Page 89 of Letters to the Lost

Chapter 32

Autumn

’28 – Ruth B & Dean Lewis’

“Those boys I swear,” Mrs. Moore says, shaking her head as if disappointed but the small smile on her face gives her away.

“They sometimes forget that personal space is a thing,” I laugh.

“Just like that one there huh?” She nods to my legs making me look down at a pleased-looking Parzival.

“Huh didn’t even hear him escape out with us,” I say, my hand automatically stroking his head, his full weight resting on my legs.

I look up at Mrs. Moore to see her watching me intently, her eyes scanning over me cataloging every inch.

“How are you doing honey?” Mrs. Moore asks me, her accent thickening as emotion takes over.

“I’m doing better than I was…” I say, trailing off because I don’t know what else to say to her.

When I was a child, I would talk to her for hours about anything and everything, and she would listen without complaint the warm smile on her face and a small nod to let me know she was still listening.

Now I feel like I’m standing in front of a stranger, so I walk away towards the chairs on the decking, patting the seat next to me for Parzival to jump up.

“I’m not going to force you to talk Autumn, I just wanted to give you a chance to breathe away from everyone, including your men without you being alone,” She tells me, sitting in the chair opposite mine.

“Thank you. Honestly, I find it hard to talk about things nowadays, I don’t feel like the same girl you once knew.”

“That’s because you aren’t. You were only a little girl when I knew you honey, who barely knew the horrors of what this world could offer. Now you’ve been exposed to it, and I wish you never had…” Mrs. Moore wipes at her cheek, “If I could Autumn, I would take it all away.”

“I don’t think you could take this pain away Mrs. Moore. It still hurts. I try to be happy and some days I am, but I’m playing pretend to try to be strong and it’s hard,” The words fall from my mouth before I can stop them.

“Aren’t we all pretending in some way? Our pain just cuts a bit deeper than the others. Come walk with me, show me that beautiful daughter of yours,” she says, standing. Her hand palm up as she waits for me to take it.

“Ok,” I whisper, standing and taking her hand.

The feeling was so comforting, I feel like the scared little five-year-old girl who ran to her best friend's mom for comfort rather than her own.

The sky is dark, the stars twinkling above us as we walk to the tree. Parzival sniffs the bushes around us as we walk, slightly trailing behind but never far.

“You said our pain…”

“I did. I never told anyone, only my husband but I lost my baby before I had Atlas,” she tells me, her hand tightening around my own as she tells me her secret.

“I’m so sorry. I couldn’t imagine,” I try to apologize.

“You can though, can’t you? You didn’t carry her in your womb, but you were her mommy. Just like I didn’t get to feel my baby’s heartbeat but I’m still hers even twenty years later.”

“It’s not the same,” I try to reason. I couldn’t imagine the pain she carries.

To have carried her baby only to lose her, to never hear her laugh or her little snores as she sleeps. My pain can never compare to that.

“No honey, it isn’t. I lost my baby and I miss her every day, but I have the nightmare of torturing myself about the things I could have been missing. Every year I get to think about what she might be like now, what she might look like or sound like. What her favorite things might be, the things she and Atlas would have fought about…” She doesn’t wipe her tears away, letting them fall but she does wipe mine.

Her lips curve into a sad smile as she uses her sleeve to wipe my face, the material soft against my skin.

“Then I met you. This beautiful little girl with brown hair that shone and these big, beautiful hazel eyes that only held happiness. Your eyes would light up and get super big and wide when you would see Atlas, his face practically mirrored yours. We could never separate you both when you were playing and he would beg me every morning to come play with you, unable to be apart from you.”

“He hasn’t really changed much,” A watery laugh coming from me as I try not to sob.

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