House of Scales

Chapter 5: Wise words

She covered her mouth with her hand while her fingers wiped away the tears, which hindered the reading.

"Oh, Simone, this is beautiful," she whispered as she sat on the living room couch. "Thank you so much for showing me this."

Sasha continued to be in awe as her fingers caressed the covers of Sasha Devlin's texts. She hiccupped slightly as she enjoyed, as I had, one of the few memories left of her.

"Why did Dad never show this to us?" she mumbled annoyed.

"I don't even know if he knew of its existence," I admitted, recalling that even our uncle had had difficulty in finding it and hadn't known for sure whether he still had such a relic in his possession.

"He could have told us," she reproached, putting her feet on the little mahogany table between her and the sofa where I was sitting with another of the stories. "I understand that he threw away the furniture and clothes; everyone grieves as they need to, but I don't think he only kept but a few pictures of her."

"This is the closest I'll ever be of remembering her words, the way she spoke."

Sasha looked at me with surprise in her eyes and then gave me a kind and understanding look.

"You don't remember her?"

I sighed. It was a topic I didn't like to talk about. I remembered way too little. Only moments, blurry scenes. I didn't even remember what her voice sounded like. It seemed as if all those memories were locked up in the depths of my mind and didn't want to come out. Maybe for my safety, I couldn't know.

"It's difficult for me. Everything is blurry."

"It's a pity, Simone," she said while standing up and, to my surprise, reach for a hug. "She was a wonderful woman. A very caring mother."

I didn't remember Sasha being so open with her feelings. We had never hugged each other like this, with such tenderness, as the tears bathed our faces.

"I'd have liked to have spent more time with her."

"I know, Sim, I know. I miss her too, very much." She kissed my forehead. "That's why I sleep with that blanket even in summer."

"Did it belong to her?" I asked, surprised, for we've never spoken about it.

"It was hers. She wrapped that little blanket around me for the first time when we got home from the hospital. I even washed it with the same fabric softener she used. It reminds me of her and makes me sleep well. I guess we all have our ways of missing her."

"I guess you're right, even Dad."

"Anyway, enough with the chitchat," she laughed and gave me a good whack on the back. "Now you have to prepare for your date, or are you going to go with that hairdo?"

I touched my hair. What was wrong with my hair?

"It's not a date!"

"Go and dress up a little, you can't be that careless if you're meeting a girl, are you dumb?"

"Alright, alright," I sighed, getting up and going to the bathroom to fix the untamed morning hair.

Just when I had managed to keep some of the bangs from pointing irretrievably upwards, I heard the doorbell ring. I grabbed the shirt I had taken off, in a hurry, and went downstairs to face Charles who, as always, was late.

"Did your sheets get stuck?" I asked as I opened the door. "Or do you still not know how a watch works?"

My voice broke on the spot. I expected Charles' blue eyes to look at me with mockery and his typical narcissism, but only one blue eye looked back at me. The other was a deep green and didn't match the dark hair gathered around a dark blue braid.