Autumn Skies // A miraxus fanfiction

//Chapter 1//

Chapter 1- Lisanna
My Friday night's are pretty consistent, and that's something I'm proud of.
I catch the bus home straight after school and walk the thirty second walk home with my head phones blasting. When I reach our little Victorian terrace house, I go inside and slip of my shoes, placing them carefully on the shoe rack I like keeping organised. The next step it to go say hello to my little-big brother Elfman.
Little in age, big in size.
"Hey, Elfman." I say, letting myself into his bedroom. He doesn't look up from his xBox, just sits there shooting at zombies.
He's weird like that, my brother, but I don't mind at all.
"How are you man?" he asks, smashing R as he fires his machine gun into the mass of resurrected soldiers.
"Same old, same old."
And then I go to my room, pull off my school uniform, shove it far out of site for the weekend and pull on the comfiest clothes available.
Today, that's some scabby leggings and one of Elfman's old t-shirts.
Comfort over style.
When I'm done dressing like a hobo, I potter downstairs and flop on the big, squishy sofa, turning the TV onto whatever channel is looking particularly trashy.
Friday's weren't always like this though.
Not before Lisanna died.
Lisanna.
As soon as school was over for the week, we used to go to this lovely independent cafe and drink smoothies together. And my beautiful younger sister would attract every eye in the room- the energy she omitted was infectious, addictive. Lisanna shone brighter than the sun, and I missed that brightness.
Once we were done enjoying our drinks, we'd link arms and go to the edge of the river to watch the ducks float by. Whist I stood a safe few paces back from the edge, she'd take off her shoes and tights and sit with her legs dangling over the edge, her ankles submerged in the freezing water.
She was always way braver, way cooler than me, and I suppose I was a little jealous.
And now she was gone.
Don't cry idiot.

I set about making tea- a quick vegetarian chickpea curry with brown rice. When she was thirteen Lisanna decided she wanted to go vegan, after seeing something on the internet about animal cruelty. Honestly I think it was partly just her way of rebelling- my Dad's a meat enthusiast and without cheese he's probably just fade away. He grew up on a farm and they used to get loads of fresh milk, cream and he always talks about how great it was when they got to kill the pigs because they'd have bacon for breakfast at least once a week.
But anyway, Lisanna started pinning up all these pictures of sad animals and eventually she had me going veggie as well, because some of the stuff out there is actually pretty horrible.
As for the brown rice, Mum's always said it has more flavour (which is true) and it makes us feel healthy (it's a wholegrain so that makes us cool) so why not?
When it got to that point in the recipe where it says 'Leave to simmer for a few centuries until the vegetables are tender' I went and flopped at the dinner table, grabbing an unsuspecting newspaper as entertainment. I never read newspapers, but it's fun to make up stories to go with the pictures. For example, the front cover of that particular paper showed the queen holding a little baby boy- evidently, she had been accused of kidnapping children and using them as test subjects to create a new super race of geniuses.
Damn right.
The front door swung open, and I quickly dropped the paper and hurried to the tea pot.
"Hey, Mum, how was work?" I asked cheerily as I made my beautiful creator a mug of tea.
"It was okay, how was school?"
"It was okay. You okay?"
"Yeah, you?"
"Yeah."
"Thanks for making tea, love."
"No problem."
There were huge, bruise-like bags under Mum's eyes, and I don't think she'd brushed her hair since her daughter died.
"I'll go get changed," Mum gave me a vague smile, which I returned along with a quick hug. She hugged me back, then grabbed her work bag and lugged it up to her and Dad's room where she'd probably sit crying and hugging a photo of Lisanna until dinner was ready.

The three of us sat around the dinner table, our eyes shut as I said grace.
"Dear Lord,
"Thank you for this food and your talented servant who prepared it,
"Amen."
We all tried our best not to look at the empty seat at the table. There would've been two empty chairs, but Cynthia-Rose had taken Dad's seat and was surveying us all rather judgmentally.
Even the cat wouldn't look at or go near Lisa's chair though.
"What is it?" Elfman asked, poking the curry judgmentally with the end of his fork.
"It's curry and rice, what does it look like?" I replied, rolling my eyes, picking up my own cutlery and devouring a mouthful. It was pretty good, if I do say so myself.
"Chicken curry?"
Yeah, Elfman had the same taste buds as Dad.
"Chickpea, practically the same thing."
"Herbivore." He muttered, shoving a forkful into his mouth. He chewed distastefully, and I had to admit that it hurt me; he never used to complain when Lisanna did the cooking, so why was it different when I made something?
"I think it's lovely," Mum chirped up, and I looked over at her untouched food.
"Did you eat lunch?" I asked her, and she looked away.
"Yeah, of course."
Mum had lost a lot of weight the past month, and when I asked my therapist about the not eating she just told me it was a coping method that would go away soon.
Once I'd eaten, Elfman had forced down his portion and Mum had chopped everything into tiny pieces and pushed it around, I cleared the table and brought over a tin of biscuits.
"I baked some cornish fairings- they're unrefined and vegan, I used Lisa's old recipe-" I quickly shut myself up when I saw Mum's lip start to wobble. Her eyes were already red from crying, and I'd gone and made things worse.
"I'd have one," Elfman broke the silence, and I quickly passed him a particularly big one.
"No, thank you," Mum was just staring hard at Lisanna's empty place.
Cynthia-Rose meowed at me, wondering where all the tension had cone from.
Then, like a redeeming angel sent to save us, Dad came crashing through the door and into the kitchen.
"Sorry about the noise guys! What's for dinner?" He looked around at the three of us, spotted my Mum who hadn't even looked up and gave me a questioning look. I bit my lip, and he followed Mum's gaze to the empty chair.
Understanding flickered through him.
He didn't say anything, just swept over to her, pulled her to her feet and held her.
My Dad's amazing like that.

In the end, Mum had half her dinner and a biscuit, so I felt like that was something. A sign maybe.
We'd be okay.
"You should come to yoga again with me. The ladies all loved seeing you, and it'll be fun," Mum asked hopefully as we sat on the sofa together watching a documentary on kangaroos.
Two weeks ago Mum invited me along to yoga and I was happy to give it a try. And yoga's great, I'd do it again, but not with her class. I spent the entire session being watched sympathetically by all twenty six middle aged women, and at least four fifths of them came up to me to pat me on the shoulder and give me inspiring speech- my favourite of which went:
"Life goes on, Mira, just give it time."
I know my life will go on, but this isn't about me. It's about the fact that Lisanna's life isn't going on, and no matter how much time I give her she won't come back. So pretty words, Sally Bishop, but you have no idea what you're talking about.
"I'd love to but I have homework," I told her innocently, and her face fell.
"Couldn't you do it another day? Please, Mira, for me?" she pleaded, and Mum looked so sad I gave in.
"Yeah, I guess."
And it was worth it for the smile on her face.

This time, I was hugged thirty three times (some of the ladies came back for more) and told that suffering brings me closer to God. I actually liked that, and though the hugs were awkward they weren't unbearable.
And Mum seemed so at peace that I thought maybe I'd go to the next session too.
Yoga is good for the soul, after all.