The only noise she heard was the eerie hiss of the creek as the water rushed past her, sounding nothing the way a creek was supposed to sound.
A creek is supposed to sound peaceful and delicate. Like a soothing song filling your ears and blocking out all of life’s strain, only to leave you with a feeling of serenity that is so hard to come by. A feeling that you can never hold onto, but can appreciate while you have it and long for while you don’t.
This creek was nothing like that. It was neither peaceful nor delicate. It did not sooth you in any kind of way nor did it keep you from strain or give you any sense of serenity. No one could appreciate its haunting beauty or long to be anywhere near it.
Yet there she was, standing in the knee-deep water, gazing down as it flowed past, waiting for that sense of closure to overtake her.
She knew it was there. She knew it would find its way into her heart. She knew because it had once before. It had the last time she’d been here.
She smiled to herself as she opened the door to her mother’s closet and stepped inside right between the long, quirky skirts and the unique assortment of blouses hanging on the rack. She closed the door, but left a crack open, just enough to see through to her mother’s room. This was their game. She would hide inside the closet and when she saw her mother she would jump out and yell ‘surprise!’ as loud as she could, hoping to startle and amuse her mother.
She was meant to go with her father to look for a new species of magical creatures, but he ended up having to work that day, due to recent news of a rare creature being spotted. He had apologised and left urgently, eager find and study it.
Now she was waiting for her mother to finish up in the bathroom, and come out looking just as she did every morning, all bright and fresh, ready to begin the day. She would be there to surprise her mother, who thought she had gone with her father for the day. She would burst out of the closet, yelling ‘surprise!’ and then it would be the usual laughing and smiling together, just as they did every time.
She heard the bathroom door open with a creak, and soft footsteps filing into the room. She kept looking through the crack, waiting until her mother would come into view. Any minute now, they’d be giggling and hugging.
The sound of a drawer opening and then a faint whisper were the last things she heard before seeing her mother collapse on the bed. She flew out of the closet and over to her side, yelling and screaming at her.
‘Mum! Mum! Mum, wake up!’ she pleaded. Her mother lay on her back, hair fanned out on her pillow, eyes closed gently, her body limp and still.
‘Mum, you’re scaring me! Stop it right now!’ she demanded.
She had no idea how long it was before someone came into the room, took her hand, and pulled her away from her mother. She had no idea how long she’d screamed herself hoarse at her mother, begging her to stop playing games with her, even though she knew her mother wasn’t playing. As she looked back at her mother for the last time, all she knew was how her mother had been the one to startle and surprise her.
She watched her father’s footsteps as they paced evenly across the room. She watched them almost as if in a trance, unable to tear her eyes away. She had been counting the number of times he would pace back and forth, but had lost track after seventy-two. Seventy-two had been hours ago.
She heard his voice again and again as the visitors arrived. She’d heard him tell everyone how her mother had died from spell damage, which was some version of the truth. She heard the visitors express their feelings of sorrow and offer their sympathy. She’d heard him tell them it would be alright, almost as if he was trying to convince himself. She’d heard him break down into tears after each one of them left.
She tasted the many casseroles the visitors dropped by. She’d sampled almost every single one, almost as if she felt required to. She began to wonder what was so special about casseroles and why people always gave them to you after you’d suffered a loss. Maybe they gave casseroles because they weren’t special. They were just ordinary. And ordinary was everything you wanted after losing someone.
She felt the many hugs that were given to her. She was all too familiar with hugging after a certain point. Everyone embraced her in their arms, trying to comfort her and reassure her everything was fine. She wondered how they could say such a thing and how they would feel if they were on the receiving end of the hugs.
She talked herself into running away. Not permanently, just for the afternoon. Just so she didn’t have to see, hear, taste, or touch anymore. She ran until she knew where to stop. She knew this was the right place to be. She could be alone, yet still have someone to talk to. She sat down cross-legged on the ground and talked to the creek, the rushing water responding exactly how she wanted it to.
As the water brushed up against her knees and flowed past her, she thought about how much she’d changed. So much had happened in the years that had passed without ever allowing another visit to the creek. She had always thought about returning, but had never had the courage. She had moved on with life, letting the creek become a distant memory.
But now in the current situation, she was back to where she had been so many years ago. Back in the same place, here for the same purpose. She had seen, heard, tasted, and touched, and now it was time to talk.
She asked why Iris had done it. Why Iris had decided to take her life. She asked why anyone could do it.
She and Iris had become friends about a year ago, both working as newly hired reporters for the same magazine. Iris had been her first real friend. They had shared the same beliefs and views. They both could see the world, but more importantly, Iris could see her.
She had heard Iris say some things to her, things about feeling rejected and unwanted at times. She had tried to tell her how much she’d wanted and needed Iris. She had tried to tell her to ignore the jeers from her disapproving family.
She asked why Iris hadn’t listened.
And then she remembered the last month, how much more distant they had become. Iris had started to change. She wasn’t the bright believer she had been before. She had lost sight of everything she once stood for. She could no longer see the world. She had become blind. Iris had fallen away from everything she once knew.
She asked herself why she hadn’t grabbed Iris back.
She remembered the last time she’d seen Iris. She and Iris had shared a cup of tea together after work, just a little over a week ago, when she had still been here. Iris had told her how much she enjoyed having a great friend like her. Before she left, Iris handed her a purple iris and simply said, ‘To remember me by.’
She asked herself why she hadn’t taken Iris seriously.
Now all she had left was the flower in her hand. The flower that had been the last symbol of Iris. The last thing Iris had given her, carrying the message ‘to remember me by.’ Iris had known then. She had known it would be the last time they would ever see each other. She clutched the flower in her hand even tighter.
She asked herself if she could ever let go.
She began to think back to her mother. She began to remember asking the creek the same questions. And the creek had answered every one of them. Now, it would answer the final question before she went on her way.
‘To my two loves,’ she said, thinking of her mother and Iris. She gently placed the iris on the smooth surface of the water and let go of it.
As Luna watched the iris being carried away down the creek, she not only felt the closure she had come for, but a sense of serenity flowing through her.
A Sense of Serenity by Mind Games
Chapter Notes: Thanks to my fabulous beta Abigail (Joybelle423). =)