Chapter Thirty-Eight
D ebs knelt in front of the twin headstones, placing the bouquet of multi-coloured gerberas down on the ground.
“Hi, Mum. Hi, Dad. I know it’s not been that long since I came to see you last, but a lot has happened.”
Debs wasn’t a spiritual person, but that didn’t matter. Talking to her parents, her mother especially, had always been something that had brought her comfort. Even though they were no longer with her and hadn’t been for a long time, she’d never stopped the habit of speaking to them.
“The kids are doing good. Charlie is hitting that stage where he just hides in his bedroom. I swear he’s more like a fifteen-year-old, but he’s still the same sweet boy underneath it all, so I can try to get past the rest.” She thought back to how he had told her about his conversation with Sienna, how he had sought her out to speak to, the secret she had shared with him. “Thea is growing up fast too, but she’s fallen in love with the new kitten we have. Yeah, I bought a kitten. It was meant more to give Charlie some responsibility, and it has, but Thea loves it as well, and he doesn’t seem to mind.”
She shuffled on the ground, uncaring of the grass underneath her thin coat as she sat down and crossed her legs.
“And I guess the big news is I met someone new. She’s great, you’d love her. Yeah. I know. I said she. It was a bit of a shock to me as well, that one. But I guess I’d never really known anything apart from James for so long, I didn’t know any different. Besides, you know me, I always believed it was about the person rather than anything else. You taught me that. Turns out it was truer than we thought.” Debs sighed, picking at the grass beneath her fingertips. “Her name’s Sienna. She’s a youth worker and amazing at it, too. We met at this community centre I helped renovate. She’s kind and generous with her time and her care; everyone at the centre loves her. She’s funny, too—she’s always making me laugh. And really clever. She’s going back to uni, and I know she’ll smash it when she gets there. But she’s…she’s scared, I think. She lost her sister, and I don’t know the full story, but I get the impression that things between her and her parents haven’t been great since. And I think that’s made her doubt herself. She’s scared to take chances because she thinks she will fail. She’s scared to love because she’s terrified it will end badly, because she really doesn’t see what she has to offer someone.” Debs fought back a sudden wave of tears, voice thick with emotion when she next spoke. “Because I love her, Mum, and I want so badly for her to see that I do. That I don’t care about what she thinks she can give me because she already gives me so much.” She scrubbed a hand across her face, wiping away the tears that had slowly trailed down her face. “This is the bit I hate the most. Because you wanted to be here to see these moments, and I so want you to meet her. Because she really needs to hear one of your pep talks right now.” Debs lay her hand over the grass at the base of the weathered headstone. “And this is when I miss you the most because I really need my mum to give me a hug and tell me it will be okay.”
Sienna waited for the lift to reach the fourth floor, watching the illuminated numbers in the display climb higher, trying to ignore the nausea rolling through her body. After reading Debs’ mother’s words, she had sat for what felt like forever, sobbing uncontrollably at how they had pierced through her heart. Something within them, something within the maternal love which seemed to radiate from the pages like a spell had her starting to understand Debs a little more.
Love hard.
Was that what Debs was doing all this time? Was she loving her in a way Sienna had never experienced before?
Don’t be afraid to lose.
Penny had never told her that, instead always making her feel like all she did was lose. Even before Cerys, there had been a sense hanging over her that she was never enough, not compared to her sister, and it had started to cut deep, started to burrow into her psyche from such a young age that she always thought she had to push harder to get the slightest ounce of recognition. And even then it wasn’t enough.
In doing so she had become so afraid of losing that she had practically completed a self-fulfilling prophecy by pushing Debs away.
You deserve happiness, Sienna. Whoever that is with, however that looks.
Maybe she had blown her chance with Debs, but that didn’t mean she didn’t recognise the gravity and weight of the gift Debs had given her. A piece of her own mother’s advice, from her own hand when she had needed it the most. Even if all was lost, even if she had thrown it all away, Debs deserved to know what she had done in giving her that journal. She deserved to know how much it meant to her, that she wasn’t going to dismiss what she had given her.
She deserved to hear how grateful she was.
She deserved an apology
And, most terrifying of all, she deserved an explanation.
Her legs hadn’t seemed to stop shaking for hours, ever since Debs had shown up in her office, yet she somehow made it out of the lift and to the desk which sat outside Debs’ office, recognising her assistant from when she’d been here before.
“Sienna, nice to see you!” Janet frowned. “Are you alright, love?”
“Yes, thank you. Is Debs in?”
“No, love. But she should be back any minute. Why don’t you go in, and when she arrives back, I’ll let her know you’re here.”
“Oh, no, it’s fine,” she started, the small spark of power she had felt pushing her here quickly dissipating at discovering that Debs wasn’t around.
“No. Go on and sit down, and I’ll bring you a brew. You look like you’re about to faint on me.” Janet rose, steering Sienna into the office and sitting down on the sofa in a blur. “There you go. Now, tea? Coffee?”
“Coffee, please.”
“Coming right up.” Janet swooped out as quickly as she had swooped in, leaving Sienna still trying to catch up, her brain already sluggish from everything she had put it through over the last few weeks. She could feel it all come crumbling down now she was here, surrounded by just a little of Debs and her presence. She wondered if anyone would mind if she just lay down and fell asleep in the middle of the office. She gazed around through hooded eyes, seeing little things that reminded her so much of the person who occupied this space; the photos on the dresser under the window, framed drawings by the kids, the spare suit that hung on the back of the door: the bright, sunshine yellow ceramic pot which sat on her desk, the Peace Lily within it with a single bloom. Sienna heaved herself up on screaming, protesting legs, taking slow steps across to it, her fingers reaching out and brushing along the waxy leaves. Another wave of emotion, of pain and regret, washed through her at the gentle reminder of how this all began. That fateful night when, ruled by her attraction, she let herself take a step on a path that led to attachment. And now here she was, having it all dangled in front of her, taunting her, unsure and tentative, unknowing just what her next step should be.
“I still haven’t killed it,” Debs’ voice echoed quietly, and Sienna couldn’t help the small sob that clawed its way up her throat at the gentle tone.
“Knew you weren’t as bad as you said you were,” Sienna replied, each word wavering as they passed her lips.
“Sienna?” Sienna could hear the click of Debs’ heels as she stepped closer.
“I came to return this.” She turned, going to hold out the journal to Debs, when she noticed the redness that rimmed Debs’ eyes, making the sapphire colour of them even more stark and captivating. “You’ve been crying.”
Debs barked out a weak laugh, rolling her eyes upwards and blinking furiously. “I’ve been crying a lot recently. But right now, it’s because I’ve been to see my parents.”
“Oh.”
Sienna understood the pain of a graveyard visit, the toll it took on a person. The dichotomy of the memories paired with the indescribable knowledge that the person was no longer there. She hated them—then again, no one really liked them—but for Sienna, it wasn’t how she wanted to grieve or remember her sister. The only time she went was on the anniversary of her death, and that was still, eight years on, at the insistence of Penny.
“Yeah. After reading her journal again myself, and then giving it to you, I needed to speak to my mum.”
“You speak to her?”
Debs cocked her head, a small smile gracing her features. “I do. It’s not that I’m religious or anything; I just find that it helps. It’s something I’ve always done.” She paused, and Sienna could see she was having an internal debate. “Do you speak to your sister?”
“No.” Sienna shook her head sharply. “I don’t even like going…”
Her breath caught, fearing the admonishment from Debs. She had heard it before, that one and only time she had asked Penny if she could not go with them to the grave. She was met with a torrent of harsh words, accusations of forgetting her sister, moving on with her life without a care for anyone else, selfishly thinking of only herself and no one else. She was in tears before she had even reached Cerys’ grave, hadn’t slept for the nights running up to it, feeling like the worst sister and daughter in existence.
“That’s okay; it’s not how everyone wants to remember.” Debs took another step closer. “I told you that everyone grieves in a different way. Yours could just be remembering the happier times. You don’t have to visit to remember them. To still love them.”
Sienna closed her eyes, letting out a shaky breath at Debs’ words. She’d never been told that before, never been allowed to even consider anything different than how Penny had told her to grieve for Cerys. To know there was a different way, that what she had been feeling and how she wanted to do it was okay; it was overwhelming.
“Sweetheart,” Debs’ voice was as soft as the hand which delicately cupped her cheek. She leaned into it, the monumental wound which had opened in her chest stitching together already at the touch. “Do you want to talk about her?”
Sienna nodded, desperate to be able to speak about the sister she loved so much and missed every day and yet was hardly mentioned because of the recriminations that came with uttering her name.
“Let’s go home. I can’t wait to hear about her.”