Three

"Wednesday, February 21st, 2024"

"I really don't want to talk about this, Maddie."

Madora is lying on her back, staring at the ceiling, while Kaden's harsh words ring in her ears over and over again. That evening in his study upon seeing the book, her book, Madora had picked it up with a smile and turned to Kaden to talk about her. But as soon as his eyes saw what she was holding he went rigid, frowned, turned away and said those words, "I don't want to talk about this, Maddie." And she could not stop asking herself, how is it possible that Kaden does not want to talk about her?

Tired to the bones but unable to go to sleep, for the hundredth time since she and Harry had gone to bed four hours ago, she tosses and turns in the bed. Restless. How can anyone sleep when so many questions swim inside their head? 

Why did Jax...?

Why didn't Hailey...?

What happened to...?

Where are...?

How can Kaden...?

But more importantly, why doesn't anybody want to talk about it?

Toss

And

Turn.

She is now facing her sleeping son. He was upset earlier that day. He had all the right to be. Gently, she extends a hand and caresses her son's face, pushing aside the straight hair, which like that of his father, keeps coming back in his eyes. "He needs a haircut," she thinks. Harry has all the right in the world to be upset and quiet; because she had woken up one day, packed everything they had and bought two tickets to here, this place she used to call home, and uprooted his life. "Poor thing," she thinks and not for the first time since that morning she wonders, "Was it a rational decision?"

When she decided it was time to come back home, she did not expect this. She expected the anger, the probable rejection, the sadness, and even the disappointment, but this? The decay in this house and its owners was so strong, she could smell it the second she entered the house. Seeing their grief, after a decade, you would think it was just yesterday they had buried Harris and Matilda. And here Madora thought it was just her and it was because she was alone all this time.

Toss

And

Turn.

The ceiling again. 

Decay is the best way to describe the situation. As Harry busied himself in Kaden's study, losing himself between the pages of a book yet again, Kaden told her about their ritual; the anniversary. For the past ten years, they have been doing this. They gathered here, all of them, for almost a month and relived those Godawful days. They visited the necropolis - well, Kaden did - mourned and then went back home. 

If not decay, then what?

She looks at her phone. It is three in the morning, but she is not even slightly drowsy. With a sigh, Madora slowly gets out of the bed, makes sure Harry is still sleeping and escapes the room. Stealthily, like a thief, she goes downstairs, grabs her coat from the hanger in the foyer and sneaks outside.

As soon as she opens the door, the wintry air hits her and the icy oxygen molecules invading her lungs painfully freshen her up. She stomachs that. With the neck of her turtleneck, she covers her mouth and nose and chooses to stay outside.

It has stopped snowing. No snow, just wind. Standing out there is insane, but Narnia, as she keeps on calling this place, is breathtaking and worth it. The snow covering the land and the trees under the moonlight creates an unreal and mesmerizing image that she cannot take her eyes off of. 

"You are not running away again, are you?"

"Good God," Madora eeps as she nearly falls from the bench in the veranda. She doesn't even remember when she sat down there or how long she had been out there. Her hand on her heart hammering in her chest, she glares at her very amused intruder. "You scared the bejesus out of me! Heart attack is a thing at our age, you know?"

"Out age?" Elvina's face contorts in distaste. As if the combination of the two words or their implication left a terribly bitter aftertaste in her mouth. "Excuse you very much, I am still very young indeed," she holds up her chin defiantly and playfully. She is older than Madora, but she still seems to be the same. Not a day older than the last time they met. Her silvery curls cascading down her shoulders, her rosy cheeks, those laugh lines hugging her mouth. "You are," Madora must agree. The years might have left their marks on Madora, but they have not touched Elvina. "I am old, though. Feel ancient."

"It's alright, I'm a doctor. I'll take care of you if something happens," Elvina shrugs as she closes the door behind her and moves to sit by Madora. "So?" She is smiling. Kindly. Gently. Accepting. 

"So what?" Madora arches a brow.

"Did I interrupt your escape plan or something?" She asks. While her smile tries desperately to indicate it is a joke, that she believes it is a joke, her eyes betray it because all Madora can see in them is pure doubt. Not the judgmental type, 'I know you'll do it,' but the scared type, 'what if you do it again?'

"I'm not going anywhere," Madora tries to reassure her friend with all the sincerity she can muster. "Not again."

For a few moments, Elvina looks at her. Scrutinizes her. As if by merely looking at her hard and long she can find out whether Madora is being honest or not. Maybe she can. Who knows? She finally nods. "So, what are you doing here? I'm just asking because it's not exactly the summer time patio night weather, you know."

"Could ask you the same question myself," Madora looks ahead at the first dancing snowflakes gracing the earth once again. They are exquisite.

"I was thirsty," she shrugs. "Har had woken up in the middle of the night and drunk all the water as per usual, so."

Madora smiles. Husband and wife. The small things that bother you, drive you crazy but make you love your significant other more dearly. She can hear that adoration in Elvina's seemingly annoyed explanation. She had that. She knows what it feels like. 

She misses it. 

She longs for it.

"Couldn't sleep," she replies. 

"It's the house," Elvina says. "There are many ghosts in it."

"What is this, a haunted house?" Madora looks around alarmed. 

"Relax," Elvina chuckles. "I've totally forgotten what a scaredy cat you are. I meant it figuratively. Everyone in this house has a ghost from their past... we are all living in the past. We're still there ourselves. Drives you crazy sometimes, but live here long enough and you'll get used to it."

"I figured," she replies, back to watching the snow, wrapping her coat tighter around herself. The rogue strands of hair fall across her face again, covering it from Elvina's eyes and she does not push them back this time. "So, Jax in a wheelchair, huh?"

"Yeah," her friend nods solemnly. "It was a possibility after what had happened, but it still came as a shock to all of us. I mean, how can you expect someone like Jax to live the rest of his life literally motionless and bound to a chair? He pulled through though, never overcome it, but he does his best and Hailey's a saint."

"She seemed angry, though," Madora whispers. That look in her best friend's eyes when she first saw her, it was a withering look. 

"Don't mistake anger with hurt.”