Bubbles

Chapter 37

A funeral was held for Kula a week later.

Nalia wore a gown. It wasn't her style, but it felt right. The collar went up her neck in thick black lace, and the dress was simple and elegant. She wanted a little stability right then.

She was heartbroken, of course. Her soul seemed heavy with tears, as if her very being wept for Kula.

God, Kula. Nalia was a gifted writer, but she would never accurately be able to describe how deeply she missed her sweet, kind, gentle, funny, innocent, quirky, loyal, understanding (almost to a fault) girlfriend. She felt as though there was a thick nothing inside her where Kula used to be. A gray, wet fog that lay cold and painful in her mind. She was damaged, deeply so.

But she didn't let herself get dragged down. Kula had died to save her. If she used the rest of her life crying, that sacrifice would mean nothing. So she kept living.

Her hair was in a tight bun. Her face was drawn and distant. She barely recognized herself. But that felt right, too – she had lost something important, and she almost wanted it to show.

The funeral was brief and sweet, as Nalia had requested. Brendan made a speech about his friendship with the girl (during which Nalia cried like a baby), a few customary funeral rites were completed, and then it was Nalia's turn.

She took a deep breath and stepped onto the stage. "Hi." She winced a little. Too casual. Kula would've approved. "As you may know, Kula and I were good friends. Really, that doesn't explain our relationship well enough at all, but I don't think there's a good word to describe what Kula was to me, so you're going to have to be satisfied with that." The words were clunky and awkward, but she needed to say them. It was the closest she'd ever get to telling the truth about what the girl had meant to Nalia. "When I met Kula, I thought I knew what friendship was. I thought I was prepared for love, for companionship. But I was wrong. Really, really wrong."

"Shocker!" Brendan called from the audience, eliciting a ripple of laughter. Nalia smiled a little – she was deeply out of practice, but she managed.

"Yes, it's true, I make mistakes. I never thought I'd see the day, but, what do you know, Bren, dreams do come true after all." Another wave of laughter. "The point," she continued, "is that Kula taught me all that. She taught me how to be strong, and when it was okay to be a little weak. She taught me how to live for a smile and how to learn from tears. She taught me who I was, who she was, and who we were. She helped me reconnect with my brother after years of silence. I don't know if angels exist or not, but... Kula was special, I know that." She inhaled shakily. "She had a lot to learn, too – I taught her to speak Common, to understand things that I always thought of as simple, and so much more. I like to think that I was her favorite. Sorry, Brendan." Cue the laughs. Cue the stretched face muscles. "Kula was my angel. My friend. My... my soulmate in so, so many ways." She was on thin ice, but she wanted the word out, because it was true. "And I am so grateful to have had her in my life. Thank you." Nalia moved to step off the podium- and froze.

That was pretty sweet, but you missed a couple things.

"What?" Nervous laughter from the crowd. No one had heard the words. Nalia forced herself to sit down and act natural.

You didn't really give them enough of the funny misadventures. The hideout in the library, maybe.I bet they would have liked it. At least Brendan had the sense to mention tree gnomes in his speech. The voice was warm, tinged with a smile. She was teasing Nalia.

"Kula?" Nalia's voice was barely above a whisper. No one could hear her.

Told you I'd never leave you, Lia.

Smiling didn't feel so bad anymore.

The weeks drifted into months, and the months into years. Eventually, the king died, and Nalia and Brendan rose to power. They ruled fairly, side by side, for the rest of their days. Neither ever married another person. Eventually, of course, whispers spread of the possibility of an incestuous relationship between the siblings, but it was all hogwash. Nalia had her love, and Brendan never wanted one.

Nalia rarely heard Kula in those years – it seemed that she could only come to her from time to time. That was okay with Nalia, though. She never felt alone. She would talk to Kula about her life, and she hoped that Kula heard. The world was convinced that the young queen was driven mad by grief, but Nalia and Brendan knew better.

Brendan died an old man. He died peacefully, but it still clawed at Nalia's heart. She knew that her time was fast approaching.

One night, the queen went to sleep, and never woke up.

------

Nalia opened her eyes. She felt more powerful, stronger. She looked down and saw that she was young again – nineteen. The age she'd met Kula. Her heart twisted a little at that, but she shook it off. That was an old pain, one that she had learned to make peace with.

Nalia focused on her surroundings. She was dead, she knew that. But where was she?

She walked through a flat, gray, misty plain, eyes adjusting to the dark. She let her feet carry her over slight hills, through paths, and to a forest. She pushed through the trees, and was greeted by a cottage. It was simple, the colors warm and muted. Somehow, it felt like home.

Almost dreamlike, Nalia stepped over the cobblestone path and into the garden. Ghostly white flowers grew in the grass, but otherwise it was bare. She'd have to fix that later. Absently, she wondered if there were flower shops in the afterlife – for surely that was what this was.

She walked into the house. It was simple – only the bare necessities – but Nalia liked it. It was sweet, and sort of comforting. She could stay here, if that was what she was meant to do.

She sat down, letting her eyes search the room. It was strange – nothing seemed concrete. The color of the walls was undefinable. The table was made of wood, but she couldn't tell what kind. Everything was shifting, fluid. It didn't bother her, but it was unusual to say the least.

Suddenly, Nalia heard a creak on the stairs. Footsteps.

She whipped around, and was greeted with a face she hadn't seen in years. Hair long and chocolatey. Skin smooth and pale. Large, vibrant eyes brimming with happy tears.

A voice she never thought she'd truly hear again.

"Hey."