Stolen Voices ✓

December 15th

The cabin wasn't that extensive, just two bedrooms, a master bedroom on the main level, and a guest room in the basement. The old kitchen cabinets had mud on the lower levels, where animals dug holes through the structure, oily fingerprints found near the handles. Connected to the living room that contained antique everything, from the traditional wicker chest in the corner to the box television on the opposite end.

His father had fixed up the place in more recent years, less of a venture hazard. They would come here every Christmas before Elias pulled himself away from the family and life. The realistic-looking tree is still placed in the living room, its bright sappy branches already decorated with ornaments and lights.

Walking through the old white door, they stomp their snow-covered boots on the brown welcome mat, some of its flakes falling onto the laminate floors of the kitchen. The arctic air from outside follows a second later, their entourage. Elias flings the door shut and drops their bags on the floor, huffing a breath.

"Is that you?" Mara snickers, walking into the living room and instantly turning on the gas fireplace to warm the place. Her hands reach for a framed picture on the mantle, a one-year-old Elias dressed in denim overalls, his thick brown hair curling at his ears. He is beaming, his chubby fingers reaching for the camera.

"You were adorable," she prattles, glancing over her shoulder at him, a smirk falls on her lips. He steps up behind her, his hands falling to her hips as he presses his chest against her back, kissing the peak of her shoulder.

"I was a horrible kid," he chuckles, shaking his head as he picks up another photo, around eight in it. "I was always in trouble, I remember my old friend Tyler and I used to ride dirt bikes in the streets until the neighbors yelled at us to get out. Something about too much noise or whatever."

"That doesn't sound that bad," Mara grins, tracing the outline of a young Elias standing next to a boy with bright red hair and freckles dotting across his nose. They are beaming, his hand thrown over his shoulder, a destroyed bike proudly behind them.

"So we rode dirt bikes in their grass and destroyed their precious lawn," Elias grunts, finishing out the memory. He can still remember the way Mr. Angus had disparaged him, his pudgy cheeks turning brilliant red, his nose flaring. If he were a cartoon character, comical wind would have billowed out of his ears and nose. They never heard the end of his enraged lecture.

"I caught my sister sneaking out to see her boyfriend when I was seven," Mara adds to the conversation, a smile falling on her lips. "I blackmailed her into being my assistant for a month, doing all my chores and stuff. I told my mom not a day later."

They fall onto the couch, enveloping a thin knit blanket around themselves as they share stories of their childhood when everything seemed ingenious. Back when right and wrong were drawn lines, before you had to decide for yourself if the gamble is worth it. When jumping off a cliff seemed occult, not near-fatal because children aren't afraid of dying. Not unless written the wrong way by wayward parents, who scribe into their minds hateful thoughts.

Children are virtuous minds whose antics are derived from impulsivity and don't follow the social norms of what's satisfactory. They go for what's entertaining, whether it fits the idea of who they are supposed to be or not.

"I once drove a teacher into retirement," Mara snickers, recalling the time she'd drowned herself in plaid uniform, "Mrs. Blackwell. I will never forget the way she sneered the second I walked through that door. Private schools a bitch, I tell you."

"Joey Tesch in our school had some sort of sleeping disorder, I think he made it up, but he would always fall asleep in class. So we had a sub one day, and nobody told him about Joey. He had a panic attack because he thought he was dead," Elias counters with the memories of public school

"Do you want kids?" Mara investigates, her head resting on his shoulder as she flicks on the television, scrolling through stations, the sound muted. She avoids his eyes at the simple question that feels much more weighted, watching the screen unfold before her, gazing through it. Listening to his steady heartbeat against her ear.

Children are more than just a fling, more than just a college relationship meant to go nowhere. The concept of a future with Elias sounds promising, and she can visualize herself in it, that normalcy. It is the thought of losing it all that terrifies her. The idea of letting a piece of herself believe that future and watching it be whisked away by the crude times.

"I never thought about it," Elias shrugs, running his hands up and down her arms in a steady movement, "but it doesn't turn me off the idea of children. What about you? Do you want the sticky fingers and tantrums?"

"I didn't, not even when I was little," she shakes her head, "I was always afraid I would resent my kid the way my mom disliked me. And what happens when I have another episode and spiral. I wouldn't want to put a kid through that."

"I think you would be a great mother, Mara," he counters, tilting her chin up to look at him. Her steel-blue eyes, piercing into him as he swallows the lump forming in his throat. "Your child would love you, all of you. I do, your friends do."

"Are you trying to tell me something, Eli?" She ridicules, poking his chest. Trying to break the tension that surrounds them.

"Well-" he hesitates, his words faltering at the look she gives him, that look of devotion. It seems redundant to break that with the news that he will be moving across the country. He can't lose her, can't lose this feeling. Not for the few weeks before they have to go back, so he bites his tongue, holding back his words and hiding behind a simper.

"Hmm," she hums, glancing back at the TV with a smile, watching as a woman walks down the aisle, escorted by her husband, imaging herself downed in white.

"Nothing, babe," he shakes his head, "just want to tell you I love you."

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Authors Note:

You think he should tell her?

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- Nia

Edited 4/13/22