08-27-2018, 03:36 PM
Jay's mother swept the room with warmth now she had a focus, fuelled by Cayli's turn for the better and perhaps grateful for the distraction. Even his dad bristled less the more he looked to his daughter and absorbed hope for the first time. He sank into one of the chairs, rubbing a weary palm over his face, and let his wife do the fussing.
Natalie let the normalcy wash over her, careful not to dwell. She could count on one hand the amount of time she'd spent with her own family over the past five years, and it dulled an ache in her chest she wasn't keen to examine. She didn't want to allow herself to feel comfortable here among Jay's. It felt almost like betrayal.
Her parents once again distracted, Cayli's curious attention rebounded with new gumption. It was the power doing that, Natalie guessed, building quick bridges of sisterhood, or maybe it was simply an outlet for the loneliness ringing her in isolation since her Sickness. Either way she asked a lot of questions, like Natalie was a window into Jay's life.
"What was it like in Africa?"
The smile the question evoked was genuine, if a little sad. After the mess she'd left in London, Africa had been like balm to her soul. The country held something of her heart, though still not quite home; even there the roots she cast down, no matter how deep, took only cursory pressure to rip free. Natalie twisted to pull her wallet from her jeans pocket and offered out an image. It thudded a pang in her chest that curled away like smoke.
"This was St. James."
"Was?" Cayli eagerly pulled the tech onto her lap, peering curiously at the flat, red brick building and its painted cross. Natalie hadn't intended for her to pick up on the past tense, but once confronted she didn't shy away from it either. She appraised an answer, quite sure Jay would not want to field questions about Masiaka from the mouth of his innocent little sister. But in the end she was blunt.
"Life doesn't ways have a happy ending."
"Hmmm." Cayli leaned back, thoughtful. Pillows cushioned her frail shoulders. "Jay doesn't talk about things like that." She began swiping through the images, silent as though unsure whether she ought to press for details, or if she would find herself shut out. After a moment she shot a quick glance at her father before changing the subject, though Natalie doubted it would be forgotten. Amusement lit her grin instead. "Have you got any pictures of my brother in his silly green beret?"
Natalie smirked but shook her head. The record stopped before that morning she and Azu had discovered Kofi bleeding against the wall. Most of the people in the photos were gone, a fact she didn't feel the need to share. The album was full of bright white grins crowded too close to the lens. Of spraying dust and triumphantly raised arms at the kick of a ball through a stone marked goal. Of wide eyed delight the first time they saw the ocean, and of Azu arms folded, patient and proud.
She didn't lean in to relive it; those images were too precious to delete, wrapped in genuinely happy memory, but it was sweet enough to hurt and she didn't want to see the ghosts of smiles and promises cut short. The wounds were still too raw.
Cayli grew quiet, absorbed, and Natalie let her mind drift, hoping that whatever hunch Jay chased he would return quickly. A mild headache burned pressure behind her eyes in protest of the scant rest she'd managed during the journey. The tension had flooded out with the relief but it left her on a ledge of exhaustion. That she could deal with; a frequent acquaintance these last few months. But she was desperate for a shower and clean clothes; the grit and grime of travel like a greasy second skin. It began to make her restless.
Cay glanced up then, her eyes crinkled sly like a secret captured. "You have a message from Jay on here."
Natalie blinked in surprise. She'd lost the original phone in the tunnels; had forgotten the voicemail would have backed up to her account. She hadn't listened to it again; had no intention to either. The fear in his voice carved a mark on her soul that needed no reminder... and certainly didn't need to be shared with his family. Natalie's eyes narrowed, but she seemed more amused than angry that Jay's little sister had used the opportunity to root through her phone.
She just hoped to God Cayli didn't choose to hit play.
A brow lifted, teasing disapproval. "I see the nosiness of little sisters is a universal trait."
But Cay only laughed, brushing it off. "You have sisters?"
Glad of the distraction Natalie leaned in to press the pad of her thumb to homescreen. A flick brought the background image into focus. The ornate gothic architecture of their Swiss home, Alistair's favourite, arched turrets behind them. They sat on a blanket spread out on the grass, bordered by flowers burst forth by summer's touch. Frozen in innocent ignorance of the tornado that would decimate their family less than a year later.
It was an old photo, Natalie still a teenager; only a matter of years ago, but it felt like another world. Isobel was the only one looking at the camera with a demure and ready smile. Alice laid out on her stomach, their mother's tickling fingers at her ribs trying to coax her upright and sensible for the portrait. Natalie smirked down at her little sister, pale hair shielding half her face, the sheet music in her lap rippling in the breeze.
Her father wasn't in it, but only because he had taken it.
It was one of the reasons she treasured it.
"Are you guys like princesses or something?"
"No, of course not." She laughed at the wide-eyed wonder captured in Cayli's expression, and supposed it really was a million miles away from corn fields. The girl's head tilted around a puzzle. She blinked up at Natalie like she was something strange, but her lips pursed around questions she clearly planned to save for later.
"Mom," she called instead. "I really do feel better. When do I get to go home?"
Natalie let the normalcy wash over her, careful not to dwell. She could count on one hand the amount of time she'd spent with her own family over the past five years, and it dulled an ache in her chest she wasn't keen to examine. She didn't want to allow herself to feel comfortable here among Jay's. It felt almost like betrayal.
Her parents once again distracted, Cayli's curious attention rebounded with new gumption. It was the power doing that, Natalie guessed, building quick bridges of sisterhood, or maybe it was simply an outlet for the loneliness ringing her in isolation since her Sickness. Either way she asked a lot of questions, like Natalie was a window into Jay's life.
"What was it like in Africa?"
The smile the question evoked was genuine, if a little sad. After the mess she'd left in London, Africa had been like balm to her soul. The country held something of her heart, though still not quite home; even there the roots she cast down, no matter how deep, took only cursory pressure to rip free. Natalie twisted to pull her wallet from her jeans pocket and offered out an image. It thudded a pang in her chest that curled away like smoke.
"This was St. James."
"Was?" Cayli eagerly pulled the tech onto her lap, peering curiously at the flat, red brick building and its painted cross. Natalie hadn't intended for her to pick up on the past tense, but once confronted she didn't shy away from it either. She appraised an answer, quite sure Jay would not want to field questions about Masiaka from the mouth of his innocent little sister. But in the end she was blunt.
"Life doesn't ways have a happy ending."
"Hmmm." Cayli leaned back, thoughtful. Pillows cushioned her frail shoulders. "Jay doesn't talk about things like that." She began swiping through the images, silent as though unsure whether she ought to press for details, or if she would find herself shut out. After a moment she shot a quick glance at her father before changing the subject, though Natalie doubted it would be forgotten. Amusement lit her grin instead. "Have you got any pictures of my brother in his silly green beret?"
Natalie smirked but shook her head. The record stopped before that morning she and Azu had discovered Kofi bleeding against the wall. Most of the people in the photos were gone, a fact she didn't feel the need to share. The album was full of bright white grins crowded too close to the lens. Of spraying dust and triumphantly raised arms at the kick of a ball through a stone marked goal. Of wide eyed delight the first time they saw the ocean, and of Azu arms folded, patient and proud.
She didn't lean in to relive it; those images were too precious to delete, wrapped in genuinely happy memory, but it was sweet enough to hurt and she didn't want to see the ghosts of smiles and promises cut short. The wounds were still too raw.
Cayli grew quiet, absorbed, and Natalie let her mind drift, hoping that whatever hunch Jay chased he would return quickly. A mild headache burned pressure behind her eyes in protest of the scant rest she'd managed during the journey. The tension had flooded out with the relief but it left her on a ledge of exhaustion. That she could deal with; a frequent acquaintance these last few months. But she was desperate for a shower and clean clothes; the grit and grime of travel like a greasy second skin. It began to make her restless.
Cay glanced up then, her eyes crinkled sly like a secret captured. "You have a message from Jay on here."
Natalie blinked in surprise. She'd lost the original phone in the tunnels; had forgotten the voicemail would have backed up to her account. She hadn't listened to it again; had no intention to either. The fear in his voice carved a mark on her soul that needed no reminder... and certainly didn't need to be shared with his family. Natalie's eyes narrowed, but she seemed more amused than angry that Jay's little sister had used the opportunity to root through her phone.
She just hoped to God Cayli didn't choose to hit play.
A brow lifted, teasing disapproval. "I see the nosiness of little sisters is a universal trait."
But Cay only laughed, brushing it off. "You have sisters?"
Glad of the distraction Natalie leaned in to press the pad of her thumb to homescreen. A flick brought the background image into focus. The ornate gothic architecture of their Swiss home, Alistair's favourite, arched turrets behind them. They sat on a blanket spread out on the grass, bordered by flowers burst forth by summer's touch. Frozen in innocent ignorance of the tornado that would decimate their family less than a year later.
It was an old photo, Natalie still a teenager; only a matter of years ago, but it felt like another world. Isobel was the only one looking at the camera with a demure and ready smile. Alice laid out on her stomach, their mother's tickling fingers at her ribs trying to coax her upright and sensible for the portrait. Natalie smirked down at her little sister, pale hair shielding half her face, the sheet music in her lap rippling in the breeze.
Her father wasn't in it, but only because he had taken it.
It was one of the reasons she treasured it.
"Are you guys like princesses or something?"
"No, of course not." She laughed at the wide-eyed wonder captured in Cayli's expression, and supposed it really was a million miles away from corn fields. The girl's head tilted around a puzzle. She blinked up at Natalie like she was something strange, but her lips pursed around questions she clearly planned to save for later.
"Mom," she called instead. "I really do feel better. When do I get to go home?"