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1968
Death was a cunt. Absolutely horrid- an abomination of a thing. The worst fucking concept to ever be created. Nothing makes you feel worse than how it slithers its way around your heart and crushes it to nothing but broken stone.
Irina recognized it in the abundance of clouds. She stood beneath the grey sky, so light it was almost white. Like the light at the end of the tunnel.
Her husband reached to grab her hand but she swatted hers away. Gaia stood beside her with their hands laced together. The tiny family mourned alone. No priest came. Just an excruciating casket and a broken-hearted granddaughter.
Irina attempted to stand tall as she blinked at her enchanting grandmother once more. There it was, the blind, raging snake making its way around Irina's heart like a welcomed noose.
"My love," whispered her husband.
She hit the rough, soggy ground with the earthquake of a sob. Arms wrapped themselves around her in an instant. Cillian, her Cillian, is always there to fight the snake just for her. If only her heart could pulse for him today, speak its love words, write his name in romantic font on her bones.
But instead, she sat with muddy knees, and a wet, jade dress. Gaia was crying too. The raindrops fell as furious bullets, somehow soothing the hurt inside Irina.
"mne ochen' zhal'," begged Irina through wails. "mne ochen' zhal'" She didn't know if she spoke the words to herself or Karina Anna Smirnov.
The rain fell harder like pins, almost piercing through everyone's skin. The wind blew harsher, and somehow the forest-scented air became hotter.
A wave of tranquility coursing through her. "Cillian," she pulled away, cupping his face in her hands. "Stop, please stop."
His eyes scanned her face, every movement laced with worry. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I can't." He untangled himself from her. The pain and grievance drowned her, Cillian took the serenity with him.
Her veins flooded with something cold and fiery, her eyes burned, and her mouth only said one thing. I'm sorry.
She thought of her father and babushka. The broken-down house in Birmingham. Karina's laughs roared through the home. Her ability to make Irina feel so loved she could barely hold it. Her gentle touches and soft painted smiles.
Irina and her bundle of a family had visited Karina during the midwinter. Snow fell on top of the trees, but never flaked their ebony hair. Gaia held her hands up for the heavens, her fingertips pushing the compressed snow away. She floated in the pool while Irina swam her toes inside. The water was just right to make it feel like a warm bath.
Cillian had been helping Karina with some housework. Fixing the stubborn faucet, uncreaking a floorboard, rearranging the furniture. Irina sent him winks through the windows when they made eye contact. She couldn't drift away from her tall husband and his strong build. She missed his charming cobalt eyes and his rosy smiled lips she longed to kiss.
