CHAPTER 18: HOPE FOR THE LONESOME

The class was restless, everyone fidgeting in their seats as the minutes slowly ticked by. There was whispering and hushed giggling as the students anticipated their dismissal. Mrs. Nelson rapped her ruler on the edge of her desk a few times and silence fell upon the room once again. Cloud focused on the arithmetic problems on his slate, trying to sit as still as possible. He was quite mature of mind for a ten year old boy, but all the hubbub had him antsy as well. The scent of freshly baked pastries floated into the schoolhouse on the crisp, autumn air and it made his mouth water. Tonight was the annual harvest festival and everyone was so excited! Even his mother was energetic and eager to bake her apple strudels and bring some of her linen wares to sell.

Guests from neighboring villages would be visiting for the event, and with them would come a slew of new things to buy and new food to taste. There was always music, plenty of games to play and sometimes even a magician would come! Cloud could hardly wait to explore what the festival had to offer with his best friend. Last night, as they leaned their heads out of their bedroom windows, Tifa had told him that she was looking forward to enjoying the evening with him. His face had felt hot after that and the boy couldn't understand why there was such giddiness in his heart long after he laid his head down upon his pillow.

After a half hour more, Mrs. Nelson had given up. With an exasperated sigh, she dismissed them for the day. There was a collective cheer as the children gathered up their belongings, anxious to get home and prepare for a fun evening of games and excitement. Cloud lingered behind, purposely taking his time to gather his things until the bullies were gone before making his way out the door and into town square. A dozen men were busy building wooden vendors' booths, hanging decorations of brightly painted paper and rolling large barrels of ale over the cobblestone. His curious eyes wandered through the scene for a while until he spotted Mr. Lockhart cutting wood at the table-saw nearby. To his horror, the man glanced up, making brief eye contact. Startled, Cloud flinched and averted his gaze before quickening his pace toward his home.

He hadn't interacted with Tifa's father for more than half a year and had no intention of seeking out the man's attention. Was Mr. Lockhart one of the people who thought he pushed Tifa off the bridge? He couldn't believe that—wouldn't Tifa have been forbidden from seeing him if he did? Something inside Cloud wanted to approach the man and tell him all that had happened on that day, but he feared making things worse by reminding him of the incident. It was just safer to stay away from him, and Cloud was good at being invisible. He reached his home in short minutes.

"Hey, Mom. School let out early because of the festival," Cloud said as he closed the front door, letting the sweet scent of baked treats delight his senses.

The kitchen was an absolute mess, with just about every bowl and mixing utensil they owned spread on the table and over the counter. Bits of apple jam and pale dough dotted the area, along with dustings of white flour.

"Oh, good! You can help me!" said an exasperated voice, somewhere behind the mountain of cookware and debris.

Claudia rose from where she had been removing her baking sheet from the oven. Her hair was messily pulled back into a high ponytail and there was flour smeared across her cheek and forehead. Cloud grinned at her sloppy appearance.

"What?" she asked, pausing to raise an eyebrow at her son as she set down the tray.

"Nothing," he almost laughed. "You're just covered in flour!"

She watched the boy closely for a moment before launching toward him with flour covered hands. Cloud balked and tried to avoid her, but Mom was too quick. After wrestling Cloud around a bit, he ended up with finger trails of flour across his face and neck. There were splotches of white on his navy blue school shirt where she had tickled his ribs. Soon, they were both smiling and catching their breath from their place on the kitchen floor.

"Since when was my little Cloud such a hypocrite? Come on, you can slice the apples."

… … …

To Brian, October's harvest festival was both a blessing and a curse. It provided him with enough work to be continuously busy for the few weeks of preparation and some extra pay to boot. The distraction from the dull turn his life had taken was welcome. The physical exhaustion helped his insomnia and let him slip easily into dreamless slumber and he'd been rising well rested in the mornings. But even toiling and hammering and sawing day in and day out wouldn't rid him of the haunting memories. Last year, he had enjoyed the festivities as he grasped Lia's hand with his right one and Tifa's little fingers with his left hand. His heart was full and he was so proud of his little family. He remembered Tifa smiling and laughing as she bounced beside him in her pretty blue dress. Lia had squeezed his hand and leaned into his shoulder with that lovely, gentle smile on her face.

She had been so beautiful that night, adorned in a flowing crimson garment from Wutai. The rich red hues of the kimono enhanced her wine colored eyes and the interwoven golden threads made her glisten in the lantern light. Brian remembered the how the long sleeves made her look so elegant and otherworldly as her golden hair ornament twinkled in the light that it caught. His stunning, foreign beauty was the envy of all of the other men since the giddy newlyweds had moved into the house in town square. He had spent many a night lying by her side and wondering how he managed to get so lucky.

No amount of work or distraction by festivities could keep the pain and bitterness at bay. Currently, Tifa walked along beside him, taking in the sights and sounds of merriment around her. Brian watched her carefully. Except for the roundness of her face, the girl had lost any remaining baby fat from toddlerhood. Her lean, lanky figure was foreign to him and he found himself longing for that chubby little toddler who used to run to meet him as he come home from work. Now, her hair had grown far past her shoulders and Brian couldn't help but notice that her resemblance to his darling wife intensified as she grew. Tifa's round face, long hair and large, doe eyes were the mirror image of her mother's. It made resentment rise in his heart. His rebellious daughter's carelessness had taken Lia from them. Tifa's solemnity and quiet presence were nothing like the way she used to be or anything like how her mother had been. For some reason, it made him so angry that Tifa could dare to look like the graceful, soft spoken, gorgeous love of his life. It just wasn't fair.

It was a dangerous way to think. Though he knew it wasn't Tifa's fault, it didn't lessen the pain of being around her. Every time those crimson eyes met his, his heart would hammer painfully in his chest.

"Papa?" the girl asked softly. "Do you think we could play a game together?"

Brian sighed inwardly. Last year, his small family spent the entire evening playing games and eating treats. But after all that had happened, how was he supposed to feign such lightheartedness? Was Tifa really that indifferent to her mother's death that she felt free to be frivolous and silly? The thought of doing anything joyful with the girl made him feel sick to his stomach. Surely, she had only asked him out of formality. The fact that she didn't want him around had been evident for a long time. The girl frequently made herself scarce when he was around, choosing to remain quiet and withdrawn for the most part. He didn't need her, either.

"Why don't you go find those unruly friends of yours? I'm sure they want to play childish games with you much more than I do," he replied in a tone that was more annoyed than he meant it to sound.

Tifa's eyes turned downward and she nodded obediently, hurrying away through the crowd. Brian watched her go before turning and heading towards the vendors' booths.

… … …

Weaving through the mass of people, Tifa took in the sights of all the visitors. Once in a while, a familiar face would appear, but most of the people were strangers. The population of Nibelheim was so small that she could probably name everyone if she sat down and really tried. On the side of the busy street was a familiar little cart. Ms. Strife had set up shop there, looking busy and cheerful. The woman waved at Tifa when she spotted her on the edge of the crowd. Tifa smiled and immediately jogged over.

"Good evening, Tifa! Oh, don't you look beautiful!" Claudia gushed.

Tifa blushed at the praise. "Thank you, ma'am."

She had worn the same dress to the festival as she did last year and had done a bit of growing since then. The hem of the dress's blue skirt used to brush at her heels—now it fell to her mid calf.

Tifa approached Claudia's cart and ran her hand over the fabric of the pretty skirts, slips and dresses. While her blue dress was nice, it was plain and palled in comparison to any of Ms. Strife's intricate garments. Mama had never known how to make clothes. Whenever something needed mending or hemming her mother would do her best, resulting in haphazard stitches and uneven hem lines. Claudia's stitch work was perfect and straight, delicate lace lining pretty petticoats and handsome men's shirts with neat collars and shiny buttons.

"Ms. Strife, you make such beautiful clothes," the girl said, her gaze lingering on the cart. "My fighting clothes are my favorite things to wear. Thank you."

"You're very welcome, little one. Come right on over if they ever need repair, alright?"

"I will. Say…I was hoping to find Cloud. Do you know where he might be?"

As if on cue, Cloud appeared, carrying a large wicker basket with a cloth on top. When he caught sight of Tifa, he smiled and greeted her. Claudia thanked Cloud and took the basket from him, pulling back the cloth to reveal several dozen apple strudels. She handed one to each of them, before digging in her coin purse and handing Cloud some gil.

"Here's ten gil. I know it's not much, but use it to go play some games or get something to eat, ok?" she said as she ruffled her son's hair.

Cloud let out an embarrassed groan before muttering his thanks. Tifa couldn't contain her excitement and stepped forward to give the woman a hug, exclaiming her gratitude. The older woman squeezed her back with a hearty giggle. It felt so good to feel Claudia hold her head to her chest. For a moment, Tifa couldn't help but close her eyes and take in the small act of affection. The woman smoothed Tifa's hair before sending her off with Cloud, smiling fondly as she watched the children disappear into the crowd.

… … …

It was such a magical night, with pretty lanterns hung all around, music dancing in the air and merriment everywhere she looked. Tifa and Cloud watched kids and adults play games, tasted some delicious food and looked at all the nice things for sale. They stopped to buy a snack after exploring most of what the festival had to offer.

"Where's your Papa? Why isn't he with you?" Cloud asked as he polished off his paper bag full of popped corn.

Tifa shrugged and pretended that it didn't hurt that her father sent her off instead of choosing to spend the enjoying the night with her. She clutched her own paper bad and looked up towards the orange paper lanterns hanging above the vendor's booths, thinking of what to say.

"He thought I'd have more fun with friends. Besides, if he made me stay with him the whole time I wouldn't be able to spend the festival with you."

"You're right," Cloud said as he looked away, suddenly bashful.

She quickly changed the subject, "This popped corn is making me thirsty! Want to go get something to drink?"

The pair walked side by side until Tifa pointed out a sign above a booth saying 'Ale and Drink'. She asked Cloud what 'ale' was, and he could only shrug. A large man stood behind the booth and smiled at the children when they came near.

"Hello there," Tifa said with her brightest smile. "One ale please!"

The man burst into laughter and Tifa's polite smile faltered.

"M'sorry, little lady. If I gave you some ale, you'd be swayin' around and actin' like a fool! I can't serve you alcohol if you aren't an adult."

Gears were turning in Tifa's head. "You mean I'd act strangely? Sir, do they serve ale in the tavern?"

"You bet they do," the vendor answered. Tifa's lips pressed into a tight line.

"How about some juice instead?"

… … …

It was getting late. After trying for a while to find Mr. Lockhart, Cloud decided to walk Tifa home. He was angry that the man would just ignore his only daughter for the entire night, but at the same time he was happy that he got to have so much fun with his best friend. He was sure that if her father caught him walking beside her, he'd be in big trouble. But it would be worth it; she meant the world to him. Courage mounting, he looked at Tifa out of the corner of his eye and slowly slipped his hand into hers as they walked away from the noise of the festivities. Tifa flashed him a radiant smile that made his heart jump in his chest.

"Thank you for walking me home," Tifa said, suddenly unable to look him in the face.

She held onto his fingers and ran her thumb over his knuckle. A blush dusted his cheeks immediately and he swallowed thickly.

"Oh, you know…it's no big deal. I wanted to. You're right next door, after all," Cloud stuttered.

"Good night," Tifa said, gently dropping his hands. "See you tomorrow?"

He nodded in response, "Yeah, tomorrow."

She quietly disappeared into her house and Cloud was frozen where he stood. Sometimes it didn't matter that he was an outcast in the village, that he had no father or that he only had one friend. Because in these moments of clarity, she was the only one that he needed. Feeling grateful and still a bit embarrassed, Cloud turned to walk away, ears pink from the rush of feeling her fingers clasped against his.