In the Eyes of a Child - Part 7/9
I’d always enjoyed the view from my balcony. Between large trees stretching past my vantage point towards the sky, I could see the empty road, and beyond it I knew that a waterfall was thundering down into the canyon - I could hear the distant roar, and it made me feel less alone. My jogging route used to go along the edge of that canyon. It had been a long time since I’d followed it.
The house itself was oddly comforting in all its futuristic glory. I’d fallen in love immediately upon our first visit, and Christopher had bent to my wishes after some coercion. The house seemed to be haphazardly put together by several differently sized boxes, windows large and square and the different floor levels indoors unexpected and strange. White and grey dominated every piece of interior, strengthening the slightly eerie impression of this modernistic piece of architecture.
The colourless light made the golden ring on my finger glint dully as I turned my hand, studying it. For seven years I had been married to Chris, and for the majority of those years I had been happy. It was time to let him go. My destiny was here, with my daughter. Marriage had turned out to be a word just as pointless as “reality”. Or “sin”.
Carefully, I removed the ring, looking at the mark left on my finger for a moment before turning my gaze back to the view.
--
Sharon had been in a cheerful mood all day, and we had spent a lot of it drawing pictures in the kitchen. Cybil had gone out on her bike to get us more food, but I suspected that she mostly needed to be alone for a while. When she came back, her red eyes were haunted and her clothes were smeared with ashes. I stood from the table, but she just dumped the groceries on the kitchen island and disappeared up the stairs. There were dark stains on her jeans.
“She’s not very fun to play with, is she?”
I looked over my shoulder at Sharon as I started to put everything away. “I think she’s just upset.”
Sharon turned her eyes back to the rather morbid drawing she was working on at the moment. “You should go talk to her.”
“I’m not sure she’d like that, honey.”
“I am.”
I turned to look at her fully, but her eyes never left her picture. “What else are you sure of, sweetie?”
“That you like her.” Sharon’s voice was as cheery and childish as always. I was getting used to the contrast.
I resolutely shut the refrigerator door behind me, pausing to study my daughter for a moment before heading up the stairs.
So I like her, huh?
“Can I come in?” When silence was the only response I opened the door to the guestroom and entered. Cybil had curled up against the headrest with her arms wrapped around one bent knee, staring straight ahead. I recalled the way she had looked the first time she was confronted with the monsters of Silent Hill, rage written over her face as she had tossed her smoldering helmet to the ground and fired shot after shot at the offending abomination. With those big eyes and that expressive mouth, she was so easy to read, like an open book. Right now, I read desolation.
With a soft “Hey.”, I sat down on the bed beside her, carefully placing a hand on her knee. The simple touch made my heart beat faster, and it surprised me. For a crazy person, I was normally very calm, but Cybil tended to make me nervous.
Nervous, or annoyed.
She finally met my gaze, attempting a smile before apparently giving it up and looking away again. “Where’s your ring?”
I tilted my head to the side, taking in her dirty shirt, and the way her tank top clinged to her -
“In a drawer.” I shrugged and removed my hand from her knee, but at the same time felt myself lean in closer, my side coming to rest lightly against her leg.
Cybil was quiet for a long moment, but then she raised a trembling hand to my face, touching my cheek very lightly. I closed my eyes, feeling heat rush to my face. “What happened to your husband?”
“That’s the wrong question.”
“What is the right question?”
“What happened to me?” I opened my eyes, giving her a small smile, and suddenly I wondered who was comforting whom.
She shifted on the bed, moving just a little closer to me, and I felt warm.
“Is there no way to get back?”
“I haven’t asked. I am not going back.” Cybil’s hand was resting lightly on my arm. She looked no less nervous now than before, but perhaps for another reason. I covered her hand with mine, squeezing it. “You should get to sleep. It’s late.”
“How do you know?” She frowned lightly, chewing on her lower lip.
“You start sensing it after a while.” I got up, feeling the loss of her closeness instantly.
She looked up at me with a tensed expression, and I quickly left the room before she could follow that line of thought any further.
Coward
--
That night, when Sharon was asleep and Cybil started crying out in her sleep, I returned to her room to sit by her bedside once more, watching her toss and turn in the large bed. When at last I lay a cool hand against her burning cheek, whispering words of comfort, I felt her stirring slightly. Completely paralyzed, I watched her hand covering mine, and I believe I didn’t move nor breathe until she fell back into deeper slumber again.
It was a curious thing, that something as trivial as sexuality should be puzzling me when I was stuck in a world with no sunlight, but it was. Sure, I’d been attracted to other women before, but this was very different. This one stirred something within me, made me feel like something was stretching.
I watched Cybil’s face in the faint light falling through the curtains. Maybe it was the short hair, or the uniform. Perhaps it was pure loneliness; the joy of being close to another adult again after all these weeks. Perhaps it was the Change.
I let my thumb trace the line of one dark eyebrow, longing to run my fingers through that messy hair. Cybil was here because she wanted to protect me. I didn’t deserve it.
Once more, I got back up on my feet, and again I felt the loss in my chest as I left the room.
--
Mornings were turning into the most normal part of the day, perhaps because both adult members of the household were too zombiefied to react to any other stimuli than the smell of coffee. I was sipping mine with both elbows firmly on the round table when I heard Cybil come down the stairs. She poured herself a cup before collapsing into an unoccupied chair opposite me, and we sat mostly in silence as Sharon explained the details of her new Lego project.
After breakfast, when Sharon burst towards the swings in the garden, I let my head fall to the tabletop with an audible groan. A low chuckle and a touch to my unruly hair made me blink and train my bleary-eyed gaze on Cybil. I found her smirking at me. I believe that’s the first time I had heard her laugh. “What’re you smiling about?”
She shrugged those broad shoulders of hers, the smirk not leaving her face. “You look like you’ve been unconscious for a week.”
I sighed and propped my head up with my hand. “At least two weeks.” I yawned, feeling a bit more alert as the coffee started to kick in, and pushed my bowl of cereal a couple of inches to the right. “Did you sleep alright?”
Cybil nodded and leaned back on her chair, a soft and uncertain look on her face. “I did…” She hesitated. “Thank you.”
I wet my dry lips with my tongue and opened my mouth to speak, but I could think of nothing to say.
--
The rest of the day passed in relative calmness. Cybil went with me on a walk to the canyon, and she didn’t shoot anything the whole time. Sharon helped me bake pancakes for dinner, and afterwards I curled up on my couch with a book as Cybil settled in the kitchen to clean her gun. She seemed much calmer now, but it was easy to notice that it only lasted as long as she didn’t think too hard on her surroundings. I closed my eyes and let my thoughts wander.
I awoke when the weight of my book was removed from my chest, blinking up at Cybil’s form. She gave me a small smile as she took my hand, helping me to my feet. “You shouldn’t sleep here. Upstairs is safer.”
I shook my head, yawning, but I nonetheless followed her up the stairs, pulling my cardigan closer around my body. “Where’s Sharon?”
“She’s already asleep. It’s late.” She stopped between the doors to our respective rooms, and I stepped close, gently putting my hand on her neck as I touched my lips to her cheek.
“Good night.”
I stayed close for just a few seconds longer before stepping back, smiling inwards at her dumbfounded expression as I entered my own room.
That night, there were no sounds coming from her room. I knew, because I spent most of it awake.