Living History

Remembrance

Panic shoots through my energy at her words, as if it's the first time my mind is really understanding them. No. I can't go home! No! I can't do this anymore!

Rhenyan takes a step toward me. "Xena, if you're going to trust anyone, you have to trust us. Now." He gestures back to Auroya. "If you can't convince her that what you're saying is true, we're taking you home."

Anger mixed with another pinch of panic shoots fresh through me. But as I look between his eyes, I feel something I haven't felt in many years. I feel my chest loosen and my mind relax a bit. I know my guard, and my mental barriers, are falling slowly. I haven't trusted anyone in years with anything, let alone something this big. But... I feel I can trust him. I have no reason why. I just do.

I won't let anything hurt you.

Rhenyan's voice in my mind startles me, and I immediately kick him out. He smiles slightly and tries again.

Show me what happened, Xena. We want to help you.

My eyes flick unwillingly to Auroya. She stares back stone-faced. I look back to Rhenyan's outstretched hand and white eyes. 

What more can I possibly lose? If this is what it takes to not go back home...

Taking a deep breath, I take his hand and feel his energy slip into my mind, over my memories, panic, and anxiety like a warm blanket.

After running my wagon to the backyard, I start to pile the brown paper bags up on the kitchen counter. There are 12 of them total. I begin to unpack their contents as Mother walks in. I suppress a sigh.

"Hello, Mother."

Her eyes widened for just a moment after she saw the bags. Then her expression turned to its usual ugly scowl.

"You're late again. And what's all this?"

"It's groceries, Mother."

"Of course it is. From your job, right? From your wages."

"Yes Mother."

She picks up a plastic bag holding a loaf of sourdough bread. "And I suppose these wages had nothing to do with that man who went inside today?"

Of course she knows. Why would she know?

"Partially."

"'Partially'. What does that mean, daughter?"

"It means it's partially from him, yes."

She shrieks, her fist clenching and smashing the bread. "I knew it! I knew your job wasn't real! I knew-"

"He came from the bar. He was ordering for a birthday party." 

She stares at me. "Excuse me?"

"He came in to order four dozen assorted donuts for the owner's birthday. He paid with a black MasterCard, gave me a 40 in klein, then left." I shrug as if this whole conversation wasn't making my chest burn. "So I decided to use the money for food for us."

She sneered at me. "I'm sure that's exactly how it went."

"It is."

She dropped the bread she crushed on the table like it was poisoned. "You never used to be like this. What happened?"

Exasperation threatened to smash the bag of fruit I was picking up, but I took a deep breath.

"Like what? I'm bringing home food for my family. What's wrong with that?"