Astorial’s eyes lit up as if on fire. Something flashed in them, something
that Anna couldn’t identify. With sudden brutality, he let out a howl before
screaming, “Yes! Oh yes! We knew it.”
Anna, a questioning look on her face, went to ask him whom exactly ’we’ was,
and what exactly they 'knew,' but before she even began to form the first word,
he had already interrupted her urgently.
“I was right! Aren’t I always? Oh! Lynaira!” And then, calling, “Hey,
Lynai--”
Anna put a hand over his mouth in shock. “What are you doing?” She released
him, but kept her hand near his lying jaw.
He seemed confused. “I’m calling to tell Lynaira, of course.”
“You promised to never tell anyone!”
“But . . .” His childish eyes didn’t seem to understand. “She’s my best
friend.”
“She’s your sister, for God’s sake! Doesn’t mean you get to tell her!”
Anna’s words were too sharp, so she tried to lighten it by saying, “Besides . .
. we’re friends now, right? Friends don’t betray other friends.”
“No, you don’t understand. I’m not betraying.” His eyes were still bright,
his body was on edge with happiness. “Lynaira! Come, bring Cyladminnie. We’re
taking Anna to the shack!”
Lynaira, who had been pointedly ignoring the two since her departure, spun
about in surprise and shock. “What? Why would we ever do that?”
“Trust me.” His smile was almost devilish. He leapt out of Anna’s lap and
straight up to the pair, where he hurriedly whispered something in Lynaira’s
ear. Her eyes jumped in shock.
“Come on, let’s go!” Nearly dragging the two over to Anna, he asked
earnestly to the human, “How fast can you run?”
Anna stood up. She felt her heart burn suddenly yet strongly, and a memory
of Darell passed through her mind. She ignored it and questioned, “Why?”
“I don’t want you to lag behind.” Astorial grinned his grin again, that
mischievous grin, and Anna couldn’t help but love it.
Without a moment’s warning, the three took off running. Anna took a wary
glance at Brassin and then flew after them as fast as she could. It took her
only a few seconds to realize that they were heading towards the hammock of
trees, and suddenly was bewildered and confused. But, without giving it much
more thought, she let the thumping of her feet fall in rhythm with the cubs’.
Anna had never been much of a runner, but imagining the beat of her feet was
actually the beat of a pencil upon a sheet of paper seemed to help marvelous
much. Drawing. She had always loved it, even from a young age. She could still
remember sitting out on the porch one day and catching Eliott without his normal
book. His tales were replaced with a few bound sheets of paper. She had been
confused and interested, and crept over to him, until she slowly peeked her head
above his pad.
“Yes, Anna?” he had asked dully without looking up.
“What’re you doing?” Her voice wasn’t questioning, but in complete and utter
shock, as if she had found a saint murdering.
Perhaps it was her voice that made him look up, or perhaps there was some
distant part of his heart that knew one day drawing would be the only thing she
had left.
He had sat her down and taught her. He had given her a pencil and a sheet of
paper. “Let your imagination run wild, Anna! Draw the first thing that comes to
mind. Make it beautiful, fantastic, spectacular!”
She drew a bunny with a carrot. When the two year old showed him her work,
she looked intimidated and worried.
He only grinned. “Don’t be scared, Anna. It’s wonderful. You really made
this bunny you. That’s what art is, Anna. Taking ordinary things and making them
extraordinary. Taking ordinary things and making them you.”
Those words would follow her forever. Nearly everything she did from then
on, she tried to make it extraordinary. Tried to make it her.
Such small things the mind remembers! She remembered the entire scene, even
when she was two years old, and could very clearly remember that blooming right
next to Eliott was a white jasmine. For some reason, it reminded her of a bunny,
hiding in its burrow at day and adventuring out when nightfall swept over the
land. That’s why she drew a bunny. The carrot came with, of course, because all
two year olds believed that carrots were just always with a bunny, like a dress
or toy was with a little girl.
But those memories were gone, pressed together awkwardly like the pages in a
book in Anna’s mind. She looked around at the landscape that was dancing past
her gracefully, linking arms and spinning gradually out of sight, reacting to
the hum of the footsteps. Anna almost smiled, but even the thought of smiling
burned a hole in her heart.
Suddenly she was gone, lost in her book of memories, but it was the later
chapters. Darell was there. They were sitting on a tree in the forest, long
after they had run away, long after her last flash back. She was laughing at
something he had said, and he was studying her face very intently.
“What?” she had questioned, her smile immediately fading.
It was his turn to grin. “You have a gorgeous smile. You should show it more
often.”
“What’s there to smile about?”
Darell laughed aloud. “Pessimist.”
“I prefer . . . realist.” She grinned again, against her better judgment.
He returned her smile to her. “As would any true pessimist say.”
“Shut up.”
But, no, Anna must go back. She must read the story as she started it, go
back to where her memories had last left her. Where was she?
She was walking down to dinner with her father. The stair handle felt coarse
in her hand, and she almost closed her eyes as she walked down the stairs. The
argued words between her and Darell still rang in her head, and she was almost
frightened at the prospect of being yelled at her father.
Anna slid down the stairs and opened her eyes to the living room. To her
great dismay, everyone was seated and waiting for her. Marcus sat between his
mother and Celine, reaching up to grab food and stuff it in his mouth despite
their scoldings, Raf sitting next to Celine, an empty chair, and then her
father, who was also next to her mother. Anna hated them all immediately for
seating her next to her two least favorite people.
“Ah, Anna,” her father greeted. The rest of the table turned to see her, and
Raf stood up, as was proper etiquette. Almost reluctantly, her father stood as
well.
“I’m glad you’ve come. Supper’s getting cold,” he said in a falsely sweet
voice, pulling out Anna’s chair.
Without speaking a word, she walked up to her chair and sat down. She felt
all eyes on her, waiting for her to yell or scream or curse out her father.
Instead, she scooted her chair in and reached for her fork.
They were having turkey and beans that night, a very plentiful and large
meal. Anna kept her eyes on her plate, burning to start an argument but at the
same time having no real motive to. What was the point of starting an argument?
She decided to keep herself quiet.
The rest of the table was silent as well. Everyone but Father looked
awkwardly from him to Anna to their food. The silence was daunting, brooding,
rude, and the impact of it was suffocating Anna. It was like there was a weight
on her chest, restricting her breath, keeping her from breathing properly. She
began to take deep breaths, and suddenly felt light-headed. She wasn’t sure
whether it was the lack of breath or the impending anger that was throwing her
head out of loop. Heat crept in the back of her neck, and trying to calm
herself, she messed with her food.
It was silent for a whole of twenty minutes. She tried to focus on other
things, like mashing her green beans and cutting her sliver of turkey into
bite-sized pieces, but her mind reverted back to the man sitting next to her,
his giddy face grinning, eating his food almost merrily as if he was rejoicing
in her misery. As if she had given him the best birthday present of all. And so
the world began to spin, and she felt her chest grow tighter, and tighter, and
tighter, and . . .
She threw down her fork and stood up. The family looked up robotically, each
of them looking as if they were confused and shocked, but sort of expecting this
to happen the entire time.
“I can’t take this anymore!” she screamed to them all, then turned to her
father. She felt her chest lighten, and her heart raced at a rapidly break-neck
speed, urging her every word on encouragingly. “I can’t take you anymore,
Father!” She was about to go on, but he interrupted her.
He didn’t say a word, he only laughed. His laughter made her stop dead in
her words--suddenly her eyes widened and went ablaze with anger. “Oh Anna,
Anna,” he cooed gently, but Anna could hear the hatred in his voice, “come, now.
Take a seat. Dinner’s just only begun!”
“Just begun? Well, I can’t take this hell for two more minutes!” She let all
her anger out, opened the cage that was restricting her. Everybody’s glance gave
her more power, gave her more fuel, more anger.
“Anna,” Celine whispered gently. At least her voice didn’t have hatred in
it. “Sit down, dear, let’s finish dinner. After all, it is his birthday.”
“I don’t give a damn whether or not it’s his birthday!” Everyone’s eyes went
wide at her simple curse, and Celine immediately put her hands over oblivious
Marcus’ ears.
“Anna, the ba--”
“What should I care if the baby heard it? Is he mine?” She kicked her chair
in and stepped away, her voice echoing through the room. “If I don’t care about
ruining my father’s birthday, why would I care about Marcus?” But her eyes were
on her father, not Celine. Her voice began to get higher with each word.
“Father! Is this what you wanted? Tell me, is this what you wanted?”
“I’m sure I don’t understand.” His voice plainly said he either didn’t care
or was lying. Or, thought Anna, both.
“Did you want me to hate you? Did you want me to explode at you? Why did you
come? Tell me, why are you here?”
Now he stood up as well. He didn’t seem angered, didn’t even seem bothered,
but it was obvious that he didn’t like Anna towering over him as if he was the
child.
“Well, Anna, I just wanted to spend dinner with my family, and--”
“Like hell you did!” She screamed this at the top of her lungs, throwing the
words into the air and leaving them to sit for a few more seconds before
cranking out her next thoughts. “You came into this family right after Celine’s
dad died. You woe my mother, make her feel better. Then you just sleep with her,
have me, and pretend as if you’ll remain a father figure in my life. You say you
love me. You tell Mother we had fun every night up in my room before I went to
bed.” Anna shook her head. The room was starting to swim in her tears. “Have you
ever told her the truth about those nights?” A pause while she waited for
response, and with her voice fashioned in venom, she again questioned, “Have
you?”
Her father’s expression had completely changed, from nonchalantness to
anger, pure, unruly anger. “How dare you! How dare you speak to me in such a
manner!” And without even a thought in the world, he stepped up and hit her
across the face.
Pain exploded in her left check. Anna stumbled backwards, grabbing onto the
back of Raf’s chair for support, bending over with her hand to her face.
“Father!” Celine stood up immediately, shock in her eyes. Her real father
she never knew, so she always considered Anna’s father as hers. “What . . .” She
stumbled in her shock. “What are you doing?”
“I’m showing her how to properly speak to her father. Anna!” Anna refused to
respond, pushing herself upright from Raf’s chair, keeping her back to her
father. “ANNA BLISSIL, YOU TURN AND FACE YOUR FATHER LIKE A PROPER DAUGHTER.”
“YOU LEARN HOW TO BE A PROPER FATHER AND I’LL BE A PROPER DAUGHTER.” Anna
turned back to face him. Celine knew exactly what she was going to do.
“No! Anna! STOP!” But before she had even finished her sentence, Anna was
upon him.
The fight didn’t last long. Anna had only hit him twice when he grabbed her
by the elbows and threw her against the wall. Mother ran out of the room in
terror while Marcus and Celine burst into tears. She kept on screaming for them
to stop, begging them, saying that violence wasn’t the answer.
After Anna hit her head against the wall, the world went blurry. She faintly
saw him approach her, his fists raised, and then heard a faint call, from
seemingly far away: “RAF!” And she saw someone crash into her father, and
immediately heard a new scuffle break out.
Part 2
Life is full of hard times and good times. Lift your chin up, Ladies and Gentlemen.