Vivian Li - Winters

The buzz of the TV had been on all day, playing through the living room into the kitchen. The monotone voices of news anchors and world updates filled the lonely kitchen as Vivian worked on dinner. She'd always cook with the news playing, a weird habit she had developed in college. Somehow it always seemed to soothe her, even if the news was particularly grisly.

Their faceless voices filling her muted home something to say. With something to show. 

Dinner was going to be simple tonight. Exhaustion had wired itself into her nerves after such a long day at work. The cutting board slid just an inch as the silver blade of her butcher's knife sliced cleanly through the peppers. 

Her phone pinged and rang, breaking her focus, pulling her away from the chicken. The number was blocked but she picked up anyway. Thinking it was her boss, he always called her with a blocked number, he thought the government was listening in.

Apparently becoming a political science professor didn't bar all the abnormal people from her life.

"Mrs. Winters?" The voice asked. It was light, the man on the other side seemed hesitant. An unknown, unrecognizable voice from his tone. She could make no assumptions about who he was. 

"Yes?" Vivian responded in a heavy Chinese accent. It always seemed to become more pronounced when she was confused. "Who is this?" She inquired further, trying to clear her voice from confusion to interrogation. 

As though he found a thread of courage, the man spoke with a levelled out tone. No wavering nor hesitance. "This is General MacIntyre from the United States Army. Your daughter is Diana Winters, correct?" Although, his voice cracked as he pronounced Diana's name, despite the strength in the rest of his sentence.

"Yes." She swallowed hard, hearing her daughter's name always made her heart beat faster and her eyes flutter as they pushed back tears. She was dead, they'd buried her five years ago. Nothing left of her but one grey headstone among a sea of others. Tears wouldn't help her now and so she swallowed them firmly. "She was."

"This morning we recovered your daughter, alive, at a Chechen Stronghold. She is currently resting at the Lorne West Hospital on Anderson Street. Do you know where that is?" Vivian didn't reply, only slow blinking. The world felt tremulous and still all at the same time. The phone felt weightless in the palm of her hand. Her feet no longer touching the cold kitchen tile.

"Ma'am?" He called out, breaking open her swivelling mind. 

She shook off the momentary lapse, turning off the stove behind her. Running through lists in her head of what to do now. But everything was blank, Vivian could not think, much less listen as she heard the mumbling tone of the General. "Hmm?" She asked. 

"Visiting hours open at 10 AM, Mrs. Winters. Would you like to see your daughter?"

“Yes.” She breathed out deeply, hearing the harsh click of the phone call ending. Phone still pressed into her ear, her exhale mirrored the way the world was trembling around Vivian at that moment. 

She tried to place the bowl onto the island but missed. Letting it crash to the ground and spill across the kitchen floor. Vivian scrambled towards the staircase. "Michael! Michael!" Tears whipped down her cheeks as her world spun, with shaking, lily pad knees she fell to the carpeted floor in front of the first step and bawled. Vivian Li-Winters never cried. As a little girl she'd always prided herself on it. On her ability to keep her emotions in check.

Today, however, that was not the case.

Her husband ran down the stairs, eyes wide, scanning for commotion. With glassy eyes she stared up at him, "She's alive! Diana's alive!"

First, confusion distorted her husband's features as he heard the news, as he saw the bawling form of his wife crumbled on the floor. Then, as their gazes finally connected she watched as his face contorted with his pale lips that broke into a quiver, then a sob. Soon enough he was at his knees, eyes broken with sharp tears and words of mumbled praise of God. For once it was like the world was theirs, only them, the TV and the carpet as it dug into their knees.

Vivian almost laughed. Tears streaking over the apples of her cheeks, she had to hold back a chest-born chuckle. It had to be a dream. It had to be fake. But she held herself back; she regained control and collected herself. She needed to see Diana. 

Vivian didn't know if it was grief, joy or another unknown or incommunicable emotion that gripped her so tightly in that moment.