To Alex-that-was Caroline Price was a god. She was a menace and she was a fright. Alex-that-was spent more of her life pleasing the idea of Caroline, the thought of her. The memories of a six year old are hardly accurate or emotionally stable.
To Alex-that-is, mid-thirties and a mother herself Caroline is a different creature entirely. Alex-that-is wants to curl up to her, and cry. Caroline is as forceful as a hurricane, and fierce. Protective in a way that Alex-that-was never knew.
So when Alex-that-is cries in her arms (and not for the first time, mind you), Caroline embraces her fully, gently, and it only makes Alex cry harder.
"You keep apologizing, dear." She says, and strokes Alex's hair. Alex-that-was rages, lets go of her red balloon and runs away. Alex-that-is sniffles pathetically and smears blue eyeshadow around her face. "Sorry."
Caroline laughs.
This is all in her imagination she realizes too late. This wasn't real, she thinks. She screams her agony all the same into the pavement and feels the smoke and the heat of the exploded car as she rattles her knuckles bloody on the asphalt.
