Chapter 7
Elia – Fifteen Years Ago
“Aurelia.”
A voice calls to me in my dream. I’m standing at the edge of a lake with a group of other children my age, tossing stones and watching them skip across the mirrored surface.
I’m giggling as one of the boy’s stones sinks with a plunk and doesn’t make one skip.
Another girl stands behind me, braiding flowers into my hair, a sense of comradery in the group of us.
“Aurelia!”
The voice is more insistent now and the lake starts to blur, becoming fuzzy at the edges.
The laughter becomes a distant sound, the faces of my friends pixelating.
I’m losing my dream, and I try to focus on the details, trying to ground myself to stay asleep.
I had felt such joy in my dream, a happiness I had yet to experience in my reality.
“Aurelia! Wake up!”
I jolt awake, sitting upright, shaking the fogginess from my head.
“Mom?” I peer through my crusty eyes to see my mother at the foot of my bed, jostling my leg.
“Come on, get up. We need to go now!”
Her voice is insistent, but I don’t sense any worry or fear.
No light is seeping in through my threadbare curtains, so I assume it must be the middle of the night.
I yawn. “What time is it? What’s going on?”
“There was a falling star – we have to follow it. Come on!”
My mother yanks my blankets off and throws my coat at me.
I’m still trying to shake the sleep from my body, but I do what she says. I pull my coat on and start lacing up my boots that I’d thrown there after I finished my nightly chores, which seemed only a few hours ago.
“Good, hurry now. Your father’s already outside waiting for us.”
My mom tugs at my wrist and I gingerly follow her to see my dad pacing in front of our house. He has a stuffed satchel hanging around his chest and a long walking stick in his right hand.
“All set, darling?” He asks my mom, giving me a quick glance.
She nods, and my father starts walking at a brisk pace towards the edge of the forest that lines our farm. My legs struggle to keep up, and I find myself having to half jog to keep the same pace.
By the time our house is no longer in sight, I’m wide awake.
“Where are we going?” I’m scared to ask, but do so anyway, curiosity winning out.
“I told you, Aurelia,” my mother starts. “Your father saw a falling star cross over our house.”
My brows furrow. “And what does that mean, again?” I can’t imagine any meaning that’s worth hiking in the dead of night.
My dad scoffs like the answer is obvious and I’m slow.
“Where a star falls, there fortune calls.”
The confusion doesn’t leave my face so my mom chimes in. “A fallen star leads to gold, Aurelia. Fortune. Wealth!” The moonlight illuminates the excitement on her face.
“Right,” I mumble.
I wish I could say that this is the first time something like this has happened, but it isn’t.
This is exactly like the time my dad left us for a month when I was six because he swore he knew the location of a pen that made any written wish come true.
Or when my mom spent our farm’s monthly earnings on a pair of earrings that were supposed to whisper the thoughts of others to her.
Or the week I was sick because my parents had me drink a potion that the merchant told them would age me five years. Another desperate belief.
My dad gives me a wide grin and a wink, as if that would cheer me up. “It’s an adventure, sweetheart.”
My parents have a new ‘adventure’ every week.
We trudge along for hours, until the sun crests the horizon.
I’m thirsty and hungry. My too-small boots have reopened the blisters that only just healed.
Exhaustion is steadily creeping up on me, and seeing the sun, an unfriendly reminder of the morning work that will still have to be done, only worsens it.
I revisit the dream I was woken from and the plans I made for the day.
Today is Sunday, which usually means less chores to do.
I am supposed to meet Jenny by the lavender field to have a picnic lunch amongst the flowers.
Jenny is new to the town and had seen me working in the garden when she passed by.
She had introduced herself and we had made the plans that day.
I’d been looking forward to it all week. I had even front-loaded my chores in the week to make sure I would be free for most of the day.
At this rate, though, we won’t make it back to the house by noon. When I don’t show up to the field, it’ll be yet another friend I lose.
By the time the sun is high in the sky, it’s evident that this trip is going nowhere, not that I ever thought differently. My parents decide that someone else beat them to the falling star, and ultimately agree to call it quits and return home.
“They’ll be another adventure,” my dad consoles my mom.
Always the optimist. Never the realist.
It takes us the rest of the afternoon to make it back to our farm, an entire day wasted. My body aches with fatigue. I want nothing more than to curl up in my bed and forget this happened. However, there still are daily chores that need to be completed, so I grudgingly start.
To my surprise, Jenny does visit me, wondering where I was that afternoon.
My parents tell her the story about the star, and how I can’t talk because I have chores to finish.
She throws me a gentle smile that’s laced with pity and never asks me to hang out again.
I’m sure the rest of the village children filled her in on the girl from the crazy farm.
When I at last crawl into bed, I pull the blankets tight around me, hoping to escape back to the comfort of sleep.
When I dream, I dream of a schoolhouse filled with tittering children.
Of a birthday party, blowing out candles while being surrounded by friends.
Of a small cottage surrounded by lavender, no farm animals or wheat fields in sight.
I dream of everything I wish were memories instead of fantasies.