2.9 Some Day

LIBRA

My father died on the 9^th of January, 1774. He was cremated and his ashes were scattered from a cliff into the river below.

While my mother stood on the edge, lost in thought, I retreated to a small bench further in. The other reaper joined me, like I knew he would. Neither of us looked at the other.

“It wasn’t you, was it?” I said, after a while.

“No,” he said. “But it doesn’t matter, does it?”

“No,” I agreed, wishing it was any other way. “Maybe in a while. In another month, or a year, or a decade…”

“It’s alright if you’re not okay. I’ll be there when you are. Until then I won’t be too close.”

“But not too far,” I said quickly.

“Not too far,” he said, and disappeared like mist, leaving behind an empty loneliness that was shaped exactly like him.

 

YUKI

The snow was melting into messy puddles on the grass, yet the air was still chilly. Probably not a good idea to be sitting outside in the shade, yet I felt a sort of peace watching as the sunlight travelled over the grass.

Libra comes outside, a blanket wrapped around her. She quietly sits down next to me and hands me a hot cup of tea. My favorite. It tastes of simpler times wrapped in rain and crinkled book pages, times shared with someone that has left and will never return.

“I wanted to thank you,” said Libra. “For everything, and more. You never once told me that I should find myself a man and get married. You never told me my behavior was unladylike, or that I shouldn’t do something or another.”

I shook my head, bewildered. “Well why would we, when what will happen will happen?”

She just laughed. “You two are quite unlike most parents, you know.”

“Why was this on your mind?” I remembered a question I had for a while now, but had been buried amidst the grief. “Is there someone?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean,” I prompted. “Someone. Someone special.”

Libra’s gaze had been fixed on a point somewhere in the distance, and she looked away, blushing. “No, not yet.”

I shrugged away my confusion. The sun was beginning to creep below the horizon.

“I have a question for you too,” said Libra. “Are you okay?”

“Maybe. Some day.” We watched as the last sliver of sunlight slipped over the hill. “Not today.”