Chapter 4s: Mending (16 July 2000, at church)

It has been forever. Almost forever. Okay, three months.

Adults think children are idiots.

Heck, children think children are idiots.

But Nii-san didn't. Or at least, he didn't treat me as such.

He would not have danced around the matter so much.

'Sorry Setsuka, mom has passed away.'

What is so difficult about that?

Nii-san would have had that courage.

.. alright, I'll admit that I've been in a bit of denial. I guessed it, but didn't really want to accept it. Sure, mom had trouble holding pens and cups and such, but how does someone just disappear like that?

Fake-mom said we could find out in church. So that is where we are going right now. She prefers I call her Clara over that name, but I am not an idiot. Foster parents, fake parents, it's just a few letters worth of difference.

I remember mom who pulled me and Nii-san around in the snow on a sled.

You cannot replace her, fake-mom. You may try, but you can't.

And because you try, you are fake-mom.

There is also a fake-dad, who prefers to be called Chris. I call him Chris, because he leaves me alone.

Except today. He's here too. Together with fake-mom. She probably roped him into it, always poking and prodding me to leave 'my' room. So frustrating!

As we enter the church, the sky-high ceilings elicit an unwanted gasp of wonder from me. If Nii-chan were here, I think I'd feel like a stupid little girl for gasping like that, but I don't really care if these two think of me as a little girl.

Those drawings on the roof are nice.

There's a lot of little statues all around, placed against pillars and on little ledges.

The way the light shines through the coloured windows however, is what makes tears escape my eyes. Dammit, I don't want to cry!

But that is Saint Peter. The sun shines thru right behind him.

It looks heavenly.

Is that where mom has gone?

My hand grabs for the necklace my mother gave me for my fifth birthday, a cute silver cross. Nii-san always called me pretty when I was wearing it.

The fakers are at least considerate enough to let me be for a moment. But eventually we move to a place with a lot of little candles, and fake-mom tells me about praying and believing and trusting and a whole lot of other nonsense.

Will that tell me what you won't tell me?

Do I look like an idiot to you, fake-mom?

Still, I light the candle.

And I pray.

I hold my little cross, and I pray.

I pray for mom.

I pray for dad.

But above all, I pray for Nii-san.

Where are you, my dearest Nii-san?