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“They were never found,” she says, with a tone of melancholy in her voice. “There was no car, no vehicle of any sort. Not even a bicycle.” She chuckles at the last words, at the obviously ridiculousness of the whole situation. “I mean, something must have happened to them, right?” she asks, but I immediately recognize it’s a rhetorical question. She’s not really asking for a response, because we both already know it. “Why else would someone leave a little baby, all alone, by the side of the road?”
There is sadness in her voice. There is also rage. I can understand all of that. This feeling of not belonging, of constantly having to fight to prove that you are worthy of someone, something. But I don’t say any of that. I don’t know why. Sometimes, it is just safer to keep your mouth shut.
“And the shifters took you in?” I ask, instead of delving more deeply in the parents topic.
“Mhm,” she nods, matter-of-factly. “They never told me this, but I think not everyone wanted me here. Sometimes, I think more shifters wanted me gone than having me stay, but still somehow, I stayed.”
“Someone obviously wanted you here,” I point out.
“Milena,” she says a name that doesn’t mean anything to me, but the sound of that name lights up her face like a million little fireflies in the dark.
“Someone important?” I ask, but only so she would continue, so she would know that I am listening.
“She has been the only motherly figure I’ve known,” she explains. “But that was only for a few years. Then she… died.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I say.
She turns to me finally, after what seems to be a small eternity of her face just staring into the distance, at some invisible spot visible only to her and no one else.
“She died years ago,” she tells me. “Sometimes, I can’t even see her face with my mind’s eye anymore, and that frightens me more than anything else.”
I think for a moment, then I ask. “Do you try to remember her with your eyes open?”
She frowns. “Yeah,” she nods. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Try with your eyes closed,” I say, stopping.
Slightly startled, she does the same.
“Relax,” I instruct, taking her by the wrists and adjusting the position of her body so that she is now standing facing me. I let go, and she focuses her eyes on me. She is waiting. I guess I am also.
I wet my lips. I feel like something inside of me is in need of air, in need of water.
“Close your eyes,” I tell her. I wait until she does it. She hesitates for a moment, then obeys.
I take this moment to look at her, to really look at her. For a moment, I am overtaken by how stunning she is. I don’t know if she even knows this. I can see her fingers fidgeting nervously. She doesn’t know what to expect, and yet, she trusts me enough to keep her eyes closed and wait patiently. That knowledge hits me like a ton of bricks.
I feel like shit. Like a bastard for giving in to my urges, when I know that we can’t be together. I can’t give her what she needs. It has nothing to do with my emotions, or hers. It is simply how things are.
“Now what?” she asks, interrupting my train of thought. Still, she doesn’t open her eyes.
“Sorry,” I grin. “Keep your eyes closed. Now, try to remember Milena.”
I give her a moment or two. I can see her eyes fluttering underneath her eyelids. We’re standing that close. I could lean in and kiss her. I know where it would lead. I fight this urge and focus on the present moment.
“Can you see her?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “Barely. It’s like she’s in a fog.”
“Try to remember something she said,” I continue, not getting discouraged.
“Like what?” she wonders, still with her eyes closed.
“Whatever,” I shrug to myself. “Maybe a song she used to sing to you, some wise words you might remember.”
“A song,” she recognizes, nodding. Then, she starts humming. I can’t tell what song it is, but it doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is that Bianca is recognizing it as something that is connecting her to this woman who was the only mother she has ever known, even if it was for a very short while.
I let her hum for as long as she likes. I don’t know how long we just keep standing there, probably looking like a pair of two idiots. But none of that matters. She is trying to remember someone important. I know what that feels like, not to be able to remember something important, something that you are so desperately afraid you might forget.
