Page 409 of Eternal
Hey, hope everything is fine in Vesper. Can you look something up? I just have a name: Luxis Shiraz. Anything you can find, anything at all. Please. Don’t log the search.
I sent it. Then I lie back on the floor, staring at the ceiling, Sunny in my arms.
The TV flickers. The tape loops. And her voice keeps singing. Mine too.
Two voices. Mother and daughter. One last time.
113
DAMIR
“Lost Love Letters” by Fog Lake
Present
Igot back to my apartment later than I expected.
The place is scattered with the stuff I got for her. I went all out today.
I found vinyls from Oasis and Deftones, bands she’s obsessed with but never owned. Picked up some Radiohead too, and the Goo Goo Dolls. That part was easy.
But then I found something she never even mentioned, a Fairouz album. I didn’t even know who she was until a few days ago, when I heard her singing one of her songs in Arabic while she was in the shower. It took some digging to track it down, but I did.
I hope she’ll be surprised. I also got her a bike helmet, bright and deep blue, exactly like the one she joked about wanting last week. And a hoodie, the same color and size as mine. I wonder ifshe’ll wear it or just steal mine like she usually does. Feels weird, honestly, buying all this for someone
It’s the first time I’ve ever done anything like this for anyone. Am I doing it right?
I was thinking the kitchen could use a new fridge too. She loves her cereal and yogurt for breakfast, and the one I have now barely fits all that. So I’m gonna look into getting a bigger one soon, to give her space to keep all her favorites easily. And the couch. I found this blue one online.
It’s supposed to arrive in two days. I can already picture it brightening up the living room. It’s not here yet, but I can’t wait to show it to her.
Outside, I rebuilt the swing, planted some irises by the fence. No idea how to care for flowers, but I wanted her to see it. See her smile.
I’m still thinking about all this when the door opens.
And there she is… But she’s not smiling.
She steps inside, clutching something tight, that plushy,Sunny. Her eyes are red, puffy like she’s been crying.
My chest tightens, and a thousand questions rush through my head. Is it something I did? Did I miss a sign?
She moves slowly, almost like she’s trying not to make a sound. She grabs a glass from the cabinet, then my whiskey bottle. I want to say something, but the words get stuck. She fills the glass, downs it in one gulp, then leans against the counter, exhaling hard.
I step closer, almost without thinking, I reach out, turn her gently around, and pull her into a hug. No words. No explanations. I hold her tight.
Her arms hang cold and still at my sides, and I ask softly, “Was it tough, baby?”
She nods, barely. I let go and take her hand. “Come on, sit with me. Tell me everything.”
She lets me lead her to the sofa, where I pull her close like I’m trying to keep her safe from the world. I don’t have answers to all the questions in her head. But I’m here.
She’s curled into me on the couch, her knees tucked up, her head resting under my chin. My hand’s in her hair, moving slowly, like maybe if I keep it steady enough, I can calm whatever storm’s been tearing through her all day.
She’s quiet. Still. But not in a peaceful way, in that holding it in until it breaks way.
Then I feel her shift. She reaches into her hoodie pocket and pulls out a pack of cigarettes. It’s almost muscle memory, she doesn’t even think about it. She pulls one out, then the lighter, a small click, a flame.
I watch her bring it to her lips. The glow of it lights up her face for half a second, and then she exhales slowly, through her nose, like she’s trying to breathe the ache out.
