"Sophia, wake up." I heard a voice in my ear, but I was occupied with playing cards with Uncle John, Aunt Elizabeth, Father, and Edward. I wasn't actually playing; I was watching them play. As I watched, Edward put down the Ace of Spades, and so did Aunt Elizabeth. After a moment of consideration, Father put down the same card, following Uncle John. Then they all looked at me expectantly. Oh. I had forgotten that I was holding cards, too. I fumbled through them for a second, trying to find the Ace of Spades. I had the feeling that I was supposed to put it down, too. But I didn't have it. I looked at them helplessly. They all stared at me for a moment, and then started shaking their heads at me, one by one. First Uncle John, then Aunt Elizabeth, then Edward, then Father. I found myself inside my house. I looked through the window, and they were playing cards, each seated at a table on the pathway. Without me. I banged on the window and the door, but they were both locked. I saw them looking at me with pity in their eyes. Finally, I noticed that Taylor and Mother were in the house with me. I ran to them and hugged them. Mother's mouth opened, and words came out.
"Sophia, wake up!" I awoke with a start. I was lying on the couch in the parlor, and Mother was kneeling beside me. Taylor lurked nearby, watching me. My throat hurt. I realized that I had been screaming in my sleep. I was also sweating.
"Sweetheart, are you all right?" Mother hugged me. There was no trace of the broken woman I had seen at the funeral earlier. I stole a glance at the grandfather clock nearby. It was eight o'clock in the morning. Correction. There was no trace of the broken woman I had seen at the funeral yesterday. "You came in right after sunset last night," Mother explained, "and you looked terrible. You were muttering something about yellow eyes, and then you collapsed on the sofa and slept till now." I could see the worry in her eyes. She thought I was mad.
I sat up on the sofa. "Forgive me, Mother. I must have been half asleep. After all, it was a long day for me." I saw my mother's anxiety visibly lessen. Looking for an opportunity to leave her presence, for fear that I might break down and sob, I noticed that I was still wearing the dirty dress that I had ventured out into the forest in yesterday. "How thoughtful of you to not change my clothes and let me sleep, Mother. Excuse me; I'm going to go change into something…less dirty." Something with less pain attached to it, I mentally added. I stood up, took a few steps, and then staggered. Taylor caught me before I could fall. His eyes bored into mine as he raised me up. I know you're hiding something, they said. I could never hide anything from my twin brother.
I went to my bedroom, more physically stable this time, and changed my clothes. I also took the mourning-dress, secretly went to the back of the house, and threw it in the fire we used for burning waste. I prayed to God that I would not need it ever again. Then I came back inside and found Mother and Taylor speaking quietly together in the kitchen. When they saw me, they stopped abruptly. Mother hesitated, looking at Taylor, and then stepped forward.
"Taylor and I have talked it over,"—Of course. Taylor was the man of the house, now that Edward was gone (Our families had lived together)—"and we think that it would be best for the family if we…if we had a change of scenery…a permanent change of scenery."
"You mean moving, Mother?"
"Yes, moving, dear." She seemed relieved that she would not have to sugarcoat it for me. Taylor jumped in.
"We thought it would be best for you—and us, of course—to adjust to the, er, change." I interrupted him.
"You don't have to say it like that, Taylor. I will never be fine with the death of Edward, or his parents, or Father. But that doesn't mean you cannot refer to the situation as it truly is. For Pete's sake, Tay, I am a grown woman, practically!" I grinned at him, trying, with all my might, to hide the pain I really felt. Fortunately, he smiled back, yet reluctantly.
"All right then; we thought it would be best for us to adjust to the deaths,"—I winced, and I am almost certain that he noticed but didn't question it for my sake—"by moving away and starting anew. A…fresh start." His smile was sad now. "We could go to Father's old house in Alabama, before he and Uncle John came here. It's still owned by our family, some distant cousins. What do you think, Sophia?" His voice was cautious as he uttered that last sentence.
Move away from home? The place where I was born and raised? Where I shared so many memories with my family? The only part of Father, Edward, Uncle John, and Aunt Elizabeth I had left?
"Yes."