Maeve fidgeted in her chair as she tucked and then untucked her hair from behind her ears, glancing around the room. It was bright, sunny, and slightly noisy as other patients met with their guests.
Every Saturday was family day, though her mother's doctor told Maeve she could come by during the week if she made an appointment. So far she hadn't been by, saying it was so her mother had time to adjust without any distractions. But really it was more so Maeve could adjust to her new life before she allowed her mother to play a more active role.
Her mother's doctor had still given Maeve updates, assuring her that things were progressing well. Her mother was settling in, talking in group sessions, making friends with some of the other patients.
While Maeve was happy to hear her doing so well, she wasn't holding her breath.
She had heard it all before. Every doctor had their own diagnosis for her mother and assured Maeve that she would be functional and able to live on her own in due time. That they could find a good treatment plan. And each time it would work for a bit. And then it stopped working, and Marianne Byrne was right back where she started.
Of course, now Maeve knew why.
"Here we are, Ms. Byrne."
Maeve looked over, holding her breath as her mother was led over by a nurse to the table where she was sitting.
Marianne had always been beautiful. Loved beautiful things and old Hollywood. Before she got pregnant with Maeve, she had been studying dance and theater at the local university and was destined to take the stage by storm, at least according to herself. She would regale Maeve with stories when she was a little girl about all the plays and musicals she had done in school. How agents were looking into her already even when she was just a fresh-faced freshman at university.
It was strange to Maeve. She had had such big dreams. And then they all disappeared after that week Marianne spent with her father. She had gone from chasing down auditions to chasing down his spector.
Regardless, Marianne never left the house without a full face of makeup and her hair perfectly styled - even during her bad spells. It was how they often fooled the social workers and everyone that things were fine. Maeve got most of her looks from her mother - her dark, wavy hair; clear, pale skin; lithe figure. Even if she never made it as a Broadway star, Marianne did her best to look the part, often walking around as though she were already famous. Most of the time, she managed to get food on the table, but whatever extra money she got her hands on, Maeve was certain Marianne spent on shoes, dresses, and makeup.
Which is why it was a shock for Maeve to see her now. Marianne was dressed in a plain pair of cotton pajamas and a robe, something she would never wear in the past - especially in public. Her dark hair was streaked with gray and pulled into a loose braid that fell over her shoulder. There was no makeup to be seen on her face, causing her to look closer to her actual age of 41. Maeve didn't remember her mother having nearly so many wrinkles.
But her deep blue eyes still held a youthful glint to them. And her lips - void of her signature red lipstick - were stretched into a brilliant smile.
"Hey, Mom," Maeve said, smiling at her as she stood.
Marianne pulled her into a hug, holding her daughter tightly. She then let her go and waved off the nurse without taking her eyes off Maeve. The two sat and she reached over, enveloping Maeve's hands with her own as she squeezed them hard.
"It's so good to see you, my darling," she said breathlessly. "I wish they'd let me call more often in this damn place. Hearing your voice is like a balm to my soul."
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Embracing the Dark
Fanfiction(Wicked Lovely Fanfic) Maeve Byrne has always known she wasn't completely human. It's the reason she could always see the faeries that inhabited Huntsdale. But she's also never told a soul what she was or what she could see. Her mother, for all her...
