From The Ashes 7/15
Title: From The Ashes
Pairing: Ultimately: Maureen/Cynthia.
Summary: After an unspeakable tragedy leaves her a young widow, Maureen works to re-build her life out of the shadow of her late husband, with the help of friends, family, and especially Cynthia.
Warnings: Major character death, self-harm and suicide, addiction, depictions of blood (later chapters).
Rating: R for subject matter.
A/N: Thank you once again for your patience. Christmas - or rather the build up to it- sort of became more hectic than I thought it would. Plus it's hard to write this kind of dramatic story while celebrating the holidays. ALSO, we are now more or less half way through the whole thing. The next chapter will be the half-way point for this 'act'.
Anyway, onward...
Chapter 7: Come Back And Haunt Me
***
“We’re getting on as well as can be expected, better in some cases.Tiger’s hair has even grown back in nicely” Maureen answers her mother in between bites of homemade shortbread, phone cradled between shoulder and ear. Maureen had been looking forward to a bit of time to herself before her Friday class but that had been interrupted by a phone call from her mother.
“No...not really, no. Some curious people here and there, but since the door to the garage was fixed, not as bad. Novelty’s worn off some, I think….what? I’m doin’ well, I guess. Takin’ to hairdressing again like it were second nature...oh, you didn’t mean just that did you? I’m doing okay. ‘Course I miss ‘im and sometimes, when left to me own too long I get a bit down about it but in truth I’ve been busy. Keeping busy with school and a third boy and running a household like this , I don’t have much time by meself really….No, I’ve not gone to Mass, Mum...look Mum, I’ve gotta go, Zak’s up, I can hear him scamperin’ ‘bout upstairs and Julian’s due home soon, and Jason will be horrid to get down tonight if I don’t get him up . I’ll be sure to visit soon, the half-term hols are comin’ up, it’ll be easier to get out to see you. I know, I know, Wavertree’s not that far from you, but plannin’ and jugglin’ is not as easy as I’d like it be. I’m nearly at my licensing exam and can get me own chair….Mum, I’ve got to go...I’ll call you next week. I love you very much.” Maureen hangs up the phone before her mother can get another reminder that ‘I haven’t seen you since you moved back’.
Catholic guilt always was Florence Cox’s specialty.
But Maureen doesn’t have a moment to dwell on that. She really does have to go get the boys up from their naps, and prepare a snack for Julian and get a few chores done before Cynthia got home for dinner and to take over the sentry post so Maureen could go to her classes. She picks up her tea from the table and sighs when she realizes it’s gone cold. She flicks her glance up to the clock and can’t stop a grunt of annoyance upon realizing she’s been on the phone with her mother nearly an hour. Taking a deep breath and steeling herself for the daunting task of wrangling the boys while trying to give the small house a speed dusting, she tosses the remaining shortbread to Tiger, who has been eyeing her expectantly the whole time, and puts on her best ‘Mummy’ smile before heading up the stairs to the boys bedroom.
***
“Honey, I’m home!” Cynthia jokingly calls, though it comes out mumbled as she tries to speak around keys, her hands full with bags of take-away.
Maureen steps into the front room, undoing the scarf from around her hair, draping it over the nearby sofa and tossing the dust rag into the small bin designated for that purpose. Her eyes widen when she sees the bags that Cynthia is carrying and she rushes forward to take a bag. “What on earth…?” She trails off with a smile.
“You’ve been working so hard, preparing for your exam. I thought a night of no cooking before class would be nice.” Cynthia lays her purse on the sofa and heads back toward the kitchen with Maureen right behind her. “There is this lovely little Indian take-away place near my school. I thought it might be nice to bring some home.” She takes a moment to set the bag she is carrying down on the counter.
“Such a treat. Thank you so much.” Maureen smiles, setting her bag down and starting to unpack the containers. “Smells amazing.”
“Hopefully it tastes the same. I’ve heard raving from my coworkers what go there.” Cynthia unpacks the remaining containers and starts to set the table.
All three boys pick that moment to come bounding through the house to the kitchen. Over their heads, Cynthia meets Maureen’s eyes and looks at her younger friend with a look of amazement at their energy before kneeling down to scoop up Julian. The boys squirms a bit, but eventually melts to his mother’s embrace.
Maureen nods as Jason grabs her leg as tight as his little hands can. Then, out of the blue, Zak goes to hug Cynthia around the calf.
“That’s my Mum!” Julian protests from his perch.
“Well yes, I am, Julian, but it’s okay if Zak hugs me. You can hug Maureen too. We’re all one family here.” Cynthia soothes her boy before setting him down on the ground and scooping up Zak.
Julian stands back, contemplating this revelation. “With two Mums? And no Dad?”
“Yes. It’s not a normal turn of things but it works well. A family is people who care for each other. I care for me boys, but I care for you too, Julian.” Maureen kneels down, getting on Julian’s level. “I think it works nicely, don’t you?”
“I suppose. I’m hungry, can we eat?” Julian asks, his question hanging out in the air for whichever adult wants to answer.
Maureen barely stifles a laugh. “Of course. Zak it’s your turn to get the silverware out for everyone.”
Zak nods and with Cynthia’s help with the knives, the table is set completely. Curious how the boys will like the curry and rice and wonderfully spiced Indian dishes, Maureen quickly makes a few jam butties and crisps for her two. Julian, intent on being ‘grown-up’ insists on a plate of his own.
“We’ll let him try some of the milder stuff. I don’t see harm.. If he ends up wanting a jam butty I’ll get him one.” Cynthia says as she makes a plate for herself and one for her son. Maureen sets the boys’ food in front of them and then makes herself a plate of curry and rice along with a bit of Tandoori chicken before finally settling down.
When all of them are seated and eating (well, Julian takes a bite and then chases the rest around his plate, clearly waiting for an opportunity to ask for a jam butty and crisps) it seems as if things are going to be still for the evening. Maureen relaxes visably. Sometimes tea takes on an atmosphere of an odd version of University Challenge with the three boys asking all the questions they can come up with to the two women but tonight it seems like it’s to be peaceful. Normal questions about what each boy did are asked and answered, Cynthia and Maureen chat back and forth. Nice and peaceful.
Perhaps because this peacefulness has lured Maureen to a sense of security, she doesn’t notice the slightly confused look on Zak’s face. Until he speaks up.
“Where are the beans, Mummy?” He asks, little face contorted in confusion as he scans the table for the missing legumes.
“Beans?” Maureen asks, putting down her fork.
“Yeah. When you have spicy things Daddy always had beans ‘cause he can’t eat spicy stuff.”
Maureen swallows hard. “Yes we...we did. But... “ She trails off and takes a deep breath before continuing. “...we talked about this, lovey. Things are different. Daddy’s not here anymore. He’s not coming back. He’s in Heaven with the Angels.” She presses her lips together, keeping her emotions in check.
“Oh.” Zak answers solemnly. “Okay.” He looks like he wants to ask more questions but he refrains.
Dinner is finished in silence, only occasionally broken by Cynthia trying to get conversation going again but she soon gives up. As awkward as the silence is, she realizes quickly that perhaps it’s best to let Maureen be with her thoughts. . The elder woman does try to quietly nudge the younger toward eating a little bit before classes but when Julian finally asks to be excused, without so much as a whinge for dessert, breaking the awkwardness a bit, Maureen’s plate still is nearly untouched.
“I’ll get the dishes, Mo. I know you have a bus to catch.” Cynthia offers an out.
“Thanks. Yeah, I should get going. You know how it is with those buses. Wait ages for them then two come along, right?” Maureen laughs a hollow sounding laugh as she gets up from the table, silently scraping her nearly untouched plate into the bin beside the sink before placing said plate in the sink and silently getting ready for her classes.
***
It’s a relief to make herself busy, working with her hands and making the banal small talk that hairdressing requires. It’s two weeks before the practical exam and each student is practicing on another one, a complete haircut, color, or other styling . She concentrates for a moment on the layer she’s snipping, finishing up her classmate-turned-client rather quickly. She dries the young girl’s hair while listening to the end of the tale of an ‘ex-bessie mate’ who ‘got with me fella’ shouted over the roar of the hair-dryer. Maureen nods as appropriate before turning of the dryer. “What do you think?”
The girl (she really can barely be 17, Maureen assumes) grins. “You’ve a natural talent for this, you do.”
“Ta. Truth told I was once in this line but I got married and had to get out of it before I had me own chair. Still doin’ apprentice work and had to leave.” Maureen makes the final touches and removes the cape.
“Why’d you come back to it?” The girl - Abigail, maybe, her name is, Maureen’s never bothered to get too friendly- asks as innocent as she can be.
Amazed that a girl this age doesn’t know her late husband and of his sudden end, Maureen picks up the broom and starts to sweep. “I’m recently widowed. Came back home. Needed me own income.”
“Oh…” The girl turns bright red. “Erm...do you need help sweepin’ up?”
“No, ta. Go on, get home. I’m nearly done, ready to get back to me boys.” Maureen smiles to show no hard feelings between them.
The girl does just that, muttering to herself, still clearly embarrassed.
Maureen finishes sweeping, dumps the pan of hair into the bin, and takes the cape back to the laundry. On her way back to check in with the teacher, she cuts through the sinks. One of her classmates is doing the color for another girl and is in the process of rinsing it out. For whatever reason this is the first time Maureen has noticed that this classmate has elected a bright red color. As the excess is rinsed out, it’s even more red. Especially against the white porcelain.
It’s nearly blood red.
Maureen feels her chest tighten, her breath catching. Her legs feel like lead but she makes her way to a nearby chair and sinks down into it, staring unseeing into the mirror. All she can see is red on white. Blood red on white. Blood red. So much blood. It won’t leave her mind. She wants to scream, the vision is so stark in her memory, but she can’t catch a proper breath. She’s completely unaware of her surroundings.
All she’s aware of is RED.
It’s in this state that a concerned Cynthia finds Maureen after the teacher finally phones after all the other students have left.
“Maureen?” Cynthia gently whispers, lightly tapping the younger woman on the forearm.
“So much red. So much blood.” Maureen croaks.
“Love, you’re not there anymore. Come back, sweetness.” Cynthia coos. “Come ‘ead, come back to us, yeah?” She gently rubs the younger woman’s forearm and repeats the same general soothing statements until it finally seems to get through.
Maureen blinks several times and draws a breath like she’s been drowning. “What…?” She trails off, unable to really form any sentences, her mind feels absolutely blank.
“We’ll talk about it all in the morning. Let’s get you back home, into bed. The older lady next door came to watch the boys for us. We’ll get you in bed, get you nice cuppa. Just let’s get you home and warm.” Cynthia somehow manages to keep the worry out of her voice. She grips Maureen’s hand tightly. “You’re safe, love.” She helps the younger woman to her feet and lets Maureen lean on her as they make their way out of the door. “You’re safe now, I promise.”