Betrayal, Secrets & Love

Welcome Home

***

When she awoke, her mother, Sheila, entered her vision. Shadows clamped around her mother's oval face but did nothing to hide the pained sadness in her jade irises. Pink puffy tissue on her cheekbones were evident, retelling the tale of the tears she cried. Dark brown hair, tied back in a messy ponytail and azure button shirt with a seemingly number of creases, told Milira that like herself, her mother didn't feel the need to bother with appearances. She dressed and acted as jagged as she felt. But even in her mother's heartbreak there was beauty. At no older than thirty-eight, Sheila upheld a modelled body, and raised Milira single-handed since she was born. There were no stress lines marking her skin, only the happy lines of laughter.

Sheila, named after Milira's grandmother, wasn't always the mother of the year but when she got pregnant at sixteen it was her brother and Milira's uncle who rescued his little sister. Milira loved the story and knew by heart. So many reminders of everything and anything about Alexander popped up and though it hurt to know he was gone, she clung to it, afraid if she didn't, the memories she cherished about Alexander could get lost. But even as Milira bit back the tears she knew her mother experienced the hurt ten times worse. Sheila lost more than a brother, she lost a pillar of strength and her big hero.

In Milira's pain, negativity started to rear its head. She became hateful for not calling her uncle more, hateful for the little things she should have done. And even hateful she was stuck with her father's appearance instead of her uncle's. She displayed none of the attributes of the Darken family. None of which to remind her of Alexander. Shorter than her mother, with not an inch of the killer long legs her mother possessed or the thin waist. Did her mother find it painful to look at her when she appeared to be nothing but an image of an absent father? Would her mother cope without the support of her uncle? Would she be able to hold onto her small, but comfortable life? What happened now? How did Milira herself go forward? The thoughts kept piling up, drowning her in a sea of panic and sadness. She felt lost and empty. All the bad and the ugly of her life spinning in her mind on replay.

She righted herself and Sheila moved to take a seat next to her. Together they sat in silence and watched the blood-orange sun set behind the rolling fields and airfield buildings. What would her uncle do in this situation? He'd be strong, and keep calm. The answer appeared naturally. She took a deep breath, straightened her back and mentally conjured an image of her uncle dealing with chaos situations. She needed to do the same, even if she acted, for her mother, for herself. Closure still remain a distant topic but she wanted to hold onto more of her uncle and saw only one way to do so.

"Mom." she started, but for a second, her dry throat didn't want to speak. Instead she allowed herself a few extra moments of silence and turned to take her mother's hands in hers, giving them a gentle squeeze. "Has the package arrived?" she asked, thankful her throat formed the words and made them sound calm, even if she detected a bit of robotics them.

Sheila stood up, drifting around the office chewing on her thumbnail. A nervous habit Milira thankfully didn't pick up. She tried following her mother by standing up but winced at the pain of her headache and fell back choosing to wait for her mother's reply.

"It did." Sheila said a few second later, and moved over to Drake's desk and picked up an envelope. "I opened it while you were asleep. You leave in two hours." she stated, not looking at Milira, and continued to chew on her thumbnail. Another wave of fat tears appeared on Sheila's auburn eyelashes. Her free hand threw the envelope down and began fiddling with a loose string on her Levi's jeans.

"Sweetheart," Sheila took a tentative step closer to her, "I'm afraid you'll be going alone." her voice grew hoarse as she hiccupped among the free-flowing tears. To see her mother's raw pain awoke her own. Her lip quivered and her mother inhaled. "I need time. I'm not ready yet to see a home without him in it. I'll be flying down with your aunt Alice, who will help us proceed with," she choked on her sorrow, "The fun-eral arrangements."