Stand Up For Us

by sciencegeeky

The Disciple, before she was the Disciple, was Dianna Leijon, a short girl with a crush, two best friends, and a hell of a lot to prove to her mother.

9. Mother and Father

1 May 1612

I've been trying to avoid the topic in my head, but Father's coming home soon. Mother's been drinking so much recently I'm not sure she remembers. I think he'll be home in about a week.

Well, Mother remembered partly. Enough that she started obsessively cleaning the house and sent me to buy nice food at the market. And she tried to make me put on makeup yet again. I'm sick to death of it.

2 May 1612

My father comes home twice a year:

Once in late November

Once in early May.

He gives me a toy

From a far-off land

Asia or Africa or India

Somewhere I've never been

And he pats me on the head

And says, "Happy birthday, son," (In November)

Or, "I'm proud of you, John," (In May).

And he eats dinner with Mother and me

Spends one night here

Leaves in the morning

And goes on his merry way.

But…

I'm a girl

In a girl's body.

I was born in August

August twenty-second, a stormy Sunday

And the toy is for a little boy

(Five or so)

And he says a number at least three years

From my age.

Last November, he said thirteen.

I was sixteen.

And my name's not John

Or Joan, or Jane, or Jean

Or even something common like Mary.

It's Dianna

(Like the huntress

Like the goddess).

My father comes home twice a year

And each time

He forgets a bit more.

And there's my poem for 1612.

3 May 1612

Father left today and he left me with that awful loneliness again. It's just…he's my father. Isn't a father supposed to be proud of his children? Maybe I'm not his daughter by blood, but he's still supposed to be my father! It would…it would just be nice if someone was proud of me, for once.

4 May 1612

I think Dolora's nervous about visiting the city. We were trying to think of something to tell Mother and Dolora stood up and started pacing and just generally fidgeting a good deal. Maybe the woman she loved lives in the city and she's worried about seeing her again. I certainly would be.

A whole stack of letters came for Dolora today and she read them all faster than I've ever seen anyone read. When I asked, she just said. "My friends," and held one letter tight enough to wrinkle it. "From the city." So I nodded and left her alone. She must be tense, waiting to see her friends like that. And maybe even the woman she loves.

5 May 1612

Today we practiced some fancy calligraphy and I was tired and my hand was shaking, and Sigmun said, "Here. Let me help." He rested his chin on my shoulder and held my pen hand in his and his chest was pressed against my back and he guided my hand across the page to write the alphabet in neat calligraphy letters. I could feel every single movement of his body and every single beat of his heart and his hand on mine was warm and soft and strong and I felt my whole face heat up and turn crimson. Simonn smirked and I glared at him.

Anyways, Sigmun helped me write my name and I'm probably going to keep it because I'm just a sentimental idiot that way.

7 May 1612

We went into the village today and apparently it's Hannah's sister's birthday.

"Eleanor?"

"Eleanor. She's fourteen today."

"I thought you only had two sisters," Neolla interjected.

"Eleanor doesn't talk to people much. She keeps to herself," Hannah said quietly.

"Like you?" Mariek teased. I glared at her.

"Kind of…" Hannah said. "But she doesn't have anyone like you guys."

"Too bad," I said. "Does she just not talk much?"

"Yeah. She likes being alone. Not like Alice or Dorothy." (Alice is ten, Dorothy nineteen.)

"You know, you could've made less of a deal of turning sixteen, but I'm not sure how," Neolla pointed out. "What was that, March…sixteenth?"

"Mm-hmm. But with Simonn's mother and everything—"

"Right. because you looooove him," Mariek taunted. Hannah blushed the color of red wine and looked at her feet.

"I just…I just like him. A lot. Like I'm full of butterflies."

"That's what it's like to be in love. That, and being run over by a horse and then falling out of a tree," Mariek said. She certainly put her finger on what I feel about him. I used to think Mariek's loves were mostly lust, but now I think she must know how it feels to be in love.

8 May 1612

I dreamed about the two girls again. In this one, the older girl held out something to me. It looked like an old book, bound with leather and pages swollen with handwritten words and water stains and age. "Yours," she said. "Yours." She kept talking, but all I heard was "yours" and (once or twice) "thank you." I tried to take the book, but I could never quite reach it, no matter how hard I tried. The younger girl had a book, too, but it was new, and she held it close to her chest. I think they were both journals, but the old one didn't look like it was mine.

I talked to my friends about my weird dreams of the two girls today.

"Do you guys ever have weird dreams? Like, really weird dreams?"

Simonn gave me a look.

"Sorry."

"Sometimes I have dreams about these two boys, one who's a bit younger than me and one who's a little older, and I think they're from the future too," Sigmun said.

"What?!" I kind of screamed.

"Wait—" Simonn said. "You have those dreams too?!"

"I do too!" I added. "And you can't talk to them, but they look like you, but—"

"Not enough to be you? And they look like siblings?" Sigmun added.

"They even have the two different eyes!" Simonn said. "And the right one's blue and the left one's brown."

"The older girl in my dreams is always carrying a baby," I said. "And I think she knows me."

"The older one in my dreams always looks like he's really frustrating about not talking and the younger one always looks annoyed," Sigmun said.

"I don't know if the older one is okay or not in my dreams because he always looks like he's somewhere else in his head. And the younger one looks annoyed, too."

"The younger one is my dreams always looks kind of guarded," I said. I just couldn't believe they had these dreams, too. And I saw Dolora watching us carefully, like she maybe had that sort of dream as well.

"This is weird," Simonn said. "So not only do I accurately predict my sibling's survival, we all dream about pairs of people who look like us and each other…who we've never met but who sometimes know us?"

"I think that's just me," I said. "She seems like she's got something very important to tell me."

"Huh," Sigmun said. "I wonder what it means."

"Beats me," Simonn said. "Unless they're important people from our futures. I'd prefer we'd be the important people in each other's futures, but who knows."

"This is surreal," Sigmun added. He shook his head and I nodded.

What on Earth are these dreams about?

9 May 1612

I want to cry and I don't know why. Or, I don't know what particular thing it is. Maybe it's Mother screaming at me that I will never be loved, and I will never deserve love, and screaming at me for every insecurity I possess, which is a good number. Maybe it's that I tried, I really did try, to tell him today, and all I could do was stammer and then run home. Maybe it's that my throat hurts from screaming and thirst and just being so tired. Maybe it's just that I know how hopeless and useless I am.

Usually I curl up on my bed and bury my face in my knees when I want to cry, so at least I can cry without the world watching. (That's how it feels. Lonely and yet watched.) But I've taken to writing recently. I don't know if it's better for me or not, but I certainly hope so.

11 May 1612

Being friends with him is so hard sometimes. I like his friendship, and I would never give up my best friend for anything, but it's hard being so close to him all the time because it reminds me of how I'll never be able to tell him I love him. Whenever he's close to me, I feel almost more real. I feel like his skin is covered in needles whenever he touches me, but in a good way. I hug my friends a lot (at least partially out of habit) and whenever I hug him, I feel his whole body pressed against me and it's very…I don't know the word. I just feel excited and nervous and a little bit in love.

I wonder, if Sigmun were to love me, would he still be my friend? Can you be friends with someone you love? I've heard it said that the best marriages are to people who are also best friends. Most marriages are arranged and the two hardly ever meet beforehand, so how you can marry a best friend remains a mystery to me.

12 May 1612

We plan to try to spend the night in the woods on June sixth. I think that'll be an adventure.

I had that dream again. That awful, awful nightmare. I hate it.

13 May 1612

I'm feeling flustered again because today, when we were reading after working on the bridge, he kissed me on the cheek. I am completely aware that it's ridiculous, but it's still making me blush. He was reading and Simonn and I were listening and I heard him cough and then he said, "I'm gonna get some water."

"S'alright, I got it," I said. It's just polite.

"Oh. Thanks," he said. I poured three cups of water and brought them back. I gave one to Simonn, who said, "Thanks," set one on the table for myself, and I handed one to Sigmun. "Thanks, Dianna," he said. I sat next to him on the couch and he didn't say anything for a moment, then he leaned over and pressed a kiss on my cheek. I felt my face start to burn and my hands felt shaky, like I was a sapling in a tornado. it was that overall feeling of falling out of a tree all over again.

How am I going to deal with this?

15 May 1612

Mother tried to make me try on a white dress today, as if I wouldn't figure out she intended it for a wedding dress. Besides that I want to make my own wedding dress, I don't want to get married! How hard is that to understand? How hard can it be for her to just let me be? I even learned to lace up my bodice on my own so I wouldn't have to rely on her; can't she realize that?

I wonder if she wants to believe I need her, or at least that I love her.

16 May 1612

Mother tried to cut my hair today! With scissors! I'm so mad I could scream! It's not fair! She can't choose what I will do with my hair! I have the same right to choice as she does!

At any rate, I got away from her and when I came home from working on the clearing, Mother had shorter, roughly cut hair and I don't know if I'm crazy or not, but I think I saw her crying.

17 May 1612

I feel a little confused. I have this anger towards Mother, and I don't love her, and I wish I could escape her, but I know she's heartbroken and though I make her sadder, I suppose I could make her happier. If I tried, I could put on makeup and wear the right sort of dress and marry the man she wants me to, but then I'd be miserable for the rest of my life. Maybe it's selfish, but I don't want that.

What do I do?

20 May 1612

Simonn was squinting at something in the distance today and he asked us what it was.

"That's a coyote, Simonn," I said. "Are your eyes okay?"

"How can you see that? It's just a big blur!" he said, squinting more.

"Simonn?" Sigmun said. "I think you might need eyeglasses."

"Oh, that's just great," Simonn snapped. "I can't afford them!"

"Don't worry, you can save up," I said. "You'll be able to get some soon, I'm sure."

"Yeah, I guess," Simonn said grumpily. Poor Simonn. I can't even imagine having bad vision; it must be bizarre.

21 May 1612

Is it so wrong to desire the presence of another person in one's life? Is it really so wrong that I want Sigmun to be in my life differently than he is now? Is it such a crime to fall in love?

23 May 1612

We stayed inside from the storm today. Simonn and I dried out by the fire while Sigmun paced nervously. He's never liked thunderstorms. I think it's probably an old fear because Dolora said she found him right after a thunderstorm. I'd be scared of thunderstorms too.

But as it is, I rather like them. I like the rain and I like the loud thunder and I like the bright flashes of lightning. I like it best when it's warm out and I can stand in the rain and it's not cold and miserable. It feels…cleansing. I feel like I can wash away everything my mother piles on me and everything I pile on myself. And I love how loud the thunder is, how bright the lightning can be; I like how it overwhelms the senses and lets you exist in a world of only light and sound just for a second.

Maybe I'm crazy, but I love storms.

24 May 1612

My life is dull. I wake up, I get ready, I eat breakfast, I go to Sigmun and Dolora's, we read or work on one of our projects or explore, I go home, I eat dinner, I battle with my mother, I write, I go to bed. Nothing interesting happens to me.

Simonn noted that today while he and I were talking.

"We read, we work on projects, you stare at Sigmun until I could cut the tension with a knife—"

"Will you drop it? I said June."

"You're running out of time," Simonn reminded me.

"I know! Believe me, I know! Can we just go read or something now?"

"Fine."

So we read a book on Russian grammar while water dripped from the trees outside and I watched Sigmun read because he is quite stunning and I like looking at him.

26 May 1612

I could tell Sigmun was upset today and I was worried about him. Simonn stopped by for a few minutes, just long enough to say that his brothers had been fighting the other day and now he has to stay home with them for the day. He had that look that makes me remember how much he cares for his siblings.

At any rate, Sigmun and I went to the clearing and sat in the pine tree, about halfway up. That's where the best branches for sitting are. And like I said, I could tell he was upset. "Sigmun? What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"If I believed that, I wouldn't be asking."

He didn't speak for a long time. "I found her."

"Who?"

"My birth mother."

"Oh." I swung around to his branch and sat next to him. "What happened?"

"Well, you know how I say I don't remember it? I don't remember her?"

"Yeah."

"Well…I guess I'm not entirely truthful about that."

"I know."

"What?!"

"Sigmun, you remember your name."

"Oh yeah… Sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry for. It's not exactly fun to talk about. Anyways?"

"Well, I remember her some, too. And yesterday, I was in the market alone, because you know how Simonn and you left kind of early, and I saw this woman and I thought I recognized her. She sort of looked at me for a really long time before she asked me if my last name was Vantas. And I told her it was, and she looked me up and down and said, 'May I speak with you?' So I said yes, and we went to the park, and she asked me if I was sixteen, and I said yes, and she asked if I remembered her. And I did, I mean, she looked just like all my memories of my birth mother, which I guess aren't many, but I have a couple. Except…much older. And I said yes, I did, and she asked me how I was alive, so I told her about Mama. And she sighed and said, 'You know, you were supposed to die.' So I asked her what she meant and she told me she abandoned me because she wasn't married and I was supposed to die. Then she sighed again and said, 'I hope I never see you again. Goodbye.' And she just stood up and walked away." He'd sort of curled in on himself like he does when he's upset and I know it's because he's trying to protect himself. "I was supposed to die! What does that mean? She wanted me to die! She wanted me to die…" He kicked the tree trunk and I hugged him because he was so upset and I felt bad for him. His own birth mother planned for him to die!

"I'm sorry, Sigmun. That's horrible."

"She wanted me to die…"

"Well, I can tell you that Dolora certainly doesn't. And I don't. And neither does Simonn. Nor Neolla, or Mariek, or Sumner, or Candas, or Orvill, or Grantt, or Hannah. You know, we all care about you a lot. You're my best friend." Seeing him sad makes me sad, too. I don't know why, but when my friends are upset, I feel upset, too. Especially him. I've seen him crying and I've seen him afraid and stressed and angry and everything. I've seen Simonn that way, too. I think that's one of the most important parts of being best friends; that you've seen them in every state and you still like them and care about them.

"I always thought that if I ever found my birth mother, she might at least care about me, or regret abandoning me, or something. She never wanted this for me…she never wanted me to live." He sounded halfway between sad and angry and I felt so bad for him, because I don't care how much a mother regrets being a mother, she shouldn't tell her child that they were suppose to die. I knew there was nothing I could say to make it better, but I tried.

"You know what? She's not your mother if you don't want her to be. She doesn't have to be your mother. I mean, it's your choice."

"She's not my mother," he said angrily. "If she wanted me to die, then she's not my mother."

"And you never have to see her again. Hey, Sigmun?"

"Hm?"

"D'you remember when we were really little and we went swimming the second-ever time?"

"And I nearly drowned?"

"And Dolora pulled you out of the river and told you never to try something that reckless again."

"And she screamed at me and hugged me so tight I thought she'd break my bones."

"So you remember that? Because I think that's why Dolora's your mother. Because she loves you. You can choose, Sigmun."

"She's definitely my mother. I don't care who my birth mother is. If she wanted me to die, then she's not anything close to my mother."

I hugged him again and I ruffled his hair (he pretends to hate it when I do that, but I can tell he doesn't mind). "Hey," I said. "It's alright. Sometimes, the people you're related to by blood just aren't the best people to call family." I know that all too well.

"Thanks, Dianna."

"Any time. What are best friends for?"

He smiled and even though I could still see the heaviness in his eyes, I could also tell he was feeling much better. "You're the best, Deedee."

"Shut up…Siggy!"

"Okay, shut up! You know I hate being called Siggy!"

"And I hate being called Deedee!"

"Then don't call me Siggy!"

"You started it!"

He stuck out his tongue and made a face. "Come on, let's go pick berries."

"It's May! None of them are ripe yet."

"Early berries get ripe round now!"

"How are you always this energetic?" Even though part of it was a front, he at least had the energy for that.

"Because I like to put things behind me! The past is the past and there's nothing you can do to change it, so you might as well learn a thing or two and then keep on moving."

"You are so…I don't even know what!" I laughed, because he is! There's some indescribable quality about him that I just really like.

He laughed (a bit weakly) and basically slid down the tree. We're all good and tree climbing, and he's good at getting out of trees fast. He always wins at tag. But I always win at hide-and-seek. I don't care that games are childish; I think they're fun. I'd rather be childish longer because adults always seem so sad or bitter or drunk or lonely.

I hope Sigmun doesn't meet his birth mother again because she doesn't seem like a nice person and she's not good for him. I want him to be happy.

29 May 1612

Simonn said he heard a ghost story in the village about a spirit who waits on the road to the city and preys on men who are unfaithful. Apparently her husband in life started going to prostitutes, and one night she came home from the city and found him with one of them and killed both before killing herself and now she's cursed to wander the path there. A man from our village recently disappeared on the way to the city and they say he wasn't faithful to his wife and it must be the ghost.

I prefer to tell the story about the children who went into the woods and were eaten by wolves, because I know there are no wolves in our woods. The most dangerous animal around here is a coyote.

31 May 1612

Mother tried to make me use that awful hair thinner again and I escaped by yanking myself away from her and throwing the whole bottle out a window. She screamed how awful I was and how much I must hate her, to do this to her. I don't know if I hate her, but I certainly dislike her, and I most definitely don't want to show her any affection. I don't think she deserves it.