Page 108 of The Cerulean Sister
Why can't I tell her that I was sick with worry, that every horrible thought crossed my mind when I heard there was a fire in this direction and I could not think straight until 99 told me her temple was secure.
"Oh, I am fine." She rubs her belly. "Was your part of the Estate very affected?"
"Yes, most of it."
She hums. "They locked us up inside. It seemed like every Estate guard came to our door, but the awful sounds in the distance never made it close, thank First Mother."
I can't tell if she thinks it was unnecessary, if she is trying to downplay the experience, or if she was not truly afraid.
What do I say to her? I have rehearsed the first words that would come out of my mouth countless times.
But now, looking at her, the only thing I want to do is hold her, for her to hug me like she loves me, like she didn’t abandon me to the Estate, disappointed in a failure that was not of my making.
"You look well," I say, so softly I think she doesn’t hear.
"You too. I am happy to hear you have ascended." She removes her hand from the mound of her belly and gestures to my grey gown.
"Oh . . . Thank you." There is an obvious panic in my voice. "Would you like to sit?" I ask clumsily, as if I am the host in this courtyard and the stone bench is mine.
We sit in silence, and she shifts to get comfortable and clears her throat a few times. I watch my guards speaking to each other across the courtyard, completely oblivious to my sister and me.
"What did you want to speak with me about?" She spreads her dress out, looking a little uncomfortable.
"Days ago, when I saw you in temple, the service with the divinity ceremony."
She nods, trying to follow my fumbling words.
"The mother . . . Did you see . . . Is she still here, in the Temple of Divine Mothers?" I point to the thick door of the entrance on the far side of the courtyard.
"No, I believe she traveled back to her family."
"You saw her after the birth?"
"No . . . she was not a friend. I saw her go into labor though." She makes big eyes and pats her stomach like the act has been heavy on her mind. "This is what you wanted to speak with me about?"
"No!" Guilt washes over me; she looks so disappointed in the topic choice. But in truth, it's very easy to speak with her, naturally falling into the comfort of familiarity I have missed. "Could I visit you, in the temple?"
I hate that the reason for my request has two motivations.
"I don't think so," she begins, and it hurts more than I want to admit, but then she leans into my side. "I have asked, but the elders are wary with your atonement."
I smile, a little relieved. "It will be a long time before that is over."
"They say you were driven mad when you retrieved the stones. That you lost your mind on that other world.Haveyou lost your mind?" She giggles.
I smile at her lighthearted joke, but my eyes sting at the sound of her laugh, how easy this seems for her. I can't bring myself to let go as easily, to pretend there is not a deep woundthat may never heal. My body will not allow me to forget how deeply sad I have been since she left and how afraid once I knew she returned.
"You're comfortable at the Temple of Divine Mothers?"
"Yes, of course," she answers with a side look. "I would not have pilgrimaged if I did not think it would be more comfortable than the place I was."
"And where did you pilgrimage from?" I can't disguise the hurt in my voice, the question I have contemplated to myself over and over, spoken as if I cannot contain it inside any longer.
She leans a hip to the side, adjusting and wincing a little until she is comfortable. "I should not have left the way I did, but I had to," she admits with a sigh.
There is much hurt between us, so many layers and years of resentment. I can't help but scoff at those words, ones that still haunt me. "You had to?"
"Yes!" she whispers, but her voice is so biting, it comes out just as loud but with more breath. "I couldn't stand it anymore. It was constant. Anytime you did anything wrong, I was used as a means to motivate you, make you feel awful for not ascending. I couldn't be a part of it anymore."
