What the Shadows Gave Me

         The bottom of the moon dips low enough to touch the squat roofs of the Inner State. Darkness had long since enveloped the town, leaving only a few street lamps burning like beacons in the shadows.  Audra breathes in the night, wishing she could relish the beauty; but, tonight holds sadness beyond comparison. Across the street, dim lights flood through the stained glass windows of the red brick mansion. Despite the stillness of the night, she senses certain uneasiness in the air. She swore to herself she would never come back, but she needs his help one last time.

         A lingering doubt bites at Audra’s anxious mind, holding her back. The longer she stares at the card, the more questions and forgotten memories resurface. It is a simple playing card with a jester on it, throwing three objects in the air: a knife, a thistle, and a bottle. Over the eighteen years of obtaining the card, she has never figured out the symbolism behind its motif; it had always been another question for her absent husband.

         Husband, she laughs. Bitterness wells inside of her chest.  For an instant, she tells herself that she is not ready for this meeting; but, she clears her throat and the thought out of her head. Forcing a brave face, she steps up the concrete walkway between two meticulously trimmed hedges and knocks on the door lightly. This is wrong, she thinks to herself once more. 

         Within moments, she hears activity on the opposite side and the door swings open. Half of a face peeks behind the door. From the sagging cheeks and wisps of gray hair pulled back in a bun, Audra can tell it is the older woman he had mentioned in previous conversations. Her lips are pulled tight in stern curiosity. “May I help you?” She rasps, giving Audra the once over.

         Audra swallows hard, “I’m here to speak with the owner of the house.” She holds up the dog-eared card to the lady. A strange look of bewilderment crosses the woman’s face as she begins to close the door. “Please, it’s import‒.” Audra pleads before the door is shut in her face. The sound of metal scraping against metal is heard, a lock being unchained.

         With a gush of warm air, the door opens again. The older lady steps away and waves her inside, “Come in.” The statement seems like a command. Audra hesitates by the door, but the woman has already begun to down the narrow hallway. Obeying, she  steps inside the extravagant manor. Quickly, her eyes adjust to the dim light. Large gas lamps line the walk way, throwing harsh shadows across blank faced portraits. Five pairs of dark eyes follow her as she tries to keep in step. The woman stops at a set of glass doors. “Don’t mind the mess,” Her hard voice shakes as her aged hands fumble with the brass doorknob. “He has been spending most of his time in the library, doing who knows what. Won’t let me in here to clean… Although I do suppose I would mess something up.” With a sharp twist of the handle, the door pops open, engulfing them in the scent of dampness, warmth, and stale air. She ushers Audra inside the door in a rush. “The roof has been leaking from all of the rain we’ve been getting lately. Take a seat by the fire,” She orders again, “I’ll let him know you’re here.” With those parting words, she exits the room, leaving Audra to her thoughts.

         Audra sinks into an overstuffed arm chair and stares around the room. Stray firelight strikes the golden veins of the wallpaper, bringing the room to life. The heat from the fire warms her skin; but deep inside, she is chilled to the marrow. Sharp edges of uniform picture frames catch her attention. Inside of the grayscale world, stick thin people wallow in each others filth. A photograph of a girl with large, half crazed eyes holds Audra captive. Dirt cakes her face, sticking to the trail of tears. Just behind her, not twenty feet away is the wall dividing the two sectors of the city. Just behind those walls, live people too caught up with their own lives to provide care for a dying child. She forces herself to look away. Above the set are pictures of the Pre- Division Era. Clean shaven men and women some in extravagant clothing, but most in street garb, smile as if nothing is wrong. Of course back then, nothing was wrong. They had no clue the medication they were on would destroy their minds, unravel families…break a nation.

         She has to stop thinking about these things. In an attempt to occupy her mind, Audra runs her thin fingertips in the circular pattern on the sofa.  For a moment, her nerves relax, but then she remembers where she is and how close she is to the one person that left her. The anticipation of this meeting is finally gnawing at her. Lost emotions of love and anger begin to emerge in her mind, causing a blush of heat to creep across her back. The door rattles open, unraveling her thoughts. A thin man with a crop of salt and peppered hair glides in. He carries himself with an elegance Audra has yet to adapt. A weak smile stretches across his face and his dark eyes lighten a shade.

         “Audra, to what do I owe the pleasure?” A thin serving girl carrying a tray of drinks enters behind him. With an exaggerated motion he waves her out of the room. As instructed, she quietly sets the tray down and leaves. “This is a surprise. We haven’t seen each other in thirteen years.” He leans forward, with the smile wearing thin, and begins to make them both a drink. Neither of them have any intention of drinking, however. Too many thoughts cloud their minds already. “The last time I invited you to my home, you declined.” His once smooth voice is now a rumble in his chest, cracking like gravel.  With an inviting smile, he sticks the tumbler out to her.

         For a brief moment, their eyes meet, hands touch, but she looks away, breaking the connection. Audra can feel her self slipping; maybe she would need the drink after all. Instead, she holds the cold glass in her hands awkwardly. She nervously bites the inside of her lip, “Her eighteenth birthday is in two days.”

         From across the empty space, Audra can feel her husband take in a deep breath. He holds it in his chest. “I haven’t forgotten,” he exhales. “I’m surprised she’s made it this long, given her condition. How is she?”
Audra shifts uncomfortably at the underlying doubt in his voice. Anger flashes in her chest, she is your daughter. Have more faith in her! Instead, she tries to smile, “Brave, curious…rebellious, just like her father. She asks about you‒ not you, personally‒ but her father.”

         “What have you told her?” Her husband’s voice is strained. If he were not such a reserved man, she would have mistaken his tone for fear.
         She breathes out an amused laugh, “I don’t even know what to tell my self. You’ve left us with so many unanswered questions that I am not even sure what to think.” Sadness chokes her suddenly; she swallows the knot in her throat, “I still don’t understand how you could leave us, yet still claim you care.”
         “Don’t bring this up again. The only thing that is relevant is I am protecting you.”
         “Withholding secrets never protect loved ones; they only make the pain a surprise…” Anger coils in her chest like a snake, poisons her words and hitting him deep in the heart. She stands up. The room suddenly feels smaller. She wants to leave, but there is too much to be said. Instead, she paces the length of the Persian rug lining the sofa. “I can’t do this any more. I’ve done all that you have told me. I’ve put her through defense classes, lied to her, and stood by as she suffers through fits of pain.”
         “Audra,” her husband keeps his voice low and level, “It’s for her best interest to keep her out of the loop.”
         Audra slams the glass down on the table with enough force to shatter the bottom. “She comes home with bruises, cries herself to sleep some nights because the pain is so intense, and I can’t even look her in the eyes knowing we’re the reason she’s in agony. You may think what you’re doing is right, but don’t you dare tell me to not to bring this up again.” She crumples down into the chair, fighting back sobs. “It has always been so easy for you.”
         Silence slides between them as her husband tries to find the right words to calm her. She watches as his jaw clenches and relaxes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t understand how hard it was for you. But Audra, you have to stay strong. She’ll know about everything soon enough. Right now is not the time. It’s not safe for her or you.” He eases into the chair beside her, briefly hesitating to reach out and console his wife. “You have to understand. Trust me, I’ll take care of the both of you.”
         Audra shutters at the unfamiliar sign of affection. “I’ve trusted you long enough.” She pushes past him, past the broken tumbler, and the broken girl staring back at her. From where she stands, she can see the old woman nosily peering into the glass doors from the dim hallway. “Her birthday’s the twenty-fifth. Tell her, or I will.”