It was so quiet.
So, so unnerving and quiet.
Mary was gone. We had nothing left.
I found more days than not I'd go riding to avoid the silence. At least the birds still chirped without her.
I was sitting in the train next to Anne, alone with my thoughts.
The four of us were headed to Charlottetown this weekend. I was going to tutor Ka'kwet, and Bash was going to make arrangements for the funeral and deliver the news to her friend.
We arrived, and I made my way to where I'd seen the natives last time.
"Hello," I said to them. They greeted me, and we made our way back to the village.
"Oh wow," I said, seeing all the people and children, everyone doing something.
Ka'kwet and I went to sit down, and I reached out my hand.
"My name's (Y/N)," I said, and she shook it.
"Ka'kwet," she said shyly. I smiled.
"You have very interesting names," I said, noting how strange all of their names sounded.
"They have meanings. Your names are strange," she said, laughing. I smiled.
"You seem to already know a lot of English," I said, and she nodded.
"A good amount, but I'd like to learn to read it too," she said. I nodded, grabbing a stick and drawing out the alphabet.
"A, like an apple," I explained. She listened intently, and I showed her what each letter looked like and how it was pronounced.
It was nice, being able to take my mind off of Mary. Hours must've gone by as we got to know each other, and I got to learn a bit about their culture too.
Once I was done I went to see Dr. Ward. I was shocked when I learned about what had happened between Bash and Elijah.
Everything felt so out of place.
—————
I shook, trying not to cry.
The minister read the prayer, and I clamped my hands together, trying not to sob out.
"I will fear no evil, for thou art with me," he recited.
I felt a tear roll down my cheek, and my chin quivered.
The minister finished, and I broke down. Mary was the only woman I'd had since I was a little girl. Nothing was like her laughing or her advice. The smell of her cooking.
My body racked as tears streamed, and I felt a hand on my back.
I turned, falling into Gilbert's arms, sobbing out.
"I know, I know," he said, holding me.
I felt his hand stroke my hair, and I held onto him. Gil was the only family I'd had my whole life. The only person I hadn't met or lost.
Even when I did lose him, he always came back.
Bash stayed by the grave for 30 minutes after everyone else.
I sat alone, outside. I'd let Gilbert thank everyone for coming. He was much better at hiding his emotions.
"I figured I'd find you out here. You always seem desperate to avoid people."
I turned back, seeing Miss Stacy.
"And yet I'm always desperate for your company," I said softly, and she managed the best smile that one possibly could after attending a funeral like that. She sat beside me.
"I'm so sorry for your loss, (Y/N). I can't imagine what it's like," she said, and I looked over.
"Sometimes I forget. I forget I ever even had a father. I don't remember my mother, seen as she died giving birth to me. Mary treated me like a daughter, and I planned on growing up with her guidance. And I'm 17 now, and an adult anyways, but it still hurts," I said. Miss Stacy's hand reached for mine, and she removed the black gloves from her hands, letting our palms touch.
I was thrilled by the feel of her hand. Her skin was indescribably soft. An even greater comfort than I had imagined it would be.
"I hope, in some way, my guidance is a comfort. I know I'm not fit to be a motherly figure but-"
"I think Anne disagrees," I said, and we both laughed softly.
"But I do care about you. I care about all of my students. I don't enjoy seeing mere children carry the weight of worlds on their shoulders," she said.
"Well, the world lays at my feet," I said, referencing to the day we met. She looked over, smiling slightly.
"You know, when I first met you, you said you'd warm up to me, and while you have, sometimes I feel as though we're complete strangers," she said, and I furrowed my eyebrows.
"Why?" I questioned.
"In class, you treat me like any other teacher, and yet every time I catch you outside of class... we're like this," she said, and we finally pulled out hands back to ourselves, as if not realizing they'd been intertwined.
"Perhaps it's because in class I'm too afraid the rest of the world will see me the way I only intend for you to see," I told her.
She paused, contemplating the worlds a moment.
"And what way is it that you intend for me to see you?" She asked.
I felt my body go hot with fear. I hadn't intended it like that, was that what she thought?
"I intend for you to see my simple humor, and yet understand that my mind is more complex than anybody might care to know," I said, and she smiled.
"You're a delight to talk to because of it. I can count on meaningful conversations, but not without a joke or two," she said, and we both giggled slightly.
"When we're at school, Miss Stacy, I shy away because I can't help but let myself go around you. Like I know a version of you that nobody else does," I said, and she gave a quizzical look.
"It just surprises me. You laugh and laugh all during lunch, and when we talk you seem like a much different person," she said, as if trying to figure me out.
"I guess I just behave differently with different people. I love a good laugh, but I find that with only a few people to understand me, I spend more time pouring my thoughts to those who do understand," I said.
She nodded.
"Will you be alright on Monday?" She asked.
"I hope so. Class work is a good distraction for just about anything," I said, and she smiled.
"I never thanked you, you know," she said softly.
"For what?" I asked.
"The drawing."
"What? I thought you didn't like it, you erased it after all," I said.
"I never erased it, I've got it sitting on my dresser. I bought you a new slate, so I could keep it," she said.
I looked over, and our eyes met. My heart thumped in my chest. Muriel Stacy if you don't look away I might kiss you.
Her eyes scanned my face, and we both cleared our throats, laughing softly when we did it in unison.
"You didn't have to do that," I said.
"I know, but I wanted to. There was no other way to keep the drawing," she said.
"I'm glad you liked it. I could've done better if I was using something else, like paint," I said.
"I'd like to see it. You're a gifted soul, (Y/N). Don't let that go to waste. I sincerely hope you'll finally join the school newspaper," she said.
"And write about what? Farming?" I joked.
"You could have an art section. Or really anything. You've got so much to say, don't let it go to waste," she said.
"I've got too much to think about, not say. I'll reconsider, but if I decline, do you promise not to nag anymore?" I teased, and she laughed, nodding.
I smiled, taking in her outfit.
I'd lost a woman who served as a mother, and yet you, Muriel Stacy, found a way to bright light to it.
Perhaps that was why I'd be filled with inexplicable jealousy for the next two weeks.