Deep Ravine
Chapter 8: Back to the Old House
The palanquin swayed on the shoulders of the servants, a gentle motion that reminded Mai of the seashore and the comings and goings of the waves. With Miyako pressed against her chest, she peeked out from behind the curtains and watched the people, some strolling, some walking briskly, little children skipping along, all excitement and joy.
How many times had she walked this same street, leaving her house with anger and hurt coiled up tight inside, her face an impassive mask? Each time, she'd hoped for a glimpse of Zuko, until he left, of course. Then she hoped for something different.
How many times had Zuko walked this same street, making his way to the house, temporarily her domain, her parents still in New Ozai, freedom theirs to do with as they wished?
She'd lean against the pillars of the house's front porch, arms crossed, casual and bored looking, and never letting the anticipation she felt show to anyone outside. Underneath all that apathy, she bubbled with happiness and love and lust and could not wait to put her hands all over Zuko. He was so warm, all parts of him, and she loved to touch, to press herself up against him, feel the heat of his skin, the firm muscles that worked beneath. She would trail her fingers along limbs and trace shapes on his chest, then his stomach, daring to venture lower sometimes.
They'd made love in that house, in her room, spent long, sweet nights together when all their troubles and worries drifted off into the cool air, leaving them unburdened until the morning sun broke the spell.
It had been a strange time, full of wonder and full of confusion too. Part of Mai felt nostalgic for that period of her life, and part was glad it was far behind her. Zuko was hers now in a way that he hadn't been then. Back from his banishment, home for the first time in three years, crippled by guilt, unsure of just about everything, he was divided, only part of him hers.
Mai gave her head a quick shake. Miyako stirred. She felt the palanquin stop, then rest on the ground.
"We're here, my lady."
She parted the curtains and stepped out with care. The house loomed up before her, white with a red tiled roof and gold trim, just like all the other buildings in Capitol City. She climbed the steps, clutching Miyako, waving the guards aside. They deferred to her and assumed their positions at strategic points outside the house, waiting for her departure.
The red double doors loomed next. Mai knocked and waited. A servant answered, a young woman, enthusiastic and pretty. She must be new.
"Lady Mai!" she exclaimed before bowing and then stepping aside, calling out to Akira. "She's here, my lady, she's here."
"All right, all right, Satori." Akira shooed her away, into the kitchen. "Help Emiko prepare lunch. You'll stay, won't you, Mai?"
The younger woman shrugged. "I suppose."
"Satori, bring some tea now, into the sitting room." Akira turned back to Mai and Miyako. She smiled. "I'm pleased that you're here. Come."
Mai trailed along behind her mother, glancing at the familiar tile beneath her feet, the pictures that decorated the walls, the tables laden with vases stuffed full of flowers from the garden. They passed the kitchen and Mai spied Satori and Emiko, one brewing tea, the other chopping vegetables. The staircase leading to the second floor and Mai's bedroom beckoned her. She wanted to climb to the top and enter her room, shutting the door behind her, suffusing herself in memories.
"Whatever are you thinking about, Mai?"
"Nothing."
That was a lie, of course. Every corner, every room reminded her of some long ago altercation or humiliation or sadness or rage. She recalled favorite hiding spots from when she was a small child; her father's office, the cozy library, the space behind thick, scarlet curtains.
Memories of her and Zuko were everywhere as well, bittersweet ones.
"Are you sure?"
"Nothing that I want to discuss."
"Oh, well then….." Akira was not sure what to say. She fiddled with her hair, a nervous habit. "The tea will be ready shortly," she finally managed. Tea was a safe topic of conversation.
Once they were settled in the sitting room, Mai handed Miyako off to her mother. "She likes the toy you got her." Mai produced it from a pocket inside her robes. The tiny girl beamed and reached for it.
"I'm glad. Oh, Mai, she's perfect, isn't she?" Akira held one of the baby's hands in hers, marveling at the little fingers. "You forget."
Mai's voice broke despite her best effort at control. But her control these days was not what it used to be. "Was I perfect, Mother?"
Looking up, her eyes full of regret, Akira said firmly, "Yes, yes, you were perfect, Mai. But I was too full of my own pain to see that with any clarity."
"I wish you'd told me years ago. I never felt good enough for you or for Dad. All you did was shush me, Mother, shove me into a corner, looking pretty, quiet and pretty and no trouble. But I never felt that you loved me. I hid all that behind my apathy and my sarcasm. I pretended that I didn't care. I made my own world and then I had Zuko and I didn't need you or Dad anymore."
"No, and I don't suppose you need us now, do you?"
'I don't need you." Mai wondered if she could ever admit to something like that. She wasn't ready to be that exposed with her mother, not yet, not after all those years of strain. "But I'd like to have some kind of normal relationship. I'd like Miyako to know her grandparents and to love them."
"I thought, maybe, if I told you about, about my experiences when you were born, that we could start anew."
"I know you did, Mom. And I want that too. I do. But, it's hard to forget everything that happened."
"And forgiveness?"
It wasn't all her mother's fault. She'd been sucked into a void of despair and had no one to help her out. She dealt with it as best she could. She struggled and all while pretending that everything was perfect, perfect so that her society acquaintances and those she called 'friends', those she could confess nothing too, would continue to accept her into their exclusive fold.
Fitting in was important. For a political career to flourish, the kind Mai's father wanted, and Akira wanted for him, the family image must be spotless. The mother must be brisk and efficient and supportive of her husband, but have a hint of softness too, that nurturing quality that made her more approachable. The father must have the right amount of ambition and drive, work hard and associate with the right people. He must keep his family in line, while doting on occasion. And the daughter, she must be well behaved and demure, opinion-less, blank. But she must smile when spoken too, respond in just the right way and then fade away again.
Perhaps all that was an exaggeration, some distorted view of her past. Memory was a strange thing. Perhaps, but some of it was true. Of that, Mai was certain.
Could she forgive? What point was there in holding on to bitterness and anger and resentment? It was doing Mai no good. If she let it all go, she might attain a certain freedom. There was too much heaviness in her heart these days. She wanted to lighten the load.
"I could be a real pain sometimes."
Sarcastic, cynical, pretending not to care about anything, genuinely caring about very little
"Sometimes," Akira agreed. "I guess you had your reasons."
"I guess you had yours."
The two women stared across the space that separated them; two generations, a third in Akira's lap, allowed their eyes to meet and nodded, coming to an unspoken agreement of sorts.
"Tea is ready, my lady." Satori shattered the moment. She glanced at the Fire Lady and her mistress, sensing that something important had just occurred. "Um, shall I pour?"
Akira nodded. So they drank tea and ate lunch and spoke politely. And every so often something more meaningful emerged in the conversation and once in a while laughter sounded.
~~~~0000~~~~
"Did you want to see your old bedroom? Honestly Mai, you look tired. You can lie down up there if you like. I'll watch the baby."
Miyako was fed and dry and happy with her grandmother. Nothing was stopping Mai from climbing the stairs and immersing herself in the past. She was tired. Keeping up the conversation with her mother had taken a lot out of her. She'd bitten back caustic remarks and kept her sarcasm to a minimum in an effort to keep things pleasant. Was that kindness or a betrayal of her personality? Why should she become someone else, some more placid version of herself just to smooth things over?
Yes, compromise was necessary, but if she had to censor every word said to her mother, well, that would entail too much stress. She should be herself, nothing less, nothing glossed over. Then again, Mai realized that sometimes she needed to hold back a little bit, soften her edges. Her words could often be hurtful and bitter.
I'm second guessing everything I do these days. It's like the real me, whatever that means exactly, is lost somewhere in this morass of depression. How am I supposed to act around her? I don't want to pretend. I hate pretending.
"Mai?" She felt the pressure of her mother's hand. "Mai, you drifted away again. Are you all right?"
If I hear that one more time I'm going to scream.
"I'm….no, I'm not really. But we know that already. Honestly, I find this tiring."
"What, visiting me?"
"Yeah."
"Will you tell me why?"
"I feel as though I have to put on an act, tone down my words, so everything is smooth."
"You never worried about that before." Akira chuckled. "Don't. If you're going to be part of my life, I want you, all of you. Don't change anything." She gave Mai's arm a squeeze. "But politeness and consideration are valuable attributes."
"Okay; I think I'll take that nap now." Wearily, she began her journey up the stairs. Turning around briefly, she added, "Thank you."
Akira nodded and adjusted Miyako in her arms. "Rest now."
~~~~0000~~~~
Mai wavered in the corridor for a moment before stepping across the threshold and entering her old bedroom. Nothing was different. That surprised her a bit. She'd imagined her mother turning the room into some sort of private space, converting it into something different.
But the bed, the sofa, the wardrobe, the desk were all the same; the bedding, the shutters, the plants. The portrait of her and Zuko, the one that Mai had insisted on, hung in their rooms at the palace now. She stared at the spot on the wall, the spot her eyes had been drawn to every night before she closed her eyes, and thought about all that the portrait represented.
She'd felt helpless then too, her life with Zuko a fragile thing. His entire world had been in question, everything he was taught to believe in and fight for. She'd sensed his turmoil early on and watched as it grew, unable to do anything but cup his cheek or give him a kiss or hold his hand or lie with him until he fell asleep. Because he'd kept her in a sort of fog, unable to see clearly what his issues were. He would not share his troubles with Mai. He offered cryptic words here and there, vague monologues that only heightened her sense of unease.
So Mai knew how Zuko felt when she shut him out during the first few weeks of Miyako's life. He saw her suffering and wanted to help and she denied him the chance. But tangled up in her own misery, her husband's feelings and worries were inconsequential.
Sighing, Mai glided to the huge window that looked out across the city. It gave a good view of the palace, especially the central tower, and Mai had spent many hours gazing across the distance, wondering what Prince Zuko was doing, and later, if he would ever make it back to his home.
Assuming the same position in the same spot, it was easy to slip into her twelve year old self, thinking about the boy she loved, remembering the precious details of their time together; furtive glances, secret smiles, his hand grazing hers, whispered words. Mai smiled, the expression almost wistful, before leaving the window and curling up on the bed.
Sleep, elusive these past few months, came quickly and if she dreamed, Mai did not recall any of them. Given the nature of her most recent ones, she was grateful. When she awoke, she felt rested and her thoughts were of Zuko. She wanted nothing more in that moment than to go home.
Mai left her mother with a brief hug and a promise to return the following week. It was a promise she intended to keep.
~~~~0000~~~~
"That was a long visit." Zuko raised his one eyebrow.
The force of his deep gold eyes on her almost burned. Was he looking for wounds, fresh mental scars, making certain that she had survived her mother unscathed?
"I'm happy to see you too." It felt good to use snark once more. Mai gave her husband a sly grin.
"Hmmph, how was it?"
"Surprisingly…it was pretty good." She peeled Miyako away from her chest and held her out for Zuko to take. "I had a nap while I was there….in my old bedroom."
Zuko grinned this time. "I have fond memories of that place."
"I spent so much time there, a lot of it unhappy, a lot of it thinking about you."
She stepped closer to Zuko and he put one arm around her while he held on to their daughter with the other.
"How are you?" he whispered.
"Sometimes now I can see a light in all the darkness. It's small, but it's there."
The Fire Lord let out a shaky breath before leaning down a bit to kiss the shell of Mai's ear.
"I can't tell you how happy that makes me." He kissed her again, his lips moving to her cheek. "I love you."
Before she could answer, Iroh burst through the door with a handful of scrolls.
"Replies," he declared. "I thought perhaps that you would like to read them first, Mai." He glanced from one to the other. "Did I interrupt? I'm sorry."
"N, no, it's fine." The new mother looked momentarily stricken. Her eyes widened and she hesitated before taking the letters with a trembling hand.
Be brave.
"Thank you, Iroh."
Mai sat down on the sofa and chose a letter at random, not looking at the seal. With exaggerated care she tore it open and began to read.
~~~~0000~~~~
A/N: Thanks to those who read and those who go the extra step and leave me reviews. Special thanks to M.O.D. whose love and support inspire me every day.