CHAPTER 16: GLASS HALF EMPTY, GLASS HALF FULL

"Your back leg needs to be straight! And bend the knee on the leading leg. There, much better. Center yourself. Feel the energy flow from your core and into the tips of your toes as you kick."

Tifa closed her eyes, trying to focus. The crisp air of the early morning felt good on her skin and the dew was cool under her bare feet. She thought that she would've been nervous to train with Master Zangan, but after a few days she felt much more relaxed practicing in the clearing than she did at home. The old man was kind, guiding her with patience and gentle instruction. Tifa latched onto the peace of his voice. With her master, it was clear what was expected of her. At home, she wasn't always sure what her father wanted from her or what would make him irritable. These days, his patience was always thin and he always wanted to be alone.

It had been two weeks since the night Papa had come home acting strangely. In the morning he came into her room sorrowful and apologetic, saying he didn't mean to frighten her. He had held her, petting her hair and telling her he was sorry for his behavior. Papa said he had been at the tavern and that sometimes, drinking made people act strangely. She nodded like she understood because she was afraid to ask questions. What was he drinking that could make him act that way? That evening he had left a tiny container of cherry candies on her bed as an apology, but she didn't have the appetite to eat them. Since then, he had come home in such a state twice more. But this time Tifa knew to stay out of his way and pretend to be asleep. Each time, there had been another good will gift on her bed the following day. Confused and frightened, she never talked to Papa about it.

She snapped her leg forward as her mentor had shown her, earning his praise.

"Be sure to keep your toes flexed upward. Aim to strike with the ball of your foot so you don't break your toes. Here, practice on my hand," Zangan said, moving to stand in front of her.

Tifa practiced the motion again and again, the orange light of the rising sun growing brighter and brighter. It was almost time to go home. Papa had been adamant that she took her lessons in secret, out of the view of the townsfolk, so she and her master had agreed to meet before sunrise in the clearing outside the village. When it rained or was too cold, she snuck out to take her lessons in the seclusion of her master's little cottage just outside the village. Once she got used to it, she enjoyed waking up early to meet Zangan and thrived in his soothing presence.

"Good girl," Zangan said, his well-trimmed mustache tilting up with a smile. "Much better than yesterday, I'm proud of you. That's it for today—it's getting light out."

Tifa smiled. The praise was like medicine to her bruised heart. Kind medicine, she thought.

Bowing respectfully, she thanked her master before moving to put on her shoes and throw her leather satchel over her shoulder. It used to be used for carrying her school books, but lately she had found many other uses for it.

"Thank you, Master! I promise I'll have my new clothes soon. Ms. Strife said they should be ready within the next few days," Tifa said as she smoothed the skirt of her pinafore.

"It's alright; we'll make do until you get them. But remember, proper footwear is important. I'd recommend some sturdy boots. I won't have you rolling your ankles or hurting your feet."

"I'll ask my father about it," the girl said, though she wasn't sure if she should. It might make Papa angry and she didn't want that!

"Very well. Take care, Tifa."

After a quick goodbye, she raced out of the grassy field. She had a lot of work to do!

Something unnerved Master Zangan as he watched his tiny apprentice hurry away. He had always been a perceptive person and the way Tifa had averted her eyes when they spoke of anything regarding her home life made an uneasy feeling settle upon his heart. Mr. Lockhart had made it known that he wasn't thrilled about this arrangement. Hopefully, he wasn't giving his daughter too much grief about her desire to learn martial arts. It was good for her and the Tifa seemed to be taking well to her apprenticeship. Maybe, the hesitation and reluctance in her eyes meant nothing, but he couldn't be sure.

He'd have to keep a close eye on the girl.

… … …

Saturdays were wonderful. No school, less chores and if he tried, he could stay out of sight of the bullies. Mom had loosened her leash on him now that he'd stayed out of trouble for a while and Cloud was enjoying his freedom by exploring the woods close to home. He had wandered to his favorite spot, the spot he and Tifa used to frequent near the stream, and climbed a nearby tree. Cloud sighed contentedly as he rested his back against the trunk, pulling out his pocket knife to whittle away at the end of a large stick. Relaxed, the boy lazily swung his foot as it dangled off the branch. Before long, the sound of crunching twigs and footsteps on leaf litter snapped him out of his contentment. Cloud withdrew his swinging leg and held fast to the branch on which he was perched, careful to stay perfectly still. Someone was coming up the path, and he wasn't sure that he wanted to be seen.

A small figure appeared in a dirty maroon pinafore, a large satchel draped across one shoulder towards her opposite hip. The girl bent to pick up the occasional stick of appropriate size to place in her bag, hair tousled a bit from her morning session. Cloud's lips tugged upwards in a smile: it was only Tifa. Silent as a stalking cat, he waited until she followed the dirt trail towards him. When she passed under his tree he leapt from the branch with a loud roar, boots thudding on the ground and with arms raised in the air. Tifa squeaked in surprise, startling backwards with such force that she fell on her bottom. Crimson eyes flew up to meet him, wide with fear. Upon realizing the identity of her attacker, she began to giggle and was delighted to hear his joyful laughter join hers. It had been much too long since they had shared such a carefree moment.

"Cloud! You scared me half to death!"

He grinned and extended a hand towards her. Tifa took it, and he lifted her back up to her feet. "I guess I can be cunning when I try. What are you doing out here, anyway? You're always stuck inside with chores."

"I'm collecting wood for the stove," she patted the satchel at her hip. "It's a chore, just one that's outside the house."

"What happened to the firewood your father cut?"

Tifa's eyes turned downward, unsure of how to answer. Papa hadn't cut firewood consistently for weeks, now. Luckily, the weather was warm enough that she didn't have to worry about having a big enough fire in the hearth to stay warm. If she could figure out a way to keep the stove warm enough for cooking, things would be fine. To get by, Tifa had been collecting tinder from the forest floor, for she was too small to be able to wield the axe. Papa had been busy; it wasn't his fault. He'd be back to his old self once he didn't have so much work to do.

When he was home, he spent most of his time in his woodshop where she could hear him sawing and hammering away. The fair weather meant it was prime time for construction and her father had been doing a lot of work reinforcing the lofts of Mr. Ackerman's hay barn. Sometimes he went to the tavern at night; sometimes he stayed home and quietly read the paper or went to sleep early. Tifa wasn't sure which was worse: Papa being out of the house all the time or subtly avoiding her during the time that he was home. Although she was in the house with him, she had never felt more alone. Things were certainly changing in the Lockhart house.

"It's all gone, now. Papa's been busy. It's alright. I'll get enough to cook by! Summer is almost here and we don't need it for warmth."

Cloud didn't question Tifa's answer, but a strange feeling settled in his gut.

"Let me help you," he said, looking around for thick pieces of dry wood. "It'll go twice as fast if we work together!"

It didn't take long to fill Tifa's bag, and Cloud had found enough wood to carry an additional armful back to the village when they decided to leave the forest. She had filled him in on the progression of her martial arts training and took the time to show him the things she had learned. Papa had said that she mustn't tell anyone about her apprenticeship, but she couldn't keep it a secret from Cloud! Last year she had promised to teach him what she learned, and she was going to keep her word. Besides, it was fun! The two practiced together until a thin sheen of sweat dotted their foreheads and they decided to rest. Exhausted, they lay on their backs in a clump of soft grass at their spot by the stream. Cloud wished every day could be like this. Being in Tifa's company fed the confidence in himself that growing (and fighting) had slowly been giving to him as time went by. After all that happened, she still wanted to be by his side and that made him happy. But what would make Tifa happy? What was going to happen to her now that her mother was gone?

"Tifa…" Cloud began, rolling on his side to look at her face. "What do you want to do with your life?"

Closing her eyes, she thought for a long moment.

"I know I'm supposed to get married and have babies. That sounds nice, but…I've been thinking a lot and I want to see what it's like in other places. My mother used to tell me about the sea, and it always fascinated me. I would like to see it, even if it's just once."

She paused to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "I want to know what it's like and why Mama loved it so much. That way, when I do have children of my own, I can tell them stories of faraway things like she used to tell me."

Cloud listened quietly and considered her words. If one thing was certain, it was that as long as he could remember, he had always wanted to give Tifa whatever it was she desired. If he ever managed to grow out of his weakness and become someone worthwhile, may he could take her to the ocean and see the smile on her face as her dream came true. He just wanted to make her happy. But to do that, he'd need money. To earn money, he'd need to have a job. Without a father to teach him his trade, and the thought of being a tailor making him cringe with boredom, Cloud was unsure of what to do. He wanted to be something fulfilling, something exciting. He wanted to be a great hero and make her proud to be by his side.

"What about you? What do you want to do with your life, Cloud?" Tifa turned her head to look at him.

He looked straight into her eyes. How could he ever be a hero if the entire village saw him as a nobody? It seemed like an insurmountable problem.

"I…just want to be someone."

… … …

Cloud had walked her home, depositing his armful of sticks into the large, empty woodbox on her back porch. He didn't linger for long since he was afraid to be discovered by her father, but she was grateful for his company and assistance. When she was very small, she had told Mama that Cloud's hair reminded her of the sun. Her mother had laughed, telling her she was a silly girl, but nowadays it was more apparent than ever that the boy the brightest source of light in her young life. Just seeing his face filled her with peace. Smiling with warmth of gratitude in her chest, she went inside the house. Maybe, if she tried hard enough, she could be a bright light for her father.

Tifa hummed as she set about her chores, sweeping and dusting before wandering to the kitchen to flip through her mother's recipe cards. Sifting through dozens of little slips, she found it hard to decide what to cook for supper. Her skills were very limited and she was growing frustrated looking for something to put together that would be fitting for a novice. One slip of paper was more worn than the rest—Papa's favorite beef stew. She thought for a moment: they had some cured beef in the icebox and she knew how to cook it. But she had never made stew by herself before. Tifa had watched her mother do it dozens of times, surely she could manage if she followed the recipe, right? If it would make her father smile, she'd make him his favorite meal a thousand times!

Tifa immediately set to work. After kneading and setting the bread dough to bake, she began collecting the other ingredients for the stew from the larder and was relieved when she was able to find everything except corn and celery stalks. Satisfied, she began chopping away at the cutting board. It took her much longer than she anticipated, but both the bread and stew were hot and ready by the time Papa had stepped through the front door, looking weary from the day's work. He looked towards her with a gentle smile and it encouraged the girl. She smiled her biggest smile and moved to the parlor greet him, wiping her hands on her apron.

"Welcome home, Papa. I have supper ready!" she stepped towards him with vigor as he removed his boots.

"Is that beef stew I smell?"

Tifa beamed.

"Yes, it is!" she said, smiling shyly at the ground. "You've been working so hard that I thought you might like some."

Papa's hand rested gently upon her head, his calloused fingers running their way through the length of her hair. Tifa closed her eyes at the soft gesture and leaned into his hand, savoring the contact that she craved in the long months since her mother died.

"Thank you, sweet pea. I'd like some very much."