author's + note
Not finished. Not particularly happy with it, either. Meh.a + mother's + love
She had set the time, the date, and the place. She had taken care of everything herself, and had been a royal mess because of it. It was easy to tell; her temper was sporadic, she slept horribly, and she was continually in and out of the apartment, always moving.But now that it was the day that everything was supposed to happen, she wanted to set the date back for a reason she couldn’t explain. Fear? Possibly. Fear about finding out what she would rather not know. But she wasn’t a coward—never had been—so she had continued with the ordeal. Of course her brother came along.
Standing outside of a small café, the blue-haired woman was constantly fidgeting—she wasn’t yet ready to go on inside. A tall form stood next to her, his dark eyes much calmer then the female’s in front of him. It was his job to look, wait, and watch, and nothing more then that, other then to offer Ravi the occasional comforting glance. Here was an ex-commander of a notorious organization, a woman who had seen so many dangers she had lost count—and she was afraid of a frail woman for the sole reason of the title she bore. “Mother.” It was sad to say, but he couldn’t say he knew the feeling; his parents were both dead.
“Seiji?” Ravi’s voice broke the silence.
“Hm.”
“Do you see him?” ‘Him’ being her step father, Akrai.
“Ravi, for the third time, he’s not here.”
“Just making sure,” she told him, looking into the window of the café. Looking back up to Seiji, she let her weight rest on one foot as she thought. “I… guess I should just go in, huh?”
“S’up to you,” he told her.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” Looking to the door, she wrung her hands out in front of her. “Wish me luck?”
“You won’t need it. Stop frettin’.” This was said in a lighter tone—it was never fun to watch Ravi beat herself up.
“…Thanks Seiji.” She said not another word as her hand reached out, pulling open the door. Time to get this over with.
Ravi moved through the tables easily, gray orbs searching for a pair of eyes that matched. Her mother, the only blonde in the place, wasn’t hard to spot.
It was a tense moment when Ravi her chair out from the table and sat down, not looking to the woman who sat across from her. There was no sound from either of them, though it wasn’t as if the mother could mistake Ravi for someone else—who else had that hair, and her own eyes? Instead, the mother inspected her daughter; her sleeveless black shirt and gray slacks looked well enough, and she seemed healthy. “…So.” Ravi, in only one word, wanted an explanation. And if her mother couldn’t figure that out, then she would be walking out of here the same way she had come in. Without a mother.
Hooking a blonde strand of hair behind her ear, the older woman paused before she spoke. She wasn’t stupid—what else would her daughter want but an explanation? She hadn’t contacted her in years, and now all of a sudden wanted to see her? The woman was sure that Ravi did not want to feel like an object of affection for her to throw away as soon as she tired of her. “I… I thought you were dead.”
“That’s all you could come up with?”
“It’s the truth.”
Ravi didn’t take to trusting new people; not even her own mother. “Really.”
“You left without word or note or anything, Ravi. I have hope, but you were in Doi. How much hope can a mother have in a 14 year old going to Doi alone and never returning?”
“Not enough, apparently.” Ravi was unimpressed with the woman so far; still gray optics had not matching steel orbs.
“Don’t give me that,” her mother snorted. “You never called, or wrote, or came by to see me. What was I supposed to think, Ravi? I’m an optimist, but I’m also a realist.”
“You wouldn’t have noticed even if I had come by. You were too wrapped up with Akrai.” Ravi’s glare was cold, but her voice continued to remain low.
“I-I was not—“
“That’s bullshit,” Ravi hissed, hand coming down on the table forcefully. “You let a man who knew nothing about me diagnose me as ‘depressed’ and shoot me up with all kinds of medications. You know why he hated me? Because he was wrong, and I knew it.”
“Ravi, he doesn’t hate you—“
“Doesn’t hate me?” Ravi repeated. “He talked to me when you “thought I was dead” and didn’t tell you. If that doesn’t constitute as hate, then I don’t know what does.” The woman known as her mother was silent after that, not sure of what to say.
“Ravi… dear, you’re just reading too much into it…”
“Don’t ‘Ravi dear’ me,” she snarled as she stood, shoving the chair back. “Don’t read too much into this,” And as she slammed her chair back into the table, she turned and strode away without waiting for another word. Twenty plus years, and never seeing her once? She talked an awful lot about things she didn’t know.
And if there was one thing she didn’t know, it was Ravi.
Sona could hear her fingers tapping against the glass of the cup, but she didn’t register the sound. Well… she really messed that up, didn’t she? The uncertainty of not having a second chance was very real, but Sona pushed that from her mind.