth birthday?
Soft and slow footsteps caught her attention. She quickly retracted her hand, turning to see who was approaching. It was her father. "Hello, dear," he said, coming to stand next to her.
She looked over the age-worn man, who would be turning seventy in February, smiling gently. "Hello, father. I take it you also wanted to wait for the crowd to leave?"
He nodded, keeping his eyes on Geneviève's plaque. "Yes. I wasn't up to dealing with half of them. Be sure to remind me to thank the boys for talking to everyone."
"Of course." A brief quiet fell over them.
Gabriel was the first to break it. "Diantha, I know you and your mother weren't close. I know she made some…questionable choices in her life, but I do hope you know she loved you."
"I know," was all she could respond with. It was her funeral, she reminded herself.
It wasn't as if she ever doubted her mother loved her. That she was sure of; just as she was sure that her mother's love was an unhealthy one.
However, as Gabriel continued to talk, she said nothing else. His voice was soft and full of reminiscence. He was grieving, and she wasn't going to bring her own feelings on the matter into it. Even when he spoke of events they both had clearly different recollections of, she remained silent.
After a while, he was done, and with a promise to return often, the two finally left the mausoleum.
Walking with her arm through her father's, if nothing more than to keep him steady, she couldn't get herself off one reoccurring thought.
"I hope you know just how much he loved you. Even after you left."
His unfaltering love for her mother was definitely more than she deserved, in her opinion.
The following morning, Diantha awoke much earlier than she would have liked to. The sleep she had received was hardly of any quality, and she couldn't convince her body to go back to sleep.
Thankfully, Cilan was an early riser, so she wasn't alone when she walked into the kitchen.
"Good morning, Diantha," he greeted, sipping his coffee. "I've made some coffee if you would like some."
"Thank you, Cilan." She went through the process of making her coffee, faltering slightly when she couldn't remember where spoons were kept.
Cilan's soft steps caught her attention. "Here," he said, pulling a spoon out of the drawer she had been looking for.
"You would think with how often I've been here I would have figured that out by now," She said, stirring cream and sugar into her drink.
He laughed lightly, returning to his spot on the island counter stool. "The rhythm of their kitchen doesn't make much sense, even to me. We had to stop going into one another's kitchens because we just get frustrated with each other," He joked.
She said nothing in response, only sipping her coffee, adding more cream until she was satisfied. Carefully, she took the seat next to Cilan, enjoying the view out of the large window.
"So," Cilan began after a quick drink of his coffee. "How are you feeling this morning?" He asked.
She took a long sip of her drink. "Again, I am here. To be honest with you, Cilan, I don't know that I will be ready to process this for...some time."
He nodded. "That's how I was when our father passed away. I refused to feel anything towards it, and it took a lot of encouragement from my girlfriend of the time just to even begin working through it. Though, I don't want you to take this as me forcing you to confront any feelings. I just want you to know it's okay to take your time with all of it."
"I'm aware. Getting back to Cordova will help with that." The idea of seeing Cynthia when she got back crossed her mind, which brought another idea to mind. "Actually, this is unrelated, but may I ask a favor of you, Cilan?"
He turned to face her better. "Of course."
"I want to check up on my father, but there's somewhere I want to visit first. Even in all my trips visiting back, I haven't been there in over ten years. It might not still be there, but I want to see if it is."
"I'd be happy to take you…"
The wind from the day before had died down. Snow resumed falling in heavy flakes, crunching loudly beneath Diantha and Cilan's steps as they walked along the riverfront. Storefronts were lit, and with the anticipation of the winter holiday, plenty of people lined the streets, not thinking anything of the snow.
"So, may I ask why you haven't been this way in over ten years?" Cilan asked, adjusting the scarf around his neck.
She laughed lightly. "I could tell you that it's because I would often get harassed by paparazzi back when I was somebody, but that wouldn't be the complete truth, dear Cilan."
"So, what is?"
She brought them to a stop in front of a small bakery, wedged between two stores. Thankfully, it was almost exactly the same as she last saw it. The only thing different was a fresh coat of paint, and different stores at its side. "I used to come here with my ex-girlfriend a lot, and coming here only brought memories of her back."
He nodded, "I used to have places like that, so I understand."
"But now, I think it's time to let that just be a memory." And maybe it would be an easy thing. After all, she realized, Cynthia was no longer a sore subject.
She then offered to buy him a coffee, if only so she could live one last time in that memory, at least. It wasn't a hard thing to do. Upon opening the door the smell that was so familiar, warm and sweet, she couldn't even fathom ever forgetting it, enveloped her.
Sitting by the window, she couldn't resist taking a picture and sending it to Cynthia. While she made sure to not give away the location completely, there was a likelihood that she would still remember as well.
"I'll fill you in later on why I'm here,
but goodness I had forgotten just how cold it gets in Wisteria."
Unlike the previous few days, everything after that seemed to go by in a rush. Checking in on her father, visits, many more pictures sent to Cynthia, and figuring out what to do with her father for the winter holiday, Diantha was right back at the airport with Siebold, just as it all began.
Walking with her, and carrying all her things, once her bag was checked in, he stood with her outside of security.
"So, you'll be coming back soon?" He asked.
She nodded, adjusting the strap of her purse. "Yes. Father doesn't feel up to flying out to me, and despite not wanting to fly again, I absolutely will not leave him alone during the holiday. I'll be flying back in on the twenty-fourth, and I will leave after the new year. I will stay with him, though. I don't want to impose on you and Cress again."
He shook his head. "It was hardly an imposition, Diantha. We were glad to do whatever we could for you."
She smiled at him, eternally grateful for the man. "Could I ask you to check up on my father a time or two before I get back? I plan on calling him more often, but…" She hated asking such thing of him, but it would ease her anxiety significantly; which he likely understood.
"I had already planned on doing so."
She pulled him into a hug, enjoying the fabric of his blue sweater. "Thank you for everything, dear Siebold."
"Again, it was no trouble." He pulled away from her. "Let me know when you've gotten back to Cordova, alright?"
"Of course. Goodbye, my dear," She said, turning to make her way into security. Thankfully, Rennon's security was always a breeze. Within minutes she had her purse back from the scanner, and was on her way to her gate.
Earlier in the day she had promised to give Cynthia a call, and with an hour until her flight boarded, now was as good as ever. Finding a seat by a large window, she grabbed her phone, searching through for Cynthia's number.
After a few rings, "So, I'm glad to hear you obviously haven't frozen to death. I was getting worried."
She laughed lightly, pulling her hair to one side. "There's still an hour before my flight boards, so let's not test my luck, dear Cynthia." She forced down the feeling from using the endearment. She hadn't used it since their first coffee date.
"In all seriousness, is everything okay? I get the feeling a short-notice trip to Wisteria wasn't for fun."
"You would be correct." She paused for a few seconds, looking through her reflection at a luggage cart as it drove underneath the jetways. "My mother passed."
"I'm so sorry, Diantha." There was a sincerity in her voice that was evident even on the phone. It brought her a small comfort.
She shrugged to herself. The cold seeping in from the window was making her regret her choice in seating. "It is what it is, at this point. I will…sort my feelings on all of it when I get home."
"I know you're not here right now, but…Is there anything I can do for you?"
She forced a quick laugh. "To be honest, the main thing I want right now is to just get home and sleep in my own bed…And as cliché as it sounds, hearing your voice is more than enough for me, right now."
There was a laugh on her end. "Well, the great thing is, most of my job is talking, so I would be more than happy to regale you on all kinds of things."
"Tell me, darling, did another child walk off with a piece of your geology display?" She asked, amused.
"Worse: a child walked off with a decent sized piece of the mushroom display from the bioluminescence exhibit."
She couldn't resist a laugh. "I hope you weren't the one leading that tour."
"No, thankfully. The staff meeting I had after that was about as equally bad, because I don't like getting onto my staff like that, but…come on. A large, plastic, glowing, mushroom. Just…I'm still at a loss for words, Diantha. How does that even happen? Thankfully the parent noticed and returned it, but…still. That's a visiting exhibit. Steven and I spent the day combing over the exhibit to see if we could figure out how it was taken, but we still couldn't figure it out…"
She sat with her on the phone for well over a half hour, mind temporarily taken off the events from the last few days with the aid of a little laughter.
"So, hey, before I let you go, if you need anything just let me know, okay? Even if you just need some company, I'm more than willing to come out to you."
"That's very sweet of you, Cynthia, but I wouldn't want to force you to drive that much just to keep me company." Though, as she said it, she couldn't help but realize that it was exactly what she wanted in the moment. Maybe even more so than getting to sleep in her own bed.
"You would hardly be forcing me. I have Thursday and Friday off this week, so just keep it in mind, okay?"
"I will, dear Cynthia. Thank you." The warmth returned to her neck; a childish feeling.
"I know it will be late when you get in, but at least text me when you get home, okay?"
"If you're okay with getting that text around midnight, I definitely will." She figured she would then back out of it, opting to be told the following morning.
"I just want to know that you're safe."
At the risk of something coming out that she wasn't prepared to say, she said her goodbye, and put her phone away in her purse. The lighting left her with nothing more than her reflection staring back at her, and the soft voice of the gate agent announcing information about the flight.
Despite being exhausted in many different ways, she was sure she wasn't going to get any sleep on the flight.
To keep herself occupied until it was time to board, she thought back on a time when she had sat at his exact airport with Cynthia. They had sat together many times when they would go on trips together, taking advantage of what they could of her filming. While Rennon had changed considerably since then, the memories were still clear to Diantha.
It was easy to get lost in thoughts of resting her head on Cynthia's shoulder, off and on reading whatever book happened to be in her hands for the trip. Usually something mythology or university related.
While it might have been easy to wish to go back to those times, instead, Diantha merely found herself wishing she were there now. She didn't want a shoulder to rest on. She wanted her shoulder to rest on.
The desire sat with her the entire way back to Cordova.
Cynthia stood at the foot of her bed, reaching out then pulling her hand back a few times. Her own indecisiveness was driving her insane.
Ever since she had put together that Diantha was back in Wisteria, worry for her sat heavy in her chest.
When she learned of Geneviève's passing, it only doubled that worry. Diantha had sounded so exhausted on the phone the last time they spoke Tuesday afternoon, when she asked for her company. It had left her distracted enough all of the previous day to get Steven's attention. When she explained the situation to him, he sympathized with her, and asked to pass along his regards to Diantha.
"Better to have it and not need it," She reasoned aloud, finally making the decision to bring a small bag with a change of clothes. She could stow it in her trunk, and that way Diantha wouldn't even notice it unless she brought attention to it herself. If Diantha wanted her company for the night, she would be prepared.
Though, as she walked out the door, locking it behind her, she found herself with some anxiety towards the thought.
A memory of telling Avery, "There's no way in hell I'd ever date her again" crept to the forefront of her mind.
Something about the whole scenario felt like it was going against that.
She told herself to not worry over it. She had said it out of anger and confusion, and things had changed since then. No longer did any of that old, deep-seated resentment sit with her. The only thing that did was the overwhelming desire to comfort Diantha during her time of need.
Once in her car, she began to let the engine warm as she dug in her coat pocket for her phone. A new message from Diantha sat on the screen.
"I figure I should warn you ahead of time.
On an impulse I got a haircut that might seem a little drastic."
At that, she found herself with an amused grin.
"Don't tell me anything else. I want to be surprised."
And surprised she was.
An hour later, standing in the doorway to the adorable little brick home Diantha owned, she looked down at the woman who previously had hair down to the middle of her shoulder blades. It was now styled in a pixie cut, that Cynthia quickly realized had her feeling all sorts of things.
Diantha began to fidget under her gaze. "Too much?" She asked, running a hand up the back.
For another second, Cynthia found herself at a loss for words. Desperately, she scrambled for something. "No! Not at all," She said. "It actually– I was thinking it reminds me of when you would do the braid crown, and from certain angles it would look like a pixie cut. You look fantastic." It was at least something, albeit not her most eloquent choice in words.
She smiled a bit, stepping aside to let Cynthia in. "Thank you, dear, and thank you for coming out all this way. I know it's a bit of a drive," she said, standing with her as she took her shoes off.
"Don't worry about it. Like I said, I wanted to be here for you."
For a while, they sat in her living room, catching up with one another. Diantha allowed Cynthia to do most of the talking, doing whatever she could to avoid talking too much about her mother's funeral, and how being in Wisteria made her feel. There was a sting at the back of her eyes that she was desperate to not acknowledge.
Cynthia, however, saw right through it. She knew Diantha's old body language, and was getting increasingly familiar with how it had changed over the years. She still held her hands a specific way, clasped at her front with a tight squeeze, when she was upset.
"So, how are you holding up?" She asked again, but with a stronger emphasis this time.
She shook her head, not meeting her gaze. "When I'm not absolutely demotivated to even move, I get restless and make stupid decisions about my hair."
"I don't think it was a stupid decision," She said a little too quickly.
She tried to laugh. "Thank you, dear Cynthia, but…" She forced herself to stand, restlessness creeping back in. "In truth all I want to do is cry, but it feels pointless to do so. She was an awful woman, and I…"
Standing with her, she made no movement towards her. Diantha kept her back to her, taking a deep breath in a desperate attempt to keep it all in.
Cynthia had enough. "Diantha," She said firmly. "It's okay to cry over her. Trust me, I know just what kind of woman she was. I witnessed a lot of her cruelty first-hand. I know she was awful to you, and nothing will ever excuse the way she treated you, and used you and everyone around her. It's still okay to cry over her."
Diantha immediately turned on her. "But what good will it do? She's not even worth my tears!"
Despite the hostility, Cynthia found herself calm. She knew her anger wasn't with her, it was with herself. "What good will holding all of it in do?"
"I hated that woman, Cynthia! I absolutely hated her! I was nothing but a pawn to her my whole life! She used me and my father! She left my father for some man who didn't even bother to show up to her funeral!" As desperately as she tried to blink away her tears, they had already begun to fall, and her voice cracked along with the mask she had been hiding behind. "And somehow my father still loved her so fiercely he put all that aside to make sure she didn't die alone! The woman from my childhood might have deserved that, but that woman never came back. All I'm left with are memories of the woman who used me to bolster her own image, and the woman who aided in pushing you out of my life."
Opening her arms, Diantha immediately wrapped herself around Cynthia, unable to hold back the tears any longer.
"But I'm back, Diantha, and I'm not going anywhere unless you ask me to."
Despite how comforting it was to hear, it only made her cry harder.
At some point Cynthia had them sit down, and by then, Diantha's body physically could not produce any more tears. All she was left with was a dull headache, and the warm feeling of Cynthia's arm around her.
"When was the last time you ate?" Cynthia asked after a period of silence between them.
She hummed, adjusting herself against Cynthia's side. It was Thursday afternoon. She had definitely eaten since returning from Wisteria, but she couldn't remember precisely when. "Probably not since sometime yesterday," She admitted.
"Well, then, let's get something to eat, because you being hungry is not helping how you feel. Have you had any water today?"
She nodded a yes. "Though, with all the crying I've just done, that probably went to waste." She looked up to Cynthia, with a little amusement. "I showered before my haircut in case that's going to be your next mental health check."
She laughed lightly. "I kind of figured, but I'm just going down the list of things Steven would ask me while we lived together and my mental health was nonexistent."
"I didn't realize you two lived together," She commented.
She felt unsure of whether or not to even bring it up. "Not just lived together, he and I kind of dated for a while."
She laughed a bit, moving away to get a better look of her. "How do you 'kind of' date someone?"
She grimaced. "Sometimes I wonder how he's still my friend, because I was so back and forth with him. One day I would want him, and only him, and then the next I was 'don't look at me, don't touch me, don't anything with me'. Between my mental health and unwillingness to commit to him completely…" She shrugged. "Yeah, it's a wonder he even speaks to me. Therapy probably helped, but still."
"I spent my first three years out here in therapy, so I understand that." The first year had been once every week, then every other week, eventually to once a month until she and her counselor had agreed she would come back only if needed.
She realized now might be that time. At the very least, it wouldn't hurt.
Cynthia brought herself to her feet, offering a hand to Diantha. "Anyways, let's figure out an early dinner. I'll buy."
Diantha stood, not letting go of her hand. "Darling, you don't have to do that."
"I want to," She said with a squeeze of her hand. She knew it was crossing a line they hadn't touched upon since their very first coffee date when Diantha hadn't given her the choice on whether or not she would pay her half. Since then, they had always paid separately.
She decided it was an okay line to cross at that point, and that maybe there wasn't even a point of it being a line anymore.
"Let me go get a little more presentable." At least wiping down her face with a wet cloth would help any redness from crying.
"Alright," Cynthia said, letting their hands slip apart. "Let me know if there's anywhere you want to go."
A few hours later, after a shared meal at a small, crowded restaurant, and a drive that was sat in comfortable silence, they returned to Diantha's house. Together they sat on the couch, talking about how Diantha's trip to Wisteria had been apart from the funeral. She brought up the odd feeling of being there for the first time since Cynthia was back in her life.
It led to reminiscing on a time long gone.
Somewhere along the way Diantha rested her head against Cynthia, which brought her to do the same. Eventually, after a while, the two ended up laying on the couch together, curled up together like something from their past.
Laying in her arms, every part of Diantha's body was exhausted by that point. Everything felt heavy, and the repetitive motion of Cynthia's hands moving up and down her back was enough to leave her dozing off now and then.
"Cynthia," she mumbled, turning her head so her ear was against her heart.
She hummed in response, hand stopping at the small of her back.
Exhaustion had left her with little desire to hide anything. "I'm going to ask you something, but I want you to answer honestly. Not do what you think I need or anything like that," she said.
"Okay."
Despite the unwillingness to hide things, there remained a nervous tremble in her voice. "Will you stay with me tonight? I'm tired of lying to myself by saying I want to be alone."
She heard Cynthia's heart skip a beat, but despite it, she laughed lightly. "I will," she answered.
Her voice was so light and calm, it surprised Diantha. "Are you sure?" She asked, moving so the two of them could return to a sitting position. Though, now, neither of them seemed to be too worried about being too close. The hyperawareness of how close she was to straddling Cynthia was enough to shake her weariness, but it was the dawning realization that it didn't seem like an unpleasant idea that made it almost disappear altogether.
"I actually—" she briefly looked away "—I have a bag in my car with a change of clothes. I figured all of this was hard on you, and I wanted to be able to stay if you wanted me to."
Diantha remained silent as an overwhelming desire to kiss her crept up. The lighting of the room was soft, and there wasn't much of a distance to be closed. Would her lips be as soft as she remembered them being from thirteen years ago?
Forcing herself up, she told herself she wouldn't get that answer. Not when she felt as though she was already getting far more than she deserved.
This time, she offered her hands to Cynthia. "You go grab that, and I'm going to change into something more comfortable. I'll meet you back in my room."
Her body flushed as she said it, remembering having said the exact same words in the past, only with a different connotation.
Cynthia stood without a word, only squeezing her hand before letting go. She didn't trust herself to not say something she would later regret. She was staying the night; she didn't need to risk anything that would make Diantha take back that invitation.
Back to her room, Diantha quickly threw on an oversized t-shirt and some shorts, trying desperately to push away all the thoughts she was deeming far too inappropriate given the situation and timing.
Looking in her bathroom mirror, she was briefly stunned by her appearance. It was going to take some getting used to her new haircut.
She returned to her room when she heard Cynthia's footsteps approaching. She sat down on the edge of her side of the bed. "I sleep on this side, so you're free to the other," She said, watching Cynthia put her bag down by her armoire.
Cynthia looked over at her, taking in the way the light from the en-suite washed over Diantha's features. Drawn in on an impulse, she went to sit beside her, not worried about the distance –or lack of it– between them. "Still getting used to your haircut," She said softly.
Diantha laughed. "Liking it less?" She asked.
She shook her head. "I think I'm liking it even more."
Without thinking, she brought a hand up, motioning as she would have to tuck hair behind her ear, but instead just enjoying the fresh shortness under her fingers. She felt Diantha lean into her hand, and from the depths of her memory, she remembered it was a sensitive, and favorite, spot of hers.
She told herself to pull her hand away, that there was already a line she had crossed tonight and she didn't need to push her luck, but was finding it hard to convince herself to do so. Not when the sight of Diantha biting her lip left her warm. When she met her gaze, her hand fell, resting behind her.
Carefully, but with a sense of urgency, Diantha leaned up to press a kiss to Cynthia's cheek. There was a surge of anticipation as she felt her move, but she quickly got up to return to her bathroom, without another word, to escape the situation. She didn't trust her voice anymore, even for a second. She didn't trust her vulnerability wouldn't start asking for more than she thought would be appropriate.
Cynthia said nothing, only running a hand through her hair, trying to figure out what she would have done had Diantha not got up.
"She's vulnerable, and I'm just feeling too much," she told herself. Now was not the time to complicate things even further.
While waiting for Diantha to finish getting ready for bed, she went over to her bag, retrieving her change of clothes. There had been a time and day when changing around one another was a non-issue, but that wasn't the case now.
She took note of how neat and orderly her room was. The walls were a cool grey like the rest of the house, but went well with her lilac bedspread.
A few photos lined the walls, mostly landscapes from the northern mountains in Wisteria, and a few framed pictures sat atop her dresser. A few were of Diantha and Siebold from across the years, one of them having who she assumed was Siebold's husband in them. It had been many years since she last saw Siebold, so the picture alone was enough to bring a smile to her face.
When she turned around, Diantha stood in the bathroom doorway, watching her.
"You've said Siebold is doing well, right?" She asked, adjusting the sleeping pants in her grasp.
She nodded, resuming her spot on the bed. "Yes. He took over his father's restaurant, Apple of The Earth, a few years ago. His husband, Cress, had owned a small café style restaurant, and so they've both made quite the lives for themselves running all of it. They've been mulling over adopting recently, but have yet to reach a decision."
She laughed lightly. "Any child raised by him would never have to worry about a life of hardship, that's for sure. I assume he has just as an expensive taste as he did when I knew him?"
She laughed along, watching Cynthia stand in front of her. "Hell would freeze over before he gave up his lavish lifestyle."
Cynthia then went to get ready for bed herself, laughing to herself about the thought of how little Siebold had changed, and found herself hoping that she would see him again someday.
Though, as she thought over that scenario, she couldn't imagine Diantha not being involved somehow. Going back to Wisteria with Diantha would surly bring up old memories even more than it was already happening.
When she walked out, the room was now only lit in the dim light from the side table lamp. Diantha had already crawled under the covers, and as Cynthia made her way to the other side, she found herself wishing for a time when it would have just been natural to fall asleep in one another's arms.
Diantha turned her head, watching Cynthia slide in on the other side. She was wishing for the same thing. "Dear Cynthia, again, thank you, I– you." She paused. It had been a flicker of a thought, one she had earlier during dinner, but had been able to push aside. Now, lack of sleep wasn't letting her forget it. "I'm sorry."
Cynthia rolled on her side to face her, confusion clear on her face. "For what?"
There was a noticeable tremble in her voice again. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you when your grandmother passed. You're here for me now, but I wasn't there for you and I should have been and–"
"Hey, hey," Cynthia soothed, leaning up on an arm and reaching out towards her. Carefully, she put a hand on her shoulder. "Don't…Diantha, that's in the past. I can't, and don't, hold that against you. You even said yourself you tried to be there."
"I should have tried harder…"
She ran her hand up to cup her cheek. "Diantha, we could spend the rest of our lives beating ourselves up with what ifs and should haves, but it will never change the past. I'm willing to put it behind me. I'm not saying we have to ignore it, because it obviously can affect how things are now, but…we don't have to let it dictate everything. If that even makes any sense."
Diantha gave her a one shouldered shrug. She went to say something, but stopped herself at the last second, afraid of how it might come across. But in a split-second decision, much like the one made to decide her haircut, she decided to not worry about how it would come across. "How did I get so lucky to have you back in my life?"
Cynthia laughed lightly, easing herself back down so that they now shared the same pillow. "Partially because my sister runs on absolute dumb luck," she only half-joked. How Kay ended up picking out of all the possible school districts the one Diantha happened to teach in could only be summed up by dumb luck.
It at least got a small laugh from Diantha.
Cynthia would take her victories where she could.
"But, apart from that, I can't help but think we came back to each other at just the right time. I think we needed those years apart."
"I would have to agree," She said, snuggling into her even more. Exhaustion had taken ahold of her once again. "Whatever it is, my dear Cynthia, I am glad you're here."
Her breath tickled her neck. "I'm glad I'm here, too, Diantha. Like I said earlier today, I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere unless you ask me to…" Maybe it was a little too forward; too on the nose, but she couldn't be bothered to care. Hearing 'my dear Cynthia' was making her reckless.
