The Fields of Fire

Chapter 11: Alena Adana

When she saw the letter in her mailbox, she knew exactly what it was. Before she even opened it, her mind had already accepted what she'd soon read. She hated everyones' obsession with the war, including how her own son would spend hours glued to the radio at a time. Back in her day there was no such thing; stories about war were brought home by soldiers, so those stories were easier to trust, nothing like the propaganda on the radio those days. She wondered if he still did that at his school, or maybe he'd finally found better ways to spend his time. Either way she wouldn't know, it's not like he'd bothered to write back anyways.

Of course there was still the letter. She asked herself why she needed to bother to open at all? Maybe she'd wait. They used to send men to knock on their door and tell people this sort of stuff, tough strong boys in full military uniform. She guessed the point of all that was if you sent some hard looking rapscallion in full naval dress than maybe a newly widowed woman wouldn't break down into tears right in front of such a man. Seeing as the widow was now single, what kind of a girl would want to doom their prospects in front of such good looking navy folk? Of course, things were different in this case weren't they. This letter wasn't going to tell her that her husband wasn't coming home, she didn't need a letter for something as silly as that. She'd accepted the truth about Parsov a long time ago, accepting the truth about the letter however was taking its time.

She thought maybe she was being selfish, holding the letter in her dirt stained hands. But it's not like there was anyone left to judge her. She just wanted to hold onto it, what's the rush? she thought. Why not savor these last moments as a mother, a mother of both her children. She didn't need to accept the truth, for those few seconds she might look up at the door and see her daughter burst back through. She'd be defiant as ever of course, for some reason she always seemed mad that her true father had left her behind. But he wasn't her true father and no matter how hard Alena tried she could never make her see that. That man left Alena and her newborn daughter cold and alone, Parsov walked into that life, to raise a daughter he didn't know, to be a father and a husband in a family he had no obligation to be a part of, and all Tau could do was blame him for the truth. Her real father was a selfish bastard, that was the father she chose, the one she pretended was still out there waiting for her, and the dad who actually loved her was the one she hated. Oh what Alena would have given to shove that Irony down her daughter's throat, but hell, she figured if she could just see her again, she might even find the grace to forgive, to hug her daughter, to just nod and say "Yes, You are loved."

In her desperate attempt to avoid reality, she allowed her mind to travel to other alternative routes of thought. The letter could be a great manner of things, ever the pessimist however, Alena would only accept the worst possible alternative scenarios. It could be Arthus She thought. The letter had a government address and an official stamp, so she knew it wasn't one of the many letters he'd promised he'd write, but maybe it was him who had died? Maybe the rioters got to him or he was accidentally electrocuted by magic, maybe he just realized the truth about how everyone in the world hated people like him, so he stepped in front of a bus to get away from it all.

Alena loved having children, they let her pretend at least, to have hope, to be happy. They gave her life perspective and direction. Those days she'd get up in the morning and ask herself What is it today? What excuse can I make to put it off another 24 hours? when she still had children in the house the answer was obvious, it was strong. You have children who need you, She'd tell herself. But now the answer was weak, how would Arthus feel when he comes back if you're not here? If he comes back. If she comes back. If Parsov comes back. A life waiting for people to come home is no life at all, that much she knew.

Alena wanted to tear it up. The stupid letter. She had no need for it. They sent no letter when they took her husband, and she saw now that was a blessing. Being able to accept slowly, to do it over time, to start off having hope the stories weren't true, then the hope that he'd escape, than finally the last thoughts that he might of had an easy death. Grieving before accepting death, that was the best way to do it, but it can't be done without time. And the letter would not give her time.