Looking For Hope

Bonus Content: Death Day Anniversary

Moira frowned at the calendar invite she just received from her cousin. The invitation was for the second day of April, roughly a week and a half away. After marking the "maybe" option on the automatic responder, the teenage girl slammed her phone hard on her study table. The sound startled one of her roommates, who was working on an assignment due later this evening.

"Why the sudden anger?" Nardhia came over to Moira's side of the room. "Don't tell me my twin is being his usual stupid self. I'll go talk to him if he pulls one of his antics."

"Nah, Nardho and I are fine," the phone slammer waved her hand dismissively. "It's Neesa. She sent a reminder for a virtual family meeting. It's something to do with my late parents."

Nardhia's mouth hang open at the mention of late parents. "Hold up," she said, "I know that you live with your aunt and uncle's family, but I never knew you are an orphan. I'm sorry."

"Don't be," her friend quickly replied. "It was a long time ago. I don't even remember my mom and dad. I mean, I have their pictures but since they died when I was a baby I have zero memory of them. Everything I know about mom and dad are hearsays."

"Hearsays?" Nardhia raised an eyebrow. "Like, gossips and rumors?"

"Not exactly," Moira folded her arms on the table and put her head down. "On my twelfth birthday, Neesa and I played hide and seek. I was hiding in my aunt's walk-in closet when I found a box. What was inside that box changed me forever."

"Oh," Nardhia gave her a side hug. "I don't want to pry, but may I ask what was in the box?"

"Paper—mostly torn pages from what seemed to be my aunt's diary, a transcript of her texts with someone whose name I didn't recognize, and print-outs of a forum post with thousands of nasty comments," Moira winced. "As it turned out, my parents were involved in some social movement when they were our age. They were university students, like us, they even were also enrolled in Blue Orchid, but then they ditched college to be radical rebels. "

"Radical how?" Nardhia now sat on Moira's bed. "As radical as challenging the government?"

"They were involved in protesting the illegal discrimination of the disabled community on the Black Elm-controlled regions of Silver Pine. It was an important cause for them. They, too, had a disability. Both of my parents had spina bifida, Dhia, and they were vocal about disability rights."

"Wow," Nardhia's eyes grew bigger. "Sounds like your parents were as badass and rebellious as their daughter! I don't want to overstep any line, but if you don't mind me guessing, did they get killed in a bloody riot? They went protesting, correct?"

"From what I gathered, they did go to protests," Moira nodded. "But they didn't die on the street as protestors. They died in prison but they never had any proper funeral."

"They were prisoners?!" Nardhia gasped. "But I thought everyone was entitled to freedom of speech. Wait, this was before you were born, right? So, sometime around 2608 or even earlier?"

"Precisely. Although there were some progressive improvements since the first Disability Rights Revolution, like the gradual acceptance of disabled individuals on Red Sycamore and White Banyan, some conservative groups were still intolerant of non-able-bodied members of society. Don't even get me started on the corrupt government back in the 2605-2610 era."

"That's awful!" Nardhia exclaimed. "But anyway, have you ever confronted your aunt for keeping all this information a secret from you?"

"I did confront her," Moira trembled and her voice turned into a whisper. "She said she was waiting until I was old enough to tell me the truth but seeing how I already learned it on my own she just apologized and explained the rest of the story," a drop of tear stained Moira's cheek. "The forum post I read was a post my aunt made on her social media account to shed light on the events surrounding the brutality with which disability right activists were treated in jail. The post blew up and my aunt received a lot of hate for exposing the ugly truth. Her diary entries were the only safe place for her to release her pent up frustration."

"Moira, you don't have to keep telling me the story if it makes you uncomfortable," Nardhia pulled the crying girl into a tight embrace. "I understand."

"N-no, you're my closest friend and I do w-want to share this with you," Moira said in between hiccups. "T-there's more to it. So, remember me m-mentioning I also saw texts b-between a stranger and my aunt? Well, after hearing my aunt's explanation I realized it was no stranger. It was my dad using a code name and delivering the news that my mom died in childbirth and that he himself was in poor health so if anything were to happen he wanted my aunt to adopt me."

"I have no idea your family has a dark past," Nardhia muttered. "Thank you for sharing."

"Dhia, would you like to join me in the annual commemoration of my parents' death?" Moira asked once she stopped sobbing. "That was what Neesa was reminding me about. Actually, I was thinking of also inviting Nardho, Rain, Vannie, and Tony."

"I would be honored to be an attendee," Moira's best friend smiled. "Is there anything I have to do in preparation? Is it a solemn occasion or more of a celebration of life type of stuff?"

"It's nothing fancy. This year we're doing it over video call. Usually, though, my family light candles and my aunt read a eulogy. Neesa and I have a tradition of harvesting the marigolds from our garden and putting it in front of my parents' photos."

"That's beautiful. I suppose marigolds are native to your home planet? Marigolds might be harder to find on this planet," Nardhia said, "but I'm sure I can talk to Kenta and see if he knows of any other flowers with similar shape and color."

"You're too kind," Moira murmured. "It's okay, you don't have to bring any offering."

"I want to pay my respect to your parents," Nardhia replied. "I can't imagine what it must be like, dedicating their lives for a cause they strongly believed in only to end up incarcerated."

"If I were them, I would've done the same," Moira said with fire in her eyes. "I wouldn't do nothing while injustice prevails," she added. "Thanks again for listening, Dhia."

"That's what friends are for. Thank you for trusting me with this highly personal story."