My visit to Oriana's house has become frequent over the summer. I have grown close to them. Even with Oko whom I only see every now and again during his rare rest days. I've come to like reading books too, but I still prefer having Miriam tell the stories.
"Oriana!" I crawl into their house.
"Meg!" Oriana greets me, sitting on top of her mother as usual. Her favorite spot.
"Good afternoon, Meg," Miriam turns her head towards me. Usually, I would catch her reading Oriana a story, but it looks like they have just been chatting this time. "You sound chirpier today."
I let out a smug chuckle as I raised a plastic food container I brought. "My mom taught me how to make sweet milk candies and I made some today."
"Milk Candy?" Oriana's eyes spark.
"Oh, Meg. The food you bring is always so delicious. But you don't have to do that."
"It's fine! Most of them are food my parents left for me anyway. And I really wanted you to try these," I walk closer to them, opening the container. "I made it for Oriana because I know she'll love it."
I offer it to Oriana who grabs two pieces, one on each hand, and starts eating them at the same time.
"Milk Candy! I love!" Oriana shouts.
"Manners, Oriana," Miriam reminds.
I giggle. "There are plenty here, Oriana. These are all for you. Have some as well, madam."
Miriam shakes her head. "My jaws are a bit weak today. But thank you."
"Is that so?" I hand the container to Oriana. "Leave some for your papa too, okay?"
"Sweet milk candies," Miriam smiles as if remembering fond memories. "I have not had them in a long time."
"How long?" I step back and take a seat at my usual spot.
"A very. Long time."
Her smile is slowly fading, eyes narrowing. I stare at her wondering what she is thinking.
"Miriam," I called out to her softly. "I hope I am not being rude, but I have always wondered. You grew up in the uptown, didn't you? I would recognize that pendant anywhere but I've been afraid to ask."
Her smile returns. "That's right. I did."
"What made you move to this side?"
She looks at me, her smile growing even bigger. "A loving husband."
"But... Couldn't you have brought him with you over there instead?"
"I think you already know why I couldn't."
"It's much better than you moving here, isn't it?"
"Not to my parents. They would never allow it."
"And you still chose him over your parents?"
She just stares at me. Smiling.
I stare back at her as if we're communicating telepathically. Slowly, my mind answers my own questions. "You loved him that much?"
"Very much."
"What did he do to win your heart?"
She giggles. "It's not as fantastical as you are imagining. It was nothing special. I just happened to... Meet a very kind person. A person whose heart knows no bounds. A person whose beauty others can't see. And that was more than enough for me."
I stay silent for a moment.
Miriam looks at Oriana who smiles back with her swollen, candy-filled cheeks. "He gave me everything I could ever ask for. The most precious things I have."
The beautiful moment was broken by Oriana's cough. Instinctively, I grab the jar that they use to drink. Not having too many possessions helped me easily remember where things were in this house. There's only enough water left in the jar to clear a throat. I rush towards Oriana.
"Slow down," I chuckle as I help her drink. "Here."
Oriana empties the jar and heaves a satisfied sigh. We both giggle.
I head towards the door with the empty jar in my hand about to fill it up from the river but I hear a soft voice.
"Meg," she calls to me. "Thank you for being a wonderful friend to my daughter."
"I should be thanking you, madam. I have had nothing but happy memories in your house these past few weeks. I'm glad to have a friend like Oriana."
Miriam shakes her head. "You might not have noticed it, but Oriana's smile has been much brighter since she met you. Brighter than ever. She always loves it when you come visit."
"I will make sure to continue visiting often then."
"I love Meg!" Oriana grins.
"I love you too, Oriana." I feel my ears redden. "I'll go refill this jar."
"Thank you, Meg," Miriam smiles.
I head out the door and to the river with a smile I can't wipe off of my face. I submerge the jar. Water rushes into it until it is filled. From far away, I see the kids playing, passing a ball around. Some of them are looking my way. It's as if I'm still foreign to them, even though they have been seeing me around for quite a bit at this point. As usual, I ignore them and head back up to the house.
When I get in, I see Oriana unfolding a piece of fabric on Miriam's face.
"Oriana, that's not nice," I place the jar on the corner of the floor, then stand up next to the bed. "Don't play on your mama's face."
I take the fabric from Oriana. Miriam's eyes are closed with a gentle smile on her face.
"Madam?" I call for her. No response.
"Miriam?" I touch her shoulder and gently push. No response.
"Miriam!" I grab her shoulders, softly shaking her awake. But still. No response.
"Miriam! Miriam!" My shake grows stronger each time. But she is not moving. Not breathing either.
My eyes widen. My breathing becomes pronounced. I turn to Oriana. She stares at me with a smile. Then with a whispered voice, she says, "Mama is sleeping now."
I take a careful step back, then hurriedly run out of the door. I bolt towards where the other kids are playing.
"Hey!" Flailing my arms in the air. They all stop and look in my direction.
"Doctor! Please someone call a doctor!"
They all just stare at me.
"A doctor! Please!"
They look at each other.
"There are no doctors here," one speaks.
"Go back across the bridge if you want to find one," another speaks.
"A-Anyone that can help," I negotiate.
"What is it?" yet another speaks. "Did they finally die?"
One kid chuckles. Then another chuckles louder. Then another. Soon the whole crowd is laughing. The more I panic, the louder they get. Why did I ask these people? I already knew they were monsters. They don't care about Miriam, or Oriana, or Oko. They would be happy to see them disappear.
But what else can I do? Do I run across the bridge? Will someone come help if I do? Amidst the loud waves of laughter, a person pops into my mind and deafens everything else.
"Oriana!"
I run back to the house.
"Oriana!" I shout as I climb up. Inside I see her tidying her mother's bed. The fabric I took from her is back over Miriam's face again, completely covering it.
I kneel in front of her and pull her to my shoulder, hugging her tightly.
What are you thinking right now, Oriana?
Do you realize that your mother just passed away?
Are you feeling sad?
Do you understand that you are not going to see her again?
She can't read you those stories anymore.
Do you understand any of that?
These questions echo in my head while holding her close. Then I feel a tiny hand on my head. Brushing it gently. I pull my head back to look at her. Her smile. My eyes well up. I bury my head into her chest.
"It's okay... It's okay," I say to her. Though, maybe I was saying it to myself.
There might not come a time when I would understand what Oriana is feeling. What does her smile mean? Is that a smile of happiness? Does she feel anything at all?
I don't know. I don't get it.
But for now, I will let my tears fall. For you. For both of us.
We stay on the floor until the sun goes down. My back against the wall and Oriana in my arms. I can't even take a look at her face without the waterworks starting. I'm just holding her through this cold, quiet summer night.
Wood creaks. Oko pops into the door. He looks at the dried trail of tears on my face with Oriana in front of me, then looks at the covered face of Miriam on the bed.
"Mm," Slowly he climbs in and walks towards Miriam. "Mm. Mm."
He holds Miriam's head up to his chest. Hiccups. His voice starts cracking.
Oriana breaks away from my hold and climbs up the bed. She starts patting her father's head while he continues to hug her mother.
I'm too weak to move. Too weak to say anything. I just watch as Oko mourns for Miriam, and as Oriana comforts him.
I hug my knees and bury my head in it. The night gets colder. The silence is only accompanied by the faint flowing river water and Oko's teary hums.
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