Amentia

Chapter 51 - Guilt

At dinnertime, Ruvyn and Az delivered warm plates around the caravan. No one wanted to sit down at the table: the empty seat would be unbearable to look at. Everyone ate in their respective bedrooms except Nati, who still sat on the couch and did not seem to have intentions of eating the food left for her, and Meiko and Anna, who sat outside to keep an eye on Zoe. Az and Ruvyn joined them, this being the closest thing to a family dinner they could get at the moment. They ate mostly in silence with their eyes going from the plate to Zoe and back. The roots that surrounded Zoe's body had grown small, round leaves and even a few white flowers, which were big as the palm of a human hand. After a long time of observation, the troupers realized that the color of the flowers was turning black at the center and slowly expanding to the tips of the petals. Depending on the area of the body they were placed, the black was more or less advanced. Not surprisingly, the head and feet were the areas where the flowers were the whitest. Clearly Zoe would be trapped in there at least until the following day.

Knowing Meiko would be too polite to, Anna asked Ruvyn about the loss Omylia had suffered. From the way Meiko had described the emotions and physical pain to her, it was quite clear what kind of loss it had been, but maybe Ruvyn would have more insight that could help Meiko's endeavor.

"It happened before she joined the troupe, so I only know the Omylia that has already gone through it; I don't know who she was before," said Ruvyn. Meiko nodded solemnly, and Anna knew she'd heard something important in those words. "And she didn't even tell us about it until about two years later. We have a play in which a mother loses her child in battle and it must have triggered bad memories for her. She had a crisis and ended up telling us about her miscarriage. But that is the extent of what we know."

The next morning was slow-starting. The alarm rang as if it was any other day, but it was long minutes before anyone moved from their beds. Even Ruvyn and Az struggled to get up, feeling the previous day suddenly putting all its weight on them. The second day was usually worse than the first. There is less shock and more realization, an emotion that settles deeper inside one's heart and holds many other overwhelming emotions within.

Nina was the first to get out of bed. Before doing so, she turned her head to look at Adam sleeping next to her and moved a strand of hair away from his eyes, which were still fairly red and puffy from having cried well into the night. She looked at him for a moment... he always seemed so strong and confident to her, but now he looked fragile, like he'd lost all his defenses.

In the hallway, she looked at the closed door of Maylin's bedroom for longer than she should have. Sighing and wiping soft tears off her cheeks, she went downstairs and found Nati sleeping on the couch. Not wanting to wake her, Nina grabbed a fruit and went outside. The sun wasn't fully up yet, the purple forest tinged with the soft blue light of morning. The clouds from the day before were long gone and in their place blew a cool breeze. The view was almost beautiful. There was someone who would never be able to enjoy this forest ever again, and it felt wrong to enjoy it without her.

Zoe was still floating among leafy roots, the flowers around her all black except for a few white spots here and there. Nina sat near Zoe and took a bite out of the fruit, the usually sweet juice feeling practically tasteless.

When Adam woke up, there was a brief moment of bliss in which he thought the day before had only been his imagination playing a trick on him, just a bad dream. But then he opened his eyes and he knew. When he'd walk out that door, there would be someone missing who would never return, would never roll her eyes at him again, tease him or call him by his nickname. When he'd walk out that door, there would only be a vessel, an empty shell, of the closest thing Adam had ever got to a mother in this world. The finality of it was overwhelming. He would never see her again. Had he appreciated her enough while she was still there? Had he let her know how much she meant to him while they could still talk? When she'd left for the market the day before, had he said anything to her, like "see you later" or "be safe"? He couldn't remember. It was so common for her to go to the Plaza that he hadn't even paid attention; it was unimaginable that she wouldn't come back that day. She always came back.