Page 8 of Eternal
“Oh, and Azra.”
I freeze, my hand on the door.
He steps closer, his green eyes softened. “Can I…Can I hug you?”
A sad smile breaks through my tears as I look into his eyes, his smile is ghostly, almost relieved, as if he’s finally exhaling a breath he’s held for too long.
And I almost run to him, bloodied and dirty, and he opens his arms.Home. It was soft like that, I remember now.
“Kto, esli ne ya?” he says, his voice low but steady.
Who, if not me?
“Who if not you?” I whisper back, remembering how we used to say it when we were younger.
“Happy birthday, Azra. I missed you.”
Thank you,I wanted to say. Thank you for remembering, because I almost forgot it. Thank you for reminding me of that little girl.
But instead of sorrow, anger took over, because I finally remembered what it felt like to celebrate her.
2
AZRA
“Daddy Issues” by The Neighbourhood
7 years ago
“Good girls don’t cry. They clean up the mess and smile.”
That’s what Mama used to say.
Usually right after yelling, or breaking something, or when she forgot to pick me up from school again because the bottle made her tired.
I think I’m a good girl. I try to be, I really do.
The kitchen smelled like sugar and something burnt. I scraped too much frosting on the top and it slid off the side, but I fixed it the best I could. It looked ugly, a little gray, but I made it myself. I used blue icing because it’s my favorite color. I love blue because it feels like how I’m feeling inside everyday. It’s calm and quiet, like when I’m alone or the sky when it’s all dark. It’s a color that makes me feel a little better, even when I’m sad.
I wrote my name on it too, even if the “a” looked like an “b” it still counted.
I think birthdays are supposed to be like this… maybe. I don’t really remember.
Mama used to use the candles to light her weird little white sticks. She sang when I was way younger but when she started getting sad, she stopped. Even if Alexei tried, she would start making a scene.
I’m not mad at her, I think, even if I were, it would be stupid, she’s dead now.
She stopped singing really early on, she probably never even did it for Eren.
She’d say, “Happy Birthday, now be quiet.” I used to cry, and then she’d cry too, then she’d say sorry, and then forget she said sorry.
I think that’s what birthdays are like.
But I still hoped, maybe this year will be better. Maybe this house, even if it’s ugly and loud and smells like wet dog, maybe it would feel like something safe.
It’s been a few weeks since they took me in, the police officers told me I’d be safe now.
I heard once that foster families are supposed to love you, but there’s no brother or sister here. Just my new parents and no one here talks to me unless it’s yelling. Still, I thought maybe, if I made a cake, they’d smile at me, or be proud, because I’m still sad too, but I’m still proud I did it.
