Brian Eno - Julie With...
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— …Heather!? – Sir Fratley woke up out of his bed with a heart beating rapidly. In a rush, he finds himself in Heather's bedroom.
— Hi, dad. – Heather moaned and opened her eyes slowly. Her looks are not very receptive.
— Hi, yourself. – Fratley stood calm, pretending to not be contorted in fear. – How are you? Is everything alright? – He said, looking around to find if there was something out of place in her bedroom. Heather looked at him for a second or two, then she nodded and whispered.
— (Yeah. Like hell I am right… ) I am doing fine. Why are you awake this late, making all this noise?
— I heard a scream.
— A scream?
— Yes, a scream. – Fratley paused and then continued. – I heard it from my room. I wonder if it was you.
Heather didn't say anything. She was just looking at her father with barely open eyes. Tears were streaming down her cheeks after a huge yawn. The girl shook her head and mumbled something incomprehensible.
— …No. I heard no scream.
— You didn't hear anything?
— Nuh uh. Not at all. – Heather replied. – It was not me.
— But I swear I heard someone screaming… – Fratley said, as he looked away and sighed in frustration. He took a deep breath and tried to figure out what to do. – I'll ask again, was it you, Heather?
— No. I said I heard no scream.
— You sure?
— Yeah, I'm sure. Now why don't you leave me alone? – Said Heather, crossing her arms with an angry look at face. – I want to sleep. I am in the growing phase, remember?
— Yes. That's right. – Fratley nodded. – Rest, my dear. Try to get some more sleep.
— I will. Now leave. – Heather said curtly, without raising her head. Before walking out, Fratley turned and glanced back towards her. He noticed Heather was clearly distracted by something, though he couldn't tell exactly what it was. Until… – What's up?
— Something smells. – A mild smell of urine could be felt in the room. It came from where Heather was sitting. – Heather, did you?...
Heather remained quiet for a moment. She didn't respond to Fratley's question.
— Look at me.
— (This is so humiliating…) – Reluctantly, Heather obeyed. – Okay. I had a nightmare. I wet my bed, how's that?
— Was it a scary nightmare? – Asked Fratley hesitantly.
— Hnng. – Heather let out a loud grunt followed by a quiet sob. As if there was such a thing as a pleasant view of hell… She clutched the blanket tighter, burying her head into it, hoping to hide herself away completely from everyone, even though she knew it wouldn't work.
— Heather, I'm serious. – Said Fratley. – I've had plenty of nightmares too. I know how horrible they can be. And it happens to everyone.
Heather still hadn't responded. She hated being pitied. It made her feel weak.
— I am okay. – She said. – I'll go change my clothes and why don't you go to sleep? You have important things to do tomorrow.
— No. – Said Fratley firmly. – Listen, Heather. Whatever's happening, we're going to sort it out. We're going to take care of it. Together.
— No need to, dad. – Heather said, jumping out of bed and BUMP! It was like a mini earthquake happened everytime she did it. She went to her wardrobe. – I need privacy. Get out.
— It is not usual for you to act this foolish, young miss. – Said Fratley, looking at the ceiling. He refused to go anywhere else until the issue was solved. – Heather… I'm not saying that you have to tell me everything. But we will sort it out, okay?
After a pause, Heather nodded slowly as she changed her pajamas.
— Okay. – She said, blinking and rubbing her eyes roughly. It felt odd for a child to wear orthopedic underwear. It felt odd for such a child to have her feet dragged like a dead weight at times. – Do nightmares really have any meaning, or are they just here to be unpleasant?
— The nightmares? – Asked Fratley, puzzled. – In my case, they have to do with unresolved stuff, but most of the time they don't make any sense at all. Well… Once I had a nightmare about people I used to know, they just vanished in front of me…
— People like me? – Asked Heather, confused.
— Not you, my dear.
— Mom? – Heather guessed.
— Maybe. Maybe not, actually. I can't remember much of what I dream.
Heather stood quiet. She couldn't believe her ears. Fratley didn't seem sad or guilty. He seemed... Calm. At ease. Like it was not a big deal to wake up at night after having a horrifying nightmare. He's pretty much grown up enough to bear nightmares at night. Heck, he's Sir Fratley, the guy who said 'Let fear propel you forward' and 'The road remains wide open while your dreams are alive. Do not let fear block the way'. Adults work in very interesting ways, they have back pains yet they have to work by tomorrow each day. Crazy.
— …I dreamt about Freya. Mom. – Heather confessed. Lots of thoughts went in her mind at once, but one that bothered her out of many was in regards to her mother. – Is... is she dead?
— No. – Fratley replied. – Freya is alive. She hasn't been forgotten... She just doesn't exist. I'm not sure I could ever forget her…
Heather was silent for a few seconds.
— (I'm a terrible person, ain't I?) – Asked Heather in a soothing whisper.
— What do you mean?
— People think I am responsible for mom's death. – Heather said in a low voice as tears formed in his eyes again, and she wiped away his tears with the heel of his hands. She was not sad, but rather tired. – If I hadn't been born, none of this would have happened... Mom would still be alive today.
— Don't say those kinds of things!
— I am the reason... I'm the reason she is dead…
— You are not responsible! – Fratley scowled. – Forget what others say and stop blaming yourself! No one could be blamed for what happened.
— But... but... – Heather started sobbing again. – ...I killed her…
— That's not true. – Fratley interrupted her sternly. – I'm telling you that she loved you very much. She told me so herself. And she always wanted you here, wherever we were. – He continued after a short while of silence.
— We never got to say goodbye to each other. – Heather trailed off. She sat on the bed and sniffed. – Or even talk to each other. In my dream… Nightmare, I saw mom and she didn't speak to me. I never heard her voice. I wish I knew... I honestly wish I did…
— …Oh, I know what will make you feel a lot better. – Fratley said, with eyes locked on his daughter.
— Leave me alone. – Heather shook her head. – That will make me feel a whole lot better.
— But you see…
— I'm okay.
— You're okay, you say. – Fratley chuckled quietly. – No, seriously. Are you okay? Do you want something? A glass of milk, a cup of water, anything?
— A cup of water. Really. – Heather muttered sullenly. She wanted to be on her own, but her father, despite being caring, was a nuisance at times. Another dead weight to carry around. – I just peed on the bed. I am lucky one side is still clean.
— If you say so.
— Dad, I'm okay. No need to worry about me. – Given how Fratley looks unduly worried, it feels like he heard a blood-curdling scream of agony coming out of me, thought Heather. – My bed is wet.
— You don't need to feel sorry. It's alright. You'll learn to control it as you grow up.
— Eight years. I am eight years old. I should have learned by now.
— (Here's a secret, but don't tell anyone else, sweetie!) – Fratley whispered to his daughter's ear. – (I'll confess… I peed in bed until I was fifteen.)
— …You're lying. – Heather almost burst into goofy laughter, but she kept the seriousness.
— I'm not.
— You're lying so I don't feel sad.
— Who said I was lying? True, off my chest, honesty! I'm not kidding, it's a trauma I had to deal with.
— I know you're lying. – Heather said, still trying to act tough. – It's one of those things adults say to their children so they don't feel sad. I saw this pattern over the years, I am not dumb.
— Huh. – Fratley furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. He sat back by Heather's bedside. – I remember when you were three and you also made this face when your tummy hurt back then and…
— Tummy, really?
— And you know what I did?
— I know. You gave me medicine. You cast Esuna. You-
— I sang you a song.
— A song? Oh no, you're going to do that, aren't you…
— I will sing you a lullaby! – Fratley said. Heather was not impressed at all, she tried to look but could not avoid that dork expression in her father's face.
— Just wish me a good night of sleep. Look, I really appreciate your help, dad, but–
— Come on, let's sing! It's about time…
— To sleep. – Heather took a heavy sigh, giving in. – (When did singing ever solved any problems?)
— You asked me every night if I could sing you a lullaby, and so I did. – Fratley grabbed her hands and started singing softly. Well, screechy is a better word, but he tried to sound soft at least. – Little Heather, little Heather…
— Fratley…
— Sing for the day… Sing for the moment… Sing for the time in your life!...
— Fratley.
— …Come for an hour!… Stay for the moment!…
— Fratley, please. Please, stop. – Heather pleaded desperately.
— …Stay for the rest of your life!...
— I think I'll have more nightmares. – She also left a snarky comment. Fratley didn't care at all. He kissed his daughter's forehead and stood by the bedroom's door.
— Goodnight. And don't let the Oglops bite…
— Fratley! – Heather yelled, blushing slightly.
— Go to bed, you sleepy head! – He said playfully before leaving.
…
I had nightmares when I was little. A long time ago, but they stopped bothering me after I grew older. That doesn't make them easier to deal with, though. I don't think Heather should worry anymore. Like she said, it's fine. Just a nightmare. Imagine, the worst could have happened.
It's raining outside, like usual. It never ceases to rain at Burmecia. Every once in a while, I see lightning flash by the window. Reminds me of the times when my mother and I used to sit on the balcony of his room when she taught me how to read. Or when she read to me and my brothers when we woke up from bad dreams and we were all scared. Those memories were painful, but heartwarming as well.
It was just an ordinary day. A day like most other days. Now, it's just a memory. There was something different about this day, though… Now that my little darling talked about Freya, I remember how we used to go for a walk together, which was always nice because we usually would spend hours walking around town.
Freya was very interested in the different things people in town could do or buy... It really excited her. One day she was looking for souvenirs to take home. There was a souvenir shop, near where we lived. Freya had a thing for souvenirs. She bought everything we could find: china tea sets, paintings, books, trinkets. All of that stuff was expensive. I always wanted to ask why she loved it so much, but she always kept her reasons close to her chest.
She didn't want to explain anything. It was always like a secret between us. Anyway, I asked her why she bought all that stuff, and she said: "So I can take some home." That's it. Nothing else. We had lunch at a restaurant in the town, where we talked about nothing but ourselves. I think that's probably one of the happiest moments I've had with Freya, when she was not broody and fearsome.
And then Freya suggested that instead of going back home we should visit one of the local churches. She dragged me there like a little kid. I can still remember it clearly. Burmecia was being rebuilt, people had high hopes, and Freya... She was so happy. It felt like her whole world had come crumbling down and all she wanted was to fix what she broke and make everything right again. And to be honest... That's exactly what I wished too. That our lives were brought back to stability, we could look at each other without feeling distrust, hatred, and jealousy. We were finally able to share that happiness together.
I have to work by tomorrow. Lots of stuff to do, so I better get to sleep. Eight years… It feels like yesterday when Heather was crawling around.
…
— To see a maiden wearing her dress before the ceremony gives bad luck, so you know.
Freya… She looked beautiful back then. On that white dove dress.
— I know, but I don't believe in it. Luck doesn't mean nothing to me. Besides, I'm not the one lamb about to be sent to the slaughter.
— Someday you'll be. And will feel the same I do.
Of course I didn't say anything about it. I had nothing to say. Not because I was disappointed or pissed about the marriage. The Flaming Amarant would not let a dear friend's marriage bother him at all.
— I don't feel, and I never will. Look at Fratley there. He seems so goofy wearing those clothes... more so when he wears nothing at all.
— Who are you to know?
And who was Sir Fratley to know what he was doing? He looked pathetic, if not tad confused. Like a dehydrated toad in need of water.
— Not you. Well, I'm just saying that he doesn't look natural...
— So do you, Amarant. I see that you haven't brought your claw.
— Said someone who was born with them. And I'm not here for a fight, not with fists.
Me and my big mouth alone can do enough harm. But that does not mean I'm evil or anything, I can also be nice. To certain people, and dear Lady Crescent was one of them…
— Then why are you here? To spy on me?
— Had I been, I would be in the distance, not close to the fire. Nice dress, by the way.
— Thanks. Mother wore it once.
— I heard your people only marry once.
— It's part of the Burmecian tradition to choose an only partner in life, like birds do.
— No wonder why they call pigeons ''flying rats''...
— Don't make fun of our traditions, Mr. Amarant.
Whenever Freya got angry at someone, I swear, her fur puffed out. It was fun, until she threatened to kick your butt.
— I'm not the only one.
— Geez... Sometimes, you are cold-blooded like a reptile.
— Didn't notice. This grotto is already cold, or is it only your legs who are shaking, Crescent?
— Oh, come on. These are marriage jitters. Every bride feels them.
— Are they a common excuse?
— What do you mean?
Perhaps those were just 'marriage jitters', like she said. But I knew something was wrong with Freya. She didn't really want to do it, did she? Well, I tried to convince her to think better about it…
— Look, The door is open, and there are only a few invited. Gizamaluke is dead, you killed him after all... I'm not an expert, nor do I believe in it that much, but can't you say these are signs, Crescent? And when you get older, you may ask for yourself how I wish I could go back in time.
— I wished that I could do many things. Had I been at Burmecia during the invasion, we wouldn't have suffered a great loss. So many died, isn't that enough? Only once I want to be happy, with someone I know it can make me better.
— Does Sir Fratley think the same?
— He is earning back past moments each day.
— And I thought the amnesia was a lame excuse
— I know. Fratley was always a kidder. The memory loss was painful to deal with, but it ended up just as a setback. Nothing that prevented me from caring for him.
— As much as a wood door cares to be opened by a hand...
— What are you saying?
— You are that near a prize, and you do not want it all. That's how you feel, right?
I could really have just said 'I love you, Freya' while kneeling before her, but knowing Freya, she would burst into laughter and say 'yeah, right' while patting my head like a dog.
— It's not that, Amarant. I want Fratley in my life… Really.
— Had not you already earned him? Why marry him? You know, I hate marriages… You turn two people who love each other into husband and wife. Is there something worse than that?
— You do not understand how it is to care for someone other than yours.
— I understand. Very well. Is it a mirror I am looking at?
— Perhaps. You can say anything you want, and I grant you the right to say it so, no matter if I agree or not.
How I hated when she began to talk politely like an old grandma, but to be fair, that's one thing I liked about her too. Only Freya managed to look serious and goofy as hell.
— You are talking like a Dragoon Knight. I thought you would be marrying a man instead, Crescent.
— I'll be together with both.
— You do not want to die alone, do you?
— Nobody wants to. That's why you became a bounty hunter. Not because of money, but to be recognized, somehow.
Yeah, to be recognized by murder. But I have my principles, as hard as it may be. I never hurted any children or those defenseless enough to fight against me. Perhaps that's what Freya saw in me that got her interested in my person, because otherwise, I am hard to understand. An asshole, if you may prefer.
— Do your people marry in this place, or is it only a few who think this place is beautiful?
— I love Gizamaluke's Grotto. It's a very relaxing place for meditation. The architecture is also gorgeous.
— I can't disagree with you, Crescent. My hat is off to your people for making a beautiful aesthetic that stays to this day.
— Mother traveled lengths only to marry my father. He was a Dragoon Knight, a dedicated one, not so strong without the armor, but mother made him strong. People like her, and he only fell in love for one. Father said that he would buy her a ticket to the world, but in fact they never got out of Burmecia, or from each other. Only death to do them part, and their care to raise a world for me and my later siblings to live with.
And then Freya began to talk about her dead parents. Nobody I know seems to bring up that she is an orphan who did most stuff by herself in order to become someone in life. And that's very admirable, I must say. I should have said something about it, but I didn't care much.
— So, have you been with your mother at that time?
— No, I wasn't even born when she married, to begin with.
— Like your child there…
I was joking. Of course I was joking. Freya and I only stood together one night. Yeah… two, three, seven, eight… We were so close to each other. Walking around the park, attending boring reunions, talking about politics and stuff I completely ignored, but since it was Freya, I gave a damn to what she said.
I don't know. With my bare hands, I can punch through walls, knock out a few enemies, throw out coins and knives with such speed and accuracy that anything I holded in hands became a mortal weapon. That's how I got into the mercenary, and later the bounty hunter stuff. But something in Freya, something in her makes me gentle. It makes me shy. makes me soft. Makes me stronger, and happy to be alive.
And maybe that's what it comes down to. She makes me whole, she makes me complete. I felt fine with all the punchdrunk lovesick talk just because Freya and I were together, she would either say it was a crap talk to the point of humiliation to which she would embrace it right away.
— Oh, so you've 'noticed', huh?
— Brahne wore large clothes to disguise her fat. But speaking about you, Crescent... I have to say… Congratulations. And what a way to follow traditions.
— Shut up, Amarant.
I chuckled. Of course I was joking. Yes, Freya and I… We were close to each other. That much. Our relationship had its ups and downs, and we became from silly enemies to average partners and then best buddies and, you know, sex partners. There is a better word for that, but I don't borrow a dictionary. Well, we were very intimate, she told me stuff that nobody ever heard and to this day I haven't told her confessions to anyone else.
It was inevitable. I know I complain a lot and me and God have issues with all sorts of things that happen in life, but right now, whenever I have the chance to talk with Freya, I thank you. Thank you for her.
— Oh, you don't want anyone else to hear. Right... Don't worry. My mouth is a grave.
— Didn't take that much to notice it.
— Hey! Forget it...
I can't sleep. No wonder why I can't shut my eyes tonight.
Usually, when I'm drunk, I just fall somewhere and wake up with the taste of a dog's tongue in my mouth. But yeah, I can't sleep right now. Not when I'm thinking about…
Slow steps reverberating through the blue walls of the grotto, stalactites and stalagmites made of water drops of centuries of age… The sound of bells, from the entrance to the exit, and both their faces becoming one. The rest of the ceremony, I stood quiet, in utter silence. The way Fratley kissed her was awkward, like a baby chewing a meat without teeth in its mouth, but it was okay. The two lovebirds looked happy, they deserved each other more than anything else. Both have suffered a lot to get together. It was a brand new day for Burmecia and its people, a chance for hope to fill their pitiful lives.
But then… Freya began to feel sick. Nothing serious. No need to worry about it, the Queen of Alexandria said. Good news, she is pregnant! And everyone was happy, of course. They gave Freya all sorts of gifts and clothing that would get useless after three months, it was really nice of them. Quina and Eiko prepared a frog soup, Zidane and Steiner came up with all sorts of ridiculous names, and I joked yet again that the baby was someone else's but Fratley…
I should have stopped joking. One day, the Queen receives a letter that leaves her terrified. It was from Burmecia. Freya is dead. Who killed her!? I immediately asked. For Garnet, it was the most unbearably painful thing to be said. One of her best friends has just passed, and in a horrific way, as I found it when I visited Burmecia's graveyard…
Childbirth. She bled to death. That's how they said. Just like that. Oh, hey, Freya is dead. Dead. Dead, and that's all. Freya's dead. She suffered, you know. Agonized for hours, really sad. But the baby is fine, uh huh. It's a girl. Heather. At first we thought it was a tumor, a damaged organ, one rotten entrail, a piece of flesh screaming in pain, but she's alright. The child lives, the mother dies.
Freya… She died on the bed and I could not do anything. Not a damn thing. I attended the funeral days later, and Fratley was there, holding a newborn. Hard to tell it was a newborn by all the wraps it has covered in, as if Fratley did it so on purpose, refusing to see that child's face. Yet, when it came to people who blamed the kid for the death, Fratley was the first to call them monsters for ever saying such things. He was right, it was not the infant's fault, she was just born, she didn't even ask to be born.
The rest of the day was shity. I followed Fratley home and he began to talk about how 'his' daughter's legs were stiff but not sore, hard like a chicken's legs. Everyone in the Dragoon force gave him condolences for what happened. I briefly commented, saying it was an awful and very unfortunate event, that Freya was one of my dearest friends and that I really enjoyed her company and that I would miss her very much. With that said, I grunted every time the topic was brought up again.
My daughter is a hybrid, Fratley said, looking straight at me. He talked about hybrids between humans and Burmecians showing up around the kingdom and how most of them looked fine but also many suffered from healthy issues. Some of them were born with no tails, no claws, some of them had no fur at all or barely any fur, and they had difficulty breathing, walking, thinking and learning. One boy was born with no ears at all, he just had a pair of holes, he said.
You're saying I am her father, right? I too could to the 'look straight to show anger' game as well, to which Fratley promptly nodded. He knew Freya and I had an affair before both of them came up with the marriage stuff. Besides, he denied with all his strength and Burmecian heritage that he gave birth to that monstrosity, so it had to be me, right? I was responsible for bringing the behemoth to life in his vision.
Still, Fratley showed cared for that little creature he had in arms. I felt disgusted just by staring at it, because all I could think about… Take care of the child, I said. Heather, what a cute name, and then I left. What I hated the most was not even the child, but the talk of town in regards to her mother. Freya was no saint, she was quite a bitch at times but also very funny, either she laughed at you, or laughed together with you, or laughed while crying inside.
I know she would hate to be shut inside of a box and buried within the earth under an endless falling rain.