The Fae World: Valatar: Anaïs: Waking Up
The first thing Anaïs remembered doing, even though she felt certain she should remember more, was waking up. Light was shining in through the window and it had disturbed her, even though the curtains were pulled. She didn’t remember pulling the curtains, or going to bed, or, as she realised she was wearing nothing, becoming naked. As they’d happened she felt sure she should, unless someone else had done all of those things, and that thought was more than a little disturbing. Yet, maybe, it really was the first day of her life… or, at least, the life she was living. Something she couldn’t put her finger on was niggling, but she didn’t think she was ready to go digging so she made the choice not to. Getting through her first morning, if that was what it was, was much more important. Breathing deeply she slipped out of the bed, the cold shocking her for a second when her warm feet touched the floor.
“Mum,” a voice called, making Anaïs search for the dressing gown she was certain was there, even though she wasn’t sure why she was certain. “You awake yet?”
By the time the child, Anaïs’ son, had opened the door, she had it on, and she smiled at the boy, trying to work out where he’d come from. He didn’t feel like her child, but it was obvious from the way he wrapped his arms around her that he felt he was. That was enough for her at that moment. She wrapped her arms around him, her mind whirring, because she knew something was wrong. What was it though? Once again she touched on that niggling and then chose to walk away. It wasn’t something she needed to do right at that moment, when she had the boy who thought he was her son in his arms. Later she would. She had to.
“Morning, love.” Anaïs hoped she sounded natural. “Want some breakfast?”
“Can you make pancakes?”
“Of course I can.”
Everything she said felt like a ritual, but she was certain it was the first time. For a moment, when the boy stepped backwards, she held onto him, to give herself a chance to study him. He didn’t seem like it bothered him, so maybe that was something he was used to as well. Their eyes met and she could see something within them, she felt like she knew him in some other way, although that was another thing she wouldn’t let herself think about too much. If she thought too much something she had a feeling that it would all fall apart. As she attempted to act as normal as possible she smiled at him, before taking hold of his hand to lead him along a path she believed she’d taken multiple times but knew she hadn’t. She knew it was something she wasn’t going to be able to cope with for too much longer.
Anaïs focused on her breathing, without making that too noticeable to the boy, in an attempt to keep herself as calm as possible. She pushed away all thoughts of the house not being hers, the child not being hers, the items in the house not being hers, the photographs around the house not being hers… focusing once more on her breathing she did her best to not have a panic attack when he thought everything was normal. He needed to keep thinking everything was normal. The problem was hers, not his, and she wasn’t going to make it his just because she couldn’t keep herself together. Unfortunately telling herself she’d have time to pick everything apart later didn’t help as much as she hoped it would, although it did bring her panic back down to manageable levels.
The calendar on the wall told Anaïs it was a Saturday. She was going to have to spend the whole day with the boy and attempt to keep herself calm, although she had no idea how she was going to that. Not when every little thing made her feel like she existed in two different places at the same time. Ignoring the niggle was getting harder with every minute that passed. A tear trickled down her cheek, one she wiped away with her free hand, telling herself sternly that she could not cry, not under any circumstances. The boy needed her to be strong. He believed she was his mother. That was the thing she had to focus on, no matter how hard it was. It wasn’t until he squeezed her hand that she realised he had noticed something.
“I know.” The boy looked at her. “Sometimes it still gets to me too, Mum, and you don’t have to be strong for me all the time. You’re hurting as well. Losing Dad…” He blinked, biting hard on his bottom lip. “We’ll be able to cope with it together, but that’s only if you tell me when you’re having a bad day. I can always make the pancakes.”
Laughing was not the reaction Anaïs expected to have, but she was glad that the boy had been able to make himself an explanation as to why she was feeling the way she was, even though it wasn’t the right one. “Thank you. That is appreciated, but I will be fine. It’s just…” She ran her tongue over her bottom lip. “How about I make the pancakes? That will take my mind off everything for a little while at least.”
“You’ve always made much better pancakes than I have.”
“When have you ever made pancakes?” That was her other self talking. “Could it have been that time I found a mess in the kitchen that no one was willing to admit to?”
“Maybe.” He brushed his free hand through his hair. “Dad said it was better if I didn’t say anything, because he ended up finished them off when he came in to find me attempting my own. I wanted yours but you were so busy then and I didn’t want to interrupt you. Your work was always so important to you.” He looked at her again. “When are you planning on going back to work?”
“Sometime.” Anaïs sighed. “Right now I’m happy being home, but if that changes I will go back to work. I promise.” She didn’t know why she’d said that. “Now I’m going to focus on making the pancakes, as you obviously want them bad enough to come running into my room without knocking on the door.” Another thing she said that seemed to be coming from her other self. “Please don’t do that again.”
Mirrored from K. A. Webb Writing.