Ashes and Embers

30. Silently Tormented

She doesn't know what she wants, I kept reminding myself. You've only been here a few days. Give it time.

I pulled into the driveway, starting down the long, final stretch leading up to the manor.

"You're definitely a better driver than Kriss," Megan commented. "She would have had at least five near-death experiences by now."

Kriss whirled around in the seat to face her friend. "I nearly killed us once on the way up here," she said in an informative and defensive tone. "One time. The drive from the city to Plattsburgh is much longer than the drive from Plattsburgh to the manor! Five hours longer, mind you!"

"You drove five hours?" I blinked. "My drive was only four. Why didn't you ever come visit me when you moved out here? It wasn't that long of a drive!"

"I don't know," Kriss admitted. "Father always said it was too far to drive, but he never really liked to travel, so..." she trailed off, biting her lip again, though this time it wasn't because of any awkwardness she felt.

It was the same way I'd trail off midsentence, the same way I'd wring my hands together, blinking rapidly, after Mom died. For months afterward, nobody really talked about her. Dad grew cold and distant, and even Weston and I started drifting apart.

Then we realized that what we really needed was to talk. Weston and I began sharing stories with one another, reliving the happy memories we shared with Mom, embracing the grief, the pain, rather than locking it away.

Dad... he never talks about Mom anymore. Even when Weston tried to assure him it would help. But he had just shaken his head, muttering something about leaving the past behind.

Kriss... I'm afraid Kriss is making that same mistake. From what I've witnessed, she and her mother don't talk at all anymore. Not about important things, anyways. And when one does try to reach out... the others lashes out. One step forward, two steps back.

She won't let herself succumb to the grief. She's locking it up, along with every memory she's ever had of her father. I know. I went through the same thing, though I released everything within a few months.

But for Kriss... it's been two years. Two years of locking away her memories and feelings have made her fear them. And I want to help her. I want to be there for her, to assure her to embrace everything, that she'll feel better - not tremendously, but slightly - afterward.

I won't pressure her, though.

I stopped the car outside of the front doors of the manor, pulling the key out of the ignition, and handed them over to Kriss. She smiled at me in thanks, sliding out of the car, popping the trunk as she did so.

"No peeking," she warned me, still smiling. "You have to wait."

I pretended to pout. "That's not fair," I muttered. "Everybody else has seen you in it."

Megan shook her head. "Only us three," she pointed to herself, then to Jamie and Sophie. "Nobody else had arrived when she tried it on. Everybody else saw the dress, but it was empty."

Mr. Abrams came out of the building then, smiling at us. I liked him. He had a sort of fatherly character about him that made me crave the nurture of my own father... something I haven't gotten in over five years.

"We got masks!" he announced, standing on the steps. "Mrs. Green had the maids deliver them to your rooms!" he frowned. "Where are the others?"

I assumed he was talking about Weston, Pipes, and Cordelia.