“Lady”

by Kat Dickerson

Characters owned by Sunrise. Story owned by me.

I want to go home.

Not to my old home, in the colony, but to my new home. With the Lady.

I don’t like this academy, with its staring and nosy students, its high-bricked walls and generic landscaping. They all stare and whisper when I walk down the hall. They know me. They know who my father was. They know about me even before I know about them.

It’s been five months since I started attending this academy. I know I should be listening to the teacher’s lesson on the A.D. French Revolution, but I keep thinking about my first day here…

I hear the sounds of my oxfords tapping against the cold and dull gray floor as I follow the headmistress to my classroom. She walks with a hurried stride. I almost detect a hint of annoyance in her actions as she turns the corners, weaving down the hall, every now and then checking to see if I’m still behind her. She stinks; reeking of cigarette smoke and rotten orange peels. The Lady always smells of rose petals or lilies.

Her green suit crinkles and I can hear her pantyhose brush together as she walks. I can’t put my finger exactly on what the sound reminds me of. It’ll probably come to me later…

The headmistress was probably angry because of the Lady. In my old academy, they gave me a test that said I should be in the 8th grade, even though I’m only 10. I asked the Lady if I could skip to the 8th grade. She didn’t want me to, but she finally agreed.

When we’d arrived at the academy that morning, the Lady had walked me in and asked to speak to the Headmistress. They told the Lady she’d be out in a minute. I sat down in a cold leather maroon chair and the Lady sat down beside me. I watched her out of the corner of my eye as she rubbed her hands together nervously. I knew she was probably praying or trying to keep herself from losing her temper.

The school had told the Lady they didn’t want me. It was because of what I’d done four years ago. When I’d let my grandfather, Dekim, lie to me and lead me down a bad path. The Lady told me to forget it; to make a new start but I still remember it sometimes.

I remember the look on the Headmistress’s face when she came from her office to see us sitting there. She was a short and stocky woman with cheaply dyed blonde hair and too much eye makeup. She had crows’ feet and her lips seemed to be glued into a permanent frown. The Lady stood up and extended her hand.

They looked like night and day as compared to each other. The Lady was tall and beautiful; with silky brown hair and a pair of brown cocoa eyes. She forced a fake smile. I knew it was fake because I’d seen her REAL smile before. Her real smile was warm and gentle.

The Headmistress frowned. She didn’t shake the Lady’s hand. “I thought I told you we cannot accept this child,” she said. Her voice was high and nasally. It reminded me of dissonance on the piano.

“Yes, you did. But I refuse to accept your decision. My child is as capable as any of these others. Just because she’s younger does not mean-“ The Lady had retorted.

Her child? I’d never heard her say that before. At least not while I was around. She always introduced me as “MarieMaia, Treize’s child,” or “the daughter of Treize Khushrenada.” She’d never actually called me HER child.

“Colonel Une, I don’t believe you understood me correctly,” the Headmistress hissed in that terribly dissonant voice of hers, “we CANNOT accept the child.”

“I am no longer a Colonel,” The Lady said. I could see that she was starting to get irritated. “Please call me Lady Une.”

The Headmistress scoffed and glared, her cold green eyes fixated upon the Lady. She stepped a little closer, as if she were ready to pounce on the Lady at any time.

“You,” she said, “Are NOT and NEVER WILL be a LADY! You should be locked up in some jail rotting away after all that you did!” She put her hands on her hip. I narrowed my eyes and looked at the Lady. She looked genuinely hurt, as if she were about to cry. I wanted to hit the Headmistress… or even savagely bite her arm until she bled, but I kept silent and stayed in my seat.

The Lady also stayed silent as the Headmistress continued to slice into her. “I don’t know who you think you are, prancing in here with your expensive suits and your ridiculous airs, expecting us to take this child…. this…this…FREAK!”

I flinched. It wasn’t a new term to me, but it still hurt every time someone called me that. I fought to hold the tears back. The Lady turned to look at me quickly, giving me an empathetic look as if to say, “I’m sorry…”

She turned back to stare at the Headmistress. She gave her a menacing glare. I thought she almost looked like a tigress.

“ I accept the unkind things you’ve said to me. I take the blame for what I did while I was a soldier for OZ. But, I cannot allow you to punish MarieMaia for that. My child is NOT a freak!” she said in a cold tone.

There it was again…. “My child.” She’d said it twice already.

“Listen, I told you, we-“ the headmistress started to say when her secretary interrupted her.

“Headmistress,” the redheaded secretary said as if she’d been highly inconvenienced. She had frizzy hair and looked like she’d stuck her finger in a power socket. She continued before the headmistress had time to answer. “Dorothy Catalonia-O’Kelly is on the communicator for you.”

The Lady smiled at the Headmistress. I knew this look. It was the look of triumph. I knew who Dorothy was. She was my father’s niece and the Lady said she had ties with this school and could get me in.

“Headmistress,” Dorothy purred over the communicator, “I’ve learned that you are not allowing my uncle’s child to attend your academy. Please…. could you inform me as to why?” Her light blue eyes, which were the same color as MarieMaia’s, narrowed.

“Mrs. O’Kelly!” The Headmistress had exclaimed. I saw sweat beads begin to form on her forehead and I smiled a tiny smug smile myself. “Well, er…we just thought-“

“Headmistress,” Dorothy continued in a firm tone, “If you refuse to accept MarieMaia, I will personally see to it that all funding to your academy is cut off and you will never work as an educator again. Is that clear?”

“Yes ma’am,” the Headmistress grumbled as she looked down to the floor.

“Good. I’m glad we understand each other,” Dorothy said as the communication screen went blank.

I liked Dorothy. She and her husband, Brian, were always nice to me. She would take me for walks in the Lady’s rose garden and tell me about my father…how handsome he was…how he was a hero…and how he loved the Lady.

“Well?” the Headmistress boomed. I broke from my daydream and looked up. She was standing in front of me, glaring down at me. I gulped. “What are you sitting there for? Let’s go,” she growled.

“I’ll be here to pick you up when classes are over,” the Lady called as I hurriedly scrambled after the Headmistress. She smiled at me and I winked back.

Clomp. Clomp. Clomp. I wasn’t sure if I was hearing my footsteps or the Headmistresses’ in front of me. Finally, after what seemed to be the longest walk of my entire life, she stopped in front of a door and swung it open, pushing me inside a classroom with about 30 boys and girls. The teacher stopped what she was doing and walked over to me.

“That woman seems to have won. Here. Figure out something to do with this,” the Headmistress spat as she twirled on her heel and left the room, slamming the door behind her.

With “THIS.” This? Was I an object now? Did I not count as a human being just because I was different? I looked nervously around the room to see their eyes staring at me. Some were laughing. Others just turned their noses up. The teacher frowned and directed me to a table in the back of the room.

“Sit back there,” she said, not even asking my name. She treated me as if I were a disease; a plague that she was afraid of catching.

I timidly walked down the row to the table, past the staring and giggling students. I looked down and tried my best not to look at them as I pulled the brown wooden chair out and sat in it, placing my satchel on top of the chalky green colored table, which had grooves all over it where people had carved their initials or other things.

I sat there miserable through the whole class. If I raised my hand, the teacher ignored me and the other students snickered. Finally, I sat and drew pictures. First, I drew my father in his OZ uniform. Then I drew the Lady. I decided to draw her as a mermaid. She would make a good mermaid. Or an angel.

I didn’t understand why or how people hated the Lady. She was always so kind and loving. I also didn’t understand why they hated me either.

My reminiscing came to an end as I sat down under a tree in the courtyard for lunch. I pulled an apple out of the paper bag the Lady had given me before she brought me to school. A large boy and his friend came up to me. I shuddered, knowing that more teasing and cajoling was in store for me.

“Hey Red,” he said, “What are we having for lunch?”

“An apple,” I said. The rest of my lunch was in the satchel in the classroom. I wasn’t a stranger to having my lunches stolen.

“Aw, how sweet,” he said, “Did your mommy give you that?” he asked as he snatched the apple from my hand. I’d only taken one bite of it.

“My mother is dead,” I said coldly and calmly.

“Oh yeah, that’s right…you live with the crazy lady,” he guffawed. His friend laughed and elbowed him.

“She is NOT!” I said defiantly.

“Yes she is,” the boy retorted, “My dad said when she was an OZ soldier she killed so many people that she got a split personality and had a nervous breakdown and went crazy.”

“THAT’S A LIE!” I yelled, jumping up from where I stood. He and his friend just laughed at me. Before I knew it, I had pushed him so hard that he fell down. He reared back and punched me in the face. It hurt. He was so much bigger than I was. I lunged for him, kicking, biting and clawing.

I don’t know who broke us up. I just remember looking up from the chair in the Headmistresses’ office to see the Lady come barging in. She had on her green army uniform and her hair was braided and pulled up. She wore her wire-rimmed glasses. She rushed to where I was sitting and examined my eye, gently touching my bruised face, then examining my body for other wounds.

“What happened?” She asked me softly. I thought I saw a tear in her eye. I just shook my head and looked at the floor. I felt ashamed for pushing the boy. The Lady had already scolding me for fighting. I was afraid she would be angry again.

“That brat attacked one of my pupils,” The Headmistress boomed.

The Lady jerked my hand and pulled me toward the large desk where the Headmistress was sitting.. I thought she was going to explode.

“Look at her face!” The Lady screamed as she jerked my chin up to reveal my blackened eye. “I don’t care what she did! These children are four times her size! Where in the hell were YOU when they were beating up my child?”

There it was again. She called me “her child.” She’d been saying it more and more lately, and even though I had grown used to hearing it, it still caught me off guard. My own mother had never even referred to me as “her child.” She was always busy, leaving me with my grandfather most of the time.

“My job isn’t to baby-sit delinquents,” the Headmistress said as she eyed me hatefully.

“Well, what is it then?” the Lady shot back. “To demonstrate your obvious stupidity and incompetence?”

I was afraid the Lady and the Headmistress were going to get into a fight again. They stood there for a moment, locked in a death glare. Finally, the Lady broke the silence when she reached into the front pocket of her military uniform and pulled out her small communicator.

“Here,” she said as she handed the communicator to me. “Call your Aunt Dorothy.”

I thought of protesting for a moment, but the Lady’s face had that stern “do it or else” look so I quietly punched the keys, entering in the number I’d memorized.

“What are you doing?” The Headmistress screeched.

“Be silent!” the Lady bellowed. For once, the Headmistress obeyed her.

I waited for a minute as Dorothy’s face appeared on the communicator.

“Oh! MarieMaia!” She said happily, then her face turned serious. “What happened to your face? You look as if someone hit you with a brick!” she said as she put her hand to her mouth and gasped.

The Lady suddenly grabbed the communicator from my hands before I could answer.

“She got into a fight today, apparently with a fourteen year old boy,” she paused to glare at the Headmistress, “ A very LARGE fourteen year old boy at that. I’m standing here in the Headmistress’s office and when I asked why she did not prevent my child being torn from limb to limb, she informed me that her job was not to “ baby-sit delinquents.” I was calling to see if maybe you could help her figure out what her job actually was…seeing as she hasn’t a clue herself.”

“I see,” I heard Dorothy say, “Thank you for informing me. Please put the Headmistress on.”

I looked down and smiled a smug grin, hoping no one could see. I looked at the Lady out of the corner of my eye. She was standing straight and tall; her right hand firmly planted on her hip. She kept her gaze on the Headmistress, who by now was stammering and bumbling to Dorothy, who was less than pleased with the nature of the call.

“Mrs. O’Kelly…please….let me explain…” the Headmistress said. I could see her trembling and she nervously tapped her fingers on the desktop as she stared at the communicator explain.

“I believe your actions have said enough,” I head Dorothy hiss, “I am going to make a call immediately and see to it that you are no longer Headmistress of this institution. This kind of behavior is completely unacceptable. I cannot sit by blindly while someone like you, who claims to be an educator, looks the other way while a ten year old girl is torn to pieces by larger children simply because she’s different. It seems, madam, that you have a lot of lessons to learn as far as dealing with human life is concerned and I refuse to allow you to endanger the lives of any more children. Good day.”

The Headmistress sat in shock for a moment, then looked up to the Lady, who only moved to reclaim her communicator and put it back in her uniform pocket. She looked so regal…and elegant at the same time. She was so strong. I wanted to be strong like her one day.

“Lady Une…surely there’s something we can do to work this out….” The Headmistress said frantically. I could see that she was obviously petrified of the Lady now.

“You should have been more willing to cooperate in the beginning,” The Lady said, “Before you allowed my child to be mauled. I have nothing more to say to you.” She tilted her head downward and glared at the Headmistress who had sunk down back into her chair. I would have been terrified of the Lady at that moment.

She turned and offered her hand to me. “Come, MarieMaia,” she whispered. Her tone was soft and warm again. “We are going home now.”

I took her hand and allowed her to lead me through the door, taking one more look back at the Headmistress, who had her head buried in her hands on her desk. I think she was crying. Even though she’d been mean to me, I felt sorry for her.

I followed the Lady out to the car and hopped in. She didn’t speak as she started the ignition and pulled her little black car out of the parking lot. We’d gone a little ways when she pulled out the communicator and dialed.

“Sally here.” I looked to see Sally Po’s face on the communicator. The Lady and Sally worked together. I liked Sally. She was always so nice, and so was her friend Wufei. The Lady and Wufei argued a lot. He calls me “Lotus Blossom,” and when I asked what it was, he said it was a beautiful flower that grew where he was from.

“Sally, I’m going to be going home early today. Can you finish the paperwork for me?” The Lady asked. I was hoping she wouldn’t say anything about what had happened.

“Yes I can, but is something the matter?” Sally asked.

I winced, praying the Lady wouldn’t say anything.

“Oh, no…not at all,” the Lady said calmly, “I just wanted to take some time off. That’s all.”

“Well, you sure do need it,” I heard Sally reply, “I’ll get the paperwork done, ma’am.”

“Thank you, Sally,” She said as she closed the communicator and put it back in her pocket, then turned to look at me and smiled. I breathed a sigh of relief.

We pulled into our driveway. Our house was beautiful. It was a large Victorian house….like something I’d seen in a motion picture. I wanted to live there…to grow a rose garden there…to compose music and paint masterpieces there. The Lady had agreed to buy the house if I completed my basic academic studies. It didn’t seem like such a bad deal. I think she wanted the house as much as I did.

She pulled the car into the carport and I hopped out and ran ahead of her into the house, slamming the screen door behind me. I didn’t want her to see me cry. I’d been holding the tears back all day.

I ran down the hallway, my loafers creating loud “thuds” against the wood paneled floor. I flung open the stairs that led to the attic and ran up them, two at a time, until I reached the door that led into the attic itself. I opened it and ran inside, slamming it behind me. I ran to a window and threw my head down on the windowsill, not caring about the musty attic smell and the dust that flew into my face and up my nose.

I don’t know how long I sobbed there until I felt the Lady’s arms around me. She sat there and hugged me silently for a while, then tilted my head up and brushed the tears away.

“Let’s get you cleaned up before you get infected,” she said with a smile.

I followed her back down the stairs and down the hallway, then back up the stairs that led to where our bedrooms were. She took me into her bathroom and started to run a bath. I loved taking baths in the Lady’s bathroom. She had a large antique tub with all different colored roses painted over it. Instead of a plain plastic shower curtain, she had used a beautiful white Lace curtain.

I watched as she opened the white cabinet below her mauve colored sink and pulled out a bottle of pink liquid. She dropped a few drops into the water as it started to foam. The smell of roses filled the bathroom as she put the bottle back and reached into a silk drawstring bag and pulled out a handful of fresh rose petals and sprinkled them in the tub.

She turned her back and I took my clothes off and stepped into the tub, sighing in relief. She turned and picked up an ivory colored sponge and dabbed at my black eye.

“Do you have any more scrapes or cuts?” She asked me as I nodded and held my elbow up. She frowned when she saw my wound; a big red scrape mark. She gently wiped it clean, then handed me the sponge and drew the curtain. She was always careful not to intrude upon me. I liked that about her.

I dipped the sponge into the water and watched as the air bubbles rose to the top of the water as the sponge soaked itself full. I saw the Lady sit on the floor beside the tub. She faced the doorway.

“Would you like to tell me what happened today?” She asked me softly. I knew she was going to ask sooner or later. I might as well tell her.

“They were picking on me again…and that boy…the one who always picks on me….said you were a crazy old lady and I pushed him….and he hit me.” I said quickly as if to hurt her less.

She was silent for a moment, and I thought maybe she was angry with me. I peered through the tiny holes in the lace curtain to see her remove the wire rimmed glasses and rub her forehead. She must have been getting another headache. She got them a lot. Especially when she was stressed or sad.

“Well…” She sighed, “I appreciate you taking up for me, but….you should control your temper, MarieMaia. People are going to talk about me. I’ve accepted it. You should also.”

I frowned. How could she let them talk about her that way? It wasn’t fair. Why didn’t she stand up for herself more?

“MarieMaia,” she said quietly, “Don’t concern yourself with it. I know it seems weak of me not to say anything, but if I were to challenge everyone who questioned me, then I would be eaten up with anger and hatred. Then they would be the winner. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” I said. I understood, but I still didn’t like it. I decided not to say anything else about it. “I’m done,” I said as I pulled the stopper, watching the water go down the drain, bubbles, rose petals and all.

She got up and got a mauve towel and handed it around the lace curtain to me. I dried myself off and stepped out as handed me some play clothes, which I put on.

She reached into the medicine cabinet and pulled out iodine for my scraped elbow. I grimaced as she applied the stingy solution. She blew gently on the scrape, then put a large Band-Aid over it and sent me off to play.

I spent the rest of the afternoon walking through the rose garden, examining the various colored blooms. The Lady said my father loved roses. I guess that’s why she has them everywhere, but I think it’s probably not just because of him but because she likes them too. She doesn’t talk about him a whole lot, and when she does, it makes her terribly sad.

I look up to see the sky getting dark. It’s time for me to go inside. I make my way up the walkway and I see the Lady come out onto the back porch. She’s looking for me.

“Sorry,” I mumble as she smiles and grabs my hand.

“It’s ok. Are you hungry?” She says as I smile and nod. Her hair is still pulled up into the braided buns but she’s taken the glasses off. She had changed out of the green uniform into a t shirt and a pair of jeans. I look down at her bare feet as we walk into the house. Her toenails have been painted a deep crimson color.

“Will you paint my toenails like yours?” I say as I sit down at the table. She pours a bowl of soup for me. I watch as the steam rises and curls.

“Yes,” she answers as she puts a plate with a turkey sandwich and potato chips in front of me, next to the soup. “Sorry it isn’t very much of a supper, but I forgot to go to the market today,” she apologizes. I take a sip of the soup and smile. It’s potato soup…my favorite.

“It’s okay,” I say as she smiles and stares at me for a moment, a wistful look on her face.

“You look like your father,” She murmurs as she takes her gaze away and sips her soup. She brings the spoon to her mouth in a dainty and sophisticated manner, as if she were at some formal dinner party. I don’t know what to say. I can’t quite be sure if that’s a compliment or not. I just finish my food in silence, as does she.

“Let me wash the dishes for you tonight,” I ask as I pick up her empty bowl and plate. It’s the least I could do. She did, after all, rescue me.

“Thank you,” she says and rises from her chair. “I’m going to go take a bath. Let me know if you need me for anything.”

I nod and set out to finish my task as I hear her walking slowly up the steps, mumbling something in a foreign language. I identified it as German. “And now to drown my sorrows in a long bubble bath once again,” she’d said.

The Lady could speak many different languages; English, German, French and Italian. She’d taught me a little of each, but mostly Italian, because that was the language most operas were sung in. I’d announced that I planned to be a professional musician when I became older. Instead of ridiculing me or laughing as most people had done when I’d told them of my dreams, she’d gone to the cabinet in the study and had pulled out several old books.

“I know you are only eight,” she had said, “But I think you are intelligent enough to learn these. Most of them are in Italian, French and German, but I can teach you if you would like.” She handed me the books and I lovingly held them, caressing the pages. I flipped through them, not knowing which one to choose first.

I never knew why I was smarter than the other children. I’d always hated it until I came to live with the Lady. She never made me feel insecure about it. In fact, she always did what she could to develop my intellect.

“Let me see,” she said as she motioned for me to hand her the yellow covered book. It was about to fall apart. She thumbed through and opened the book to a page and set the book in front of me. “Can you read that?” she asked as I shook my head.

“Repeat after me,” she instructed, “La-shaa-tay-mee Mor-reer-ay.” I did as she did. “Now, you say it on your own,” she said.

I struggled to find the correct pronunciation, finally getting it right.

“Lasciatemi Morire,” I said and smiled a triumphant grin. She smiled. “What does it mean?” I asked.

“No longer let me languish,” she said.

“What does that mean?” I asked.

“Don’t let me be unhappy any longer,” she said. I looked back at the music. The song fitted her.

She’d spent most of that night teaching me the notes and words without any accompaniment. The next day, after I came home from school, she told me to go into the study and practice my music. I started to protest but the look on her face told me I shouldn’t complain, so I did, and almost fainted when I walked into the room to see the beautiful ebony baby grand piano she’d bought and had delivered for me.

I remember the single tear that ran down my face. Not even my blood relatives had cared so much to even listen to me talk about music. This Lady, my Lady, had not only spent her time to help me learn, but she had gone out, no questions asked and bought this piano for me.

I threw my arms around her and hugged her with delight. I think it took her aback for a moment, because she let out a tiny gasp before she put her arms back around me.

After that, she taught me piano and voice studies, promising to teach me instrumental if I did well.

I finish the dishes and tiptoe up the stairway and slink into the hallway outside of her room, sitting on the floor against the wall. I hear her murmuring to herself.

She talks to herself a lot, most of the time not knowing that I’m where I can hear her. It’s usually when she’s in the tub. I sit in the hallway and listen as she talks to herself and to my father. She often tells him that she misses him and how I’m doing. Sometimes she cries. She begs him to come back.

“Treize,” I hear her say, “Forgive me…my ill-reputation is causing her distress. I don’t know what I’m going to do. I want her to be where she can advance, but I can’t let her be somewhere like that school any longer. I just don’t know what to do….” She sighs and starts to sob quietly.

I can’t let her sob anymore. I walk into the bathroom and sit down on the cold white tile floor, fingering the squared tiles.

“Why are you crying?” I ask, even though I already know. She jolts, and I see a little bit of water splash out onto the floor. She pulls the lace curtain back and peeks out.

“You scared me!” She exclaims. Her hair is out of the buns and cascades down her back, some over the side of the tub. There are tearstains on her face.

“Sorry,” I mumble as her face softens.

“It’s all right,” she says and disappears back behind the lace curtain.

“Why were you crying?” I ask again. I hear the splishes and splashes of the water. “Well…. for a lot of reasons, I suppose,” she says.

“You think that today was your fault, don’t you?” I say, expecting her to peek her head around the curtain again, but she doesn’t.

“Yes,” she says, “I fear that you suffer because of things I did when I was young and foolish.”

“What sort of things?” I say.

“I had a terrible temper and sometimes I allowed it to influence my decisions. Because of that, a lot of people were hurt,” she says it almost in a whisper, as if she were going to cry again.

“I don’t want to go back to that school,” I say…almost defiantly. She still doesn’t peek from behind the curtain.

“What do you propose to do about it?” She asks.

“Can’t you hire someone to teach me at home?” I ask. I’d heard of other children who’d had governesses.

“Yes, if that is what you really want and if you will promise to finish your schooling,” she said as she squeezed some shaving lotion on her hand. It smelled like lilies.

I was relieved. I thought she’d surely turn my request down.

“Why do you call me ‘your’ child?” I asked, not even fully realizing what I’d asked until it had flown from my mouth. I’d been pondering over that for a long time now, and I guessed that my subconscious decided to play a cruel joke on me. I clasped my hand over my mouth lightly. I didn’t want to offend her.

“Well,” she said softly, “I suppose because I…. because I’ve grown attached to you and I really do consider you as my child…but…” she paused for a moment to shake the cream from her razor, “If it bothers you, I won’t say it anymore.”

“No…no…I didn’t mean that…” I stammer. I didn’t mean to make her feel bad. I actually like the idea that she considers me hers. No one else does. Even Dekim didn’t. He never even told me he loved me. “I…I like for you to…” I say quietly.

“Well, I’m glad…” she said, and fell silent again. I know she was wishing she were really my mother. I know, because I wished it too.

That’s when it hit me. She was my mother. The dead lady who’d carried me and birthed me was just another lady. She was The Lady, not the lady sitting in front of me. The Lady hidden behind the wispy lace veil in the beautiful rose tub WAS my mother. She was the only mother I’d ever known and, quite frankly, wanted to know.

“Me too…” I said softly as I pressed my hand against the cold tile floor. It made a faint handprint that quickly evaporated.

“…Mother.”

The lace curtains jerked back and I looked up to see her surprised face. Her eyes widened for a moment, then softened as huge tears began to roll down her cheeks, and she smiled a sweet smile.

She looked like an angel….maybe she was an angel that my father sent to watch over me. Whether she was or wasn’t an angel, one fact remained clear:

She was my mother….and I loved her.

I flew to the side of the tub and added further surprise to her face when I flung my arms around her, not caring if I got wet or not. I felt my long sweat pants soak with water as the jolt from my embrace sent a waterfall of suds and rose petals to the floor. I still didn’t care and I hugged her even harder.

“I love you,” I whispered as I felt the salt from my own tears, which had started to fall without me even realizing it.

She hugged me back. I drank her sweet smell in…the beautiful flowery fragrance.

“I love you too,” She said through her sobs.

We sat there; mother and daughter, and held each other for what seemed to be eternity. Finally, we both realized that not only was I soaking wet, but the floor of her bathroom was flooded. She laughed and I handed her a towel for her to dry off on.

After we had mopped up the water in the bathroom and I had gotten into some dry clothes and she was in her beautiful red satin nightgown she painted my toenails. After the last coat of polish had dried, I held my foot up to hers to compare. We both sat there, admiring for a while until she finally said, “Time for bed.”

I nodded and she followed me in my room and tucked me into my bed with the multicolored sheets, blankets and comforters I’d requested, giving me a light kiss on the forehead.

“Goodnight, Marie,” she says as she flips the light off and closes the door softly behind her.

I snuggle up in my bed and grab my stuffed seal that I’d hidden under the pillow. It was the only thing my father had ever given to me. He didn’t even get to give it to me himself. Dekim had refused to let me have it and had thrown it into the trash. My uncle Trowa had saved it for me and brought it to me, instructing me never to let Dekim see it. I suppose I don’t have to hide it anymore, but I still do out of habit.

I hug it tightly to me and close my eyes.

“Goodnight, Father,” I mumble as I slip into sleep…my eyelids grow heavy and just before sleep comes to take me, I murmur, “Goodnight….

“….Mother.”