Suspended in time
Date: June 1, 1998
Character(s): Lisa Turpin
Location: Turpin Residence, Westpoint Road, Thornaby-On-Tees, North Yorkshire
Status: Private
Summary: Lisa finally allows herself some news from the Wizarding world, and she learns of Justin's death.
Completion: Complete
Lisa crept downstairs into the dark kitchen to put a pot on. It was becoming a nightly activity. Her sleep was fitful and like a fever dream, wrought with a macabre mix of nightmarish images, joyous memories, and secret wishes. Her body was foreign to her, frail and achy, not the form of an athlete she once knew. And she still was unused to sleeping on a soft bed again.
She fumbled a bit in the dark, not as familiar with the space of her parents’ kitchen as she felt she should be. Still, she was reluctant to turn on the lights. Something about the darkness felt comforting. It was apropos, since she was in fact, in hiding.
Along with the rest of her family, she’d called it other names in the last two weeks - resting, recuperating, healing - but it was hiding, nonetheless. She didn’t want to delude herself that it wasn’t.
She’d intentionally refrained from seeking any Wizarding news, keeping herself on hold here in her family’s Muggle world instead. She knew why, of course. She was scared to death of what she might learn. It was easier to just stay…suspended.
She poured a cup and held it between her hands, enjoying the warmth (she still couldn’t get completely warm, it seemed) before treading carefully back up to her room.
She spared a sideways glance at the small pile of owls from various friends and housemates that were sitting, still sealed, on her desk. Her friends, who were likely as worried about her as she was for them.
The thought brought a rush of guilt.
The raw truth was that she hadn’t wanted to read any of them until she received the one she’d been waiting on. And after two weeks, she was growing more and more panicked that it wasn’t ever coming. But she rarely allowed herself to dwell on that possibility for long.
Either way, she knew she needed to send news that she was here, that she was alright. At least in some sense of the word.
Lisa set down her cup and lifted one of the envelopes from the pile at random; she wasn’t sure in which order they’d arrived.
Dear Lisa -
I hope this owl finds you. It’s been over a week since you’ve been home and still we’ve had no word from you. Are you alright? Are you planning to stay in York?
We’ve been so worried about you since we learned of Justin’s death. Have you spoken with his family at all? I thought perhaps you’d have attended the memorial.
Please owl and let us know you’re okay.
Much love,
Padma
Lisa’s chest tightened and she felt her knees give way as she crumpled to the floor, parchment in hand.
Stubborn seeds of irrational thoughts (it’s a mistake, Padma must mean someone else) fought their way desperately against the stream of acceptance she was already feeling in her heart.
She’d known, after all. If it weren’t true she’d have heard from him by now.
No tears came, even. Funny, that.
She couldn't feel anything at all. Only a sinking numbness accompanied by a wave of exhaustion. The sum total of all the missed sleep of the last two weeks overtook her until she couldn’t even form any more coherent thoughts, let alone answer or read more owls.
Abandoning her tea, she burrowed back under her blankets, seeking the sweet relief of unconsciousness, hoping to avoid having to think about anything more this night. If only sleep were to truly offer her a reprieve from knowing, and from feeling.
But she knew the pain would follow her there as well.