CHAPTER 11: SLIPPING UNDER

"That'll be one hundred gil, please."

Tifa reached into the pocket of her winter coat and produced the handful of coins her father had given her. Mama was very sick. When Tifa had come down with the flu a few weeks ago, her mother had contracted it soon afterward. Although Mama healed quickly and seemed to bounce back, she developed a cough shortly after accompanied by a fever. She hardly got out of bed anymore. Father had sent for a doctor that lived down the mountainside that came to visit from time to time, checking up on her mother and prescribing medicine as he saw fit. Papa was nervous and short tempered because of it, so Tifa made sure to be quiet and obedient.

Just as there was no doctor in Nibelheim, there was also no proper apothecary, so Tifa frequently found herself with the duty of picking up Mama's medicine at the dry goods store. She felt useful to even do this small task for her father, for he had been so busy fussing over his wife: cleaning sheets, placing cool washcloths on her burning skin and combing her long hair. Miss Carrie Hagen smiled down at her as she handed her the small paper bag with a thank you and a nod. Tifa numbly took the bag in her hands.

"Don't worry, Tifa! It's sure to work this time," Carrie said upon seeing the gloom on Tifa's features.

She sure hoped so. None of the medicines seemed to be working and they kept getting more expensive. Mostly, they just made Mama sleepy.

"Thank you, Miss Carrie."

The clerk leaned against the desk pensively for a moment. Feeling sorry for the little girl, she took the lid off the glass jar of lemon candy and handed two of the sugary orbs to Tifa. It was the least she could do.

Tifa looked up in surprise, "Oh—for me?"

"That's right. One for you and one for your mother."

Tifa smiled and tucked the bright colored candy into the pocket of her apron. After quickly bowing in thanks, she hurried out the door. Although it was nearing the end of March, the nipping chill of winter still hung in the breeze. Despite that, town square was bustling with activity. Villagers moved about, eager to be in the spring air and out of the house, and Tifa's friends were among them. Normally, she would have called out to them and asked to play but she was too worried about her mother to want to do anything else but bring her medicine to her. Her hand froze on the doorknob of her front door when she heard a familiar voice call her name; Jim, Jason and Thomas were hurrying towards her.

"Hey, Tifa! What's in the bag?" Jason skid to a stop in front of her. Jim and Thomas had caught up in a matter of moments, panting and smiling.

"Just my Mama's medicine," Tifa answered. The boys were immediately disinterested.

"Hey, can we play on your tire swing?" Thomas asked.

"Alright, just don't be too loud, okay? My mother needs to rest. I'll be right there, let me put this inside."

The boys raced through the side gate as Tifa disappeared into the house. Papa thanked her for picking up the medicine with an affectionate rub on the head and said she could go and play. Life had changed drastically in the house since Mama had fallen ill. She wasn't allowed to see her mother much for fear that she would catch the same illness that had settled in Mama's lungs and it made her feel disconnected from her. Papa was so busy working and taking care of his wife that he no longer had time to tell Tifa stories or take their walks in the forest. Tifa felt awfully lonesome these days. Her friends didn't seem to understand. It was nice to have them to play with and distract her from the situation in her home, but the time with them did little to console the anxiety and unease in her heart.

"So what do you guys want to do?" Jim asked, rocking lazily on the tire swing. Jason had perched himself in the old oak tree—on the same branch on which the tire swing was tied with thick rope. Thomas was drawing pictures in the wet sediment of the sand pit.

"We could go see what the blacksmith is making today," Jim continued. "Or maybe we could go and see if there's anything growing in your dad's cabbage field yet, right Jason?"

Jason shook his head, "Nah…Pop doesn't want me playing outside town square for now. Your Pa told him about the wolves that got two of the sheep from your pasture and he's still spooked."

"Can we go check out your barn then?" Thomas asked Jason. "We can play with Dot and the mules."

"Alright, let's go!"

Tifa wasn't paying much attention as she plucked at the blades of grass where she sat. She wasn't aware that the boys got up to leave until she felt Thomas's hand gently grab her wrist to help her to her feet.

… … …

The cheerful chatter of the children in the yard prompted Lia to open her eyes. She felt so weak and unrested, despite being mostly bedridden for weeks. It was pneumonia, the physician had said. The disease had settled itself in her lungs somehow, making simple breathing a painful ordeal. Coughing was agonizing and her rising and falling fever made her delirious at time. The chills were bothersome and the breathlessness was troublesome, but nothing hurt worse than seeing the frightened faces of her family. Tifa had noticed that this was no small cold, for sure, but didn't understand the severity of the situation. Brian did. His grim countenance haunted her feverish dreams and her heart ached for him.

Her husband had been so attentive and wonderful throughout her illness. He always made sure she was warm and comfortable with heaps of blankets and hot tea that soothed her aching throat. Brian would spend long hours laying quietly beside her, endlessly walking beside her in her time of uncertainty and illness. Lia was so grateful for his kindness, his dedication, and his companionship, especially since the day the package had come.

A week ago, Brian had come home with package from the post office wrapped neatly in heavy brown paper. It was addressed to her, and Lia didn't recognize the handwriting that had scrawled her name on the package's delivery slip. She did, however, recognize the address: it was from her little village in Wutai. Lia had opened the package with haste but froze when she saw its contents. There were two small wooden mortuary tablets, one with her father's name and one with her mother's name. The hastily written letter from her parents' neighbor confirmed Lia's deepest fears: her mother and father had been killed when ShinRA soldiers had carried out a raid in the village.

She didn't know how to grieve, so she sat at the piano bench and played for as long as she could. Even as the fever made her disoriented and she wearily slumped forward against the keys, she wouldn't let Brian take her away. She hadn't meant to let Tifa see her cry, but at that moment she just didn't have the strength to hide her sadness. Since then, Lia was sure the news had taken its toll on her already weak body. Brian now cooked, cleaned and washed the clothes in addition to his own work and she felt guilty that she was no longer of any help to him. She had learned that marriage was a partnership that needed all of its parts to be working smoothly. Her illness had shoved a stick in the spokes and shifted the balance of the house. Brian was suffering under the weight of his profession, taking on the household chores and struggling with his fear and her daughter was left out of the loop purposefully to protect her from undue grief. She had broken the delicate balance a family needed to function well and Lia felt guilty not only for being unable to play her role, but for frightening them as well.

Once she was back on her feet, she'd be sure to make it up to him and Tifa.

… … …

Papa had forgotten about supper again. The house was so quiet that Tifa flinched when she opened the door to the larder and it protested with a loud creeeak. She took out the container of dried fruit and package of rice crackers to eat as a makeshift meal. Mama had taught her to make a few kinds of soup, how to bake bread and also how to put together a handful of casserole recipes, but without the heat of the wood stove she couldn't cook a thing! Papa must've forgotten to chop fire wood, too.

The bread box was empty, but the milk bottle wasn't. She poured herself a glass and was about to sit at the lonely kitchen table before deciding against it and climbing the stairs with her meal in tow. Papa had gone to meet with Thomas's father who owned the town's inn—something about a water pipe breaking and new wooden floors would be needed. Usually, Tifa was not allowed to eat in her room, but Papa was out and she had a plan. She set her food on the bedside table and chewed on a dried apricot while staring at the keys on the piano. Tifa had gotten quite good over the years of learning how to play under her mother's tutelage. Maybe if she showed her Mama how well she had learned, it might make her feel better. Rolling up her sleeves, she set to work, playing as gracefully as she could.

Tifa stopped when she heard her mother cough and wheeze for breath in the neighboring room. She rushed into the hallway and peeked into the room to see her mother bent over in her bed, a slender hand holding a handkerchief to her pale face. When Tifa paused to take in the sight, she realized that Mama didn't look much like herself anymore. Her once rounded, rosy cheeks were now pale and angled. The shine was gone from her silky air and there was no longer a brilliant twinkle in her eyes.

"Are you alright?" Tifa asked with a small tremble in her voice.

Lia smiled at her daughter and straightened up as best she could before waving her inside.

"Come here, Tifa," she beckoned softly. "You play so beautifully; I'm proud of you."

"I was playing for you, Mama."

Tifa didn't hesitate to come to her mother's side. She climbed up on the bed and sat so that her hip was pressed against Lia's. Even though she wasn't supposed to be this close to her mother, the girl had craved the comforting feel of her mother's presence in the weeks that she had been denied that luxury. Tifa knew that it was difficult for Mama to talk, for the illness in her lungs made it hard for her to catch her breath. The girl spent the better part of an hour slowly brushing her mother's hair, rubbing her arms and telling her about the happy things that had happened that day. If no other medicine was working to heal Mama, maybe kind medicine would. Suddenly, she remembered the candy that Miss Carrie had given to her.

"Oh—I almost forgot! I got lemon drops from the dry goods store. One for you and one for me," Tifa pulled the candies out of her apron pocket, putting one of the cheerful yellow orbs into her mother's hand.

Mama smiled and slowly lifted the candy to her lips. A grim realization dawned on Tifa as she watched her mother struggle to do the simplest of things. What if her mother never got better? She simply couldn't live without her mother!

"It's delicious, Tifa." Mama smiled the biggest smile she could muster and reached over to cup her little girl's cheek.

Tifa closed her eyes at the sensation. Everything would be alright, wouldn't it? Mama would be well again. She just needed some cheering, that's all. When she had asked why her mother was so sad, Papa had said it was because grandma and grandpa had gone to heaven. It was hard for Tifa to sympathize until she had understood that grandma and grandpa were her mother's Mama and Papa. Deciding that she needed to be a source of comfort, Tifa put on her brightest smile and continued to tell her mother about her cheery adventures with the boys and about how spring was finally coming.

As the minutes went by, Lia grew more and more fatigued. She leaned back against her pillows and reached to pull Tifa into her side. Mama could no longer sing to her; her lungs were far too weak. The girl rested her head against her mother's chest and began to softly hum her favorite lullaby.