Power and Lies

Ten

"I know that in life there will be sickness, devastation, disappointments, heartache - it's a given. What's not a given is the way you choose to get through it all. If you look hard enough, you can always find the bright side."
-Rashida Jones

The meadow laid out in front of Freya full of wildflowers and tall grass- the meadow from her childhood. But Freya was no longer a child, and the large house she grew up in looked different, dilapidated and coming undone under its own weight. Her fingers traced the grass blades and she walked forward towards the pond she knew would be in the center of it, its murky waters full of fish and frogs. How often she would steal away to sit by the waters and dream they were the ocean and she was about to cross before her father caught her and cast her back inside.

There was a figure sitting by the bank, a woman, Freya realized. Grandmother her mind seemed to scream, recognizing the warmth emanating from her. Her grandmother had died when she was young, far too young to remember her face or laugh, but she did remember her warm presence. She would play with her as the sun went down before Freya was forced into nightclothes and off to her bed. She was fun, and love, and everything Freya always wanted her own mother to be.

"Grandmother Marie," She called out to her gleefully. Her grandmother did not turn to her, but patted the small bit of grass before the water for Freya to sit. How many days she had envisioned herself sitting on the banks swapping stories of growing up with her dear grandmother before she passed. Once she left, she took the light, and left everything hollow.

Her dress flitted out around her as she sank down to her knees next to her grandmother, unable to take her eyes off of her face. It was more beautiful than the fleeting memories she had allowed her to picture. Her nose was sharp, and cheeks rosy. Her eyes were nearly white they were so blue and Freya felt a bit of sadness within her that she did not have her grandmother's features. She had taken far more after her father's side. Her grandmother tucked a piece of flaxen hair behind her ear and smiled at her.

"I have missed you," Freya rushed out, tears springing to her eyes. She had always wished when she died it would be her grandmother who met her. But she did not think she was dead. At least not yet.

"No, not yet." It was as though her grandmother could read her thoughts, or the anxiety rippling under her skin. "You have a choice to make."

"I'm confused," She admitted, the peace of the meadow making way for unease within its walls.

"Stay here with me, or go back with them. Maybe it is your time, or maybe it is not." It was not a riddle, but it felt like one, it picked at Freya's thoughts. What was there for her back there? She was not an openly good person, she had little remorse for her seekage of power, or her committed sins. Would she be allowed into heaven with her grandmother? Or would she wear her sins like chains for eternity, holding her in the fire and brimstone promised by holy men?

"What is for me there?"

Finally her grandmother turned to face her, pausing momentarily to place her hand on her granddaughters. "Your soul is uneasy, Freya. Rest it if you'd like. Paradise takes all. That is what is for you here. For you there, is up to you. My dear it is all up to you. You always were such a curious child, but so terribly afraid." Freya did not remember fear in her early years, but she knew her grandmother spoke the truth. Even now she was afraid. She was afraid to live and afraid to die.

"Who would miss you?" The question hit Freya like a rock. Who would miss her? John would miss her, and Arthur, even Polly. Maybe even Ada, who only spoke to her when her boyfriend was far away. And Tommy, maybe Tommy would miss her. And she would miss him. If she left him, would she be able to visit him, roll her phantom fingers over his cheekbones as he slept? She could chase the ghosts that plagued him, and keep his heart clear. Would that be enough? No, she decided, it would not be.