The Depths of Sorrow

by Eleanor Eden

  We were sharing a perplexed look when Money’s phone rang.

  “It’s Journey,” he muttered, then lifted it to his ear as my own phone rang.

  I reached for it and answered, smiling.

  “Hi, Mom.”

  Chapter 11 - Three Months of Bliss

  Our lawn blanket parties were more frequent in the weeks after we went home with Eve. In a last-minute moment of clarity, we realized a move to Jay’s opposite-of-tiny house made the most sense, at least until we knew what was happening with the crisis that continued to render him absent.

  Her nursery was nothing short of luxurious; not just for her, but for those who took care of her – two plush gliding rockers, a thick rug for floor-play time, and easy access to our bedroom (we’d taken up residence in one of the guest rooms; Jay’s room was out of bounds for obvious reasons and Money’s basement hideaway was as dark and sad as it sounds), the living room with the cozy fireplace, and a bathroom.

  I wonder sometimes if my memory is failing when I think of that time – I can’t remember cooking a single meal in the downstairs kitchen. Money was attentive in ways I hadn’t even been aware I’d need.

  And then my family had arrived.

  Money, the baby and I were in the back yard on our blanket, still dressed warmly in the April chill. Money had a fire going in the pit, which gave off enough comforting warmth to render us blissful as we saw the world anew through Eve’s eyes.

  Even at just a few weeks old, we found her extraordinary in every way. It was, we understood, expected that every new parent would feel this way about their offspring, but Eve didn’t fit into any of the developmental books we read. We’d scoured them feverishly, looking for confirmation and encouragement that her advancements were “normal.”

  But the only reassurance we found was with Jay. He called often to hear about his daughter, and sometimes to tell us what new information he’d learned about her. Her path seemed dynamic; changing and growing in ways that were entirely new. But one thing was for certain: her arrival and consequent survival were cause for celebration in that other place, Jay told us.

  And she was celebrated on earth, too. The hospital staff were just as perplexed as they were excited, though; she surprised them all in ways that sparked fear in their eyes, even as they praised her. And strangers were similarly baffled.

  “Your daughter’s eyes are incredible!” they’d remark, and we’d smile in return. “And look how alert she is; she’s so interested in everything!”

  We might offer a few words of thanks, but nothing more.

  Because the question whose answer scared them inevitably came: how old is she?

  And our answer never matched their observations.

  Eve was different. Her eyes were just the first visible evidence; her countenance the second. She was curious about everything, always ready to engage with Money and I, but also the world around her. She studied things we only saw, even at only three weeks old. And she laughed. It was as though she was an old, wise soul put into a new body, but that wasn’t it, either, for she was, in all ways, declared to be new.

  Different.

  So, rather than try and match her to books and lists and things that were known, we worked on letting her lead. And when she got attention, we gave vague answers that seemed to please.

  At home, though, she was free to be our extraordinary newborn: a Fated and a Missive. A Chimera, they’d called her in my dream.

  So that day when we were in the back yard, and we heard a car pull in at the front of the house, we needed to get our stories straight, and fast.

  “She’s four months old,” Money said, his eyes wide and on mine.

  “And very smart!” I added, thoughts racing. “Oh, and her name is Eve, not Sorrow!” I frowned. “People get really upset about her first name, but they love the one we chose for her.”

  He laughed, “I can’t blame them; nothing about her says, ‘Sorrow.’” He looked toward the house. “Who could it be?”

  “They’re familiar,” I frowned, recognizing the connection when I reached out for it. I started to stand, but Money raised a hand.

  “You’re still recovering.”

  “Oh!” I sat back down.

  Eve was watching our exchange with a grin. I giggled. “She thinks we’re funny.”

  “We are,” he called over this shoulder, for he was already running toward the front.

  I smiled down at her. Her dark curls framed her face, pressed around it by her hat, and her eyes sparkled back at me, three-quarters the color of mine, and a large wedge in her left uppermost iris the color of Jay’s. She kicked and punched the air, clearly overjoyed at – what? She was like that most of the time. Just – happy.

  And we suspected she had an incredible ability. Jay had asked me how I was healing from the cesarean for a reason besides friendly concern; he told us shortly after I remarked on my lightning-fast recovery from the procedure that our Eve was gifted with the ability to heal.

  That was all we knew; whether it had to be intentional was what we needed to know next. Jay hinted that the answer to that question would determine the next steps in whatever fight was progressing against the dark ones.

  We would learn about it soon, but had lost our need to rush it. We wanted more time with Eve – and more time without the dark ones.

  “Oh, there they are!” my mother’s voice drifted to me, and my stomach did a quick turn.

  “Mom?” I asked, rolling over without taking care to act as though I was still in recovery. I didn’t care; my family didn’t know everything, but they knew I wasn’t like them. They accepted it, and that was enough.

  It wasn’t just my mother making her way toward us, though; Eric and Jan flanked her, both smiling ear to ear.

  I ran to them, overjoyed at the surprise of their visit. I met Money’s eyes as I hugged my brother. He looked quite satisfied.

  “Did you do this?” I asked, wiping a tear from my cheek.

  “He arranged everything!” my mother enthused, and I studied her face – and then those of my siblings, realizing how much I’d missed them.

  “Oh, I’m so happy!” I cried, hugging them all again, much to their delight.

  Money had disappeared behind us, but now he rejoined our little circle, with Eve upright in his arms and smiling, too.

  My mother gasped. “Oh, my God!”

  Jan stepped toward her, her face a mask of shock.

  “She’s big,” my brother said, and Money laughed.

  “She’s special.”

  My mother nodded, then looked at me. “Money explained to us that she’s unique. I see that, but she would have been, anyway. She’s my granddaughter!”

  “I love you, Mom,” I said, hugging her again.

  “She’s three weeks old?” Jan breathed; her eyes still wide.

  Money nodded.

  “Her eyes are so cool,” Eric said, leaning closer to her.

  Eve grabbed his nose, laughing.

  “She’s more like a six-month-old,” my mother remarked, her voice quiet.

  “We don’t know why or how,” I said, reaching for her and then handing her to my mother, “but we aren’t afraid of her differences anymore.”

  My mother took her granddaughter with tears in her eyes. “She’s so beautiful.”

  Money put an arm around my shoulders.

  Eve rested her head on Mom’s shoulder and smiled at Jan, who had followed her with her eyes, still riveted.

  “She’s amazing,” Jan cried, reaching out with an outstretched finger, which Eve grasped instantly.

  Money squeezed my shoulder.

  “Thank you,” I said, standing on my toes to kiss him.

  We made our way to the house so everyone could get settled; me walking on air at their presence and Money leading the way with nothing but smiles and friendly banter for Mom and Eric.

  Jan lingered behind, linking her arm through mine. “Holy cow, Bird! I thought you said this guy was dirty and skinny and
-”

  I laughed. “He’s changed.”

  “No shit!” she raised her eyebrows as she watched him go into the house, Eve in his arms. “He’s beautiful!”

  “I know,” I laughed, feeling overwhelmed. Thinking of the babe that grew inside me that was his; the one that was a secret held from my family.

  For now.

  Chapter 12 – Closure

  My family’s departure was staggered, which was a good thing, as painful it was for me to see them go. Mom was the last to leave, Jan and Eric needing to get back to school and work and their own lives.

  “Are you alright?” she asked the night before her flight, after we’d put Eve in her crib.

  I made a face. “Of course! It’s been so wonderful having you here; I’ve missed you.”

  Mom had waved a hand. “I can see that you’re happy, and that you’ve bounced right back to your old self in record time! But I suspect you’ve been through more than I know, and while I don’t need to know details you’re not at liberty to tell, I need to know if you’re coping.” She stopped packing and sat on the end of the bed, patting the comforter beside her.

  I sat, my emotions already threatening to overwhelm me.

  She smoothed a lock of hair away from my eyes. “When you were home – well, your whole life, really! – I worried about you because,” she paused, frowning. “It wasn’t just that you were different – it was that you were alone. And now, you’ve blossomed!” She smiled.

  I wiped a tear from my cheek.

  “I’m so happy for you, my little Birdie.”

  “Aw, Mom,” I leaned into her, undone by her childhood nickname for me.

  “And I’m so proud. Money is an incredible friend and partner. And it sounds like you’re both on good terms with Jay. I feel reassured that you’re where you need to be.”

  I nodded, my tears dampening her sweater.

  “But I need you to tell me whether you’re fulfilled. Whether you feel you’ve finally found your place.”

  I pulled away from her, meeting her eyes. “I think I’m still figuring it out.”

  She patted my hand.

  “But for the first time in my life, I understand who I am, and why.”

  She smiled. “That’s huge.”

  I nodded, then hesitated.

  “What is it?” she frowned.

  “You and my father -”

  Tears welled in her eyes, then.

  “Was it like Money and I?”

  She shook her head. “We never shared the connection I can see between the two of you. We were never that…solid as partners, if that makes sense.”

  I waited, wanting more.

  “I think we found comfort in each other. We were both in times of need and that brought us together – it brought me you.”

  I nodded, feeling something for my father that I’d shoved down into nothing for years. “I wish I could have known him,” I said.

  She took me in her arms. “He was a lot like Money.” She laughed. “He was a lot like you, too.”

  Chapter 13 – An Unwelcome Visitor

  It had only been two days since my mother left and the three of us had the house to ourselves again when I awoke suddenly in the middle of the night.

  I didn’t have to investigate to know Money wasn’t beside me; I could feel his presence, and it was still in the house, but not beside me.

  I paused, holding my breath for a few seconds, wondering if Eve had woken, too. But no; there was nothing.

  I got out of bed and grabbed my robe, threading my arms through it as I went downstairs.

  And as soon as I hit the ground floor, I felt it. It was something I’d been indulgently ignorant of for months – since we’d fought Money’s darkness, blowing it into wisps of shadow that faded from the air on the wake of distant screams - and completely uprooting one of Money’s godmother’s peach trees in the process.

  But here it was again; that feeling of being forced into someone’s company. Someone – something – you despise.

  Helplessly drawn toward it, I joined Money in the kitchen. He stood, back to me, at the back door, gazing out the window. Still. Quiet.

  “Money?”

  His hand shot backward, but the rest of him remained still. One finger was raised. Quiet, Burden.

  I padded to the door, standing next to him, our arms touching to reestablish the connection that made us one. And I followed his gaze.

  It was at the edge of the woods; a deeper darkness. A beast of shadow. And it was different than any I’d seen – that was plain, even in the dead of night. Past embodiments of the dark ones had been dog-like in appearance, though they stood on two legs and emanated hate. I felt the same energy that night in the kitchen, but it was more controlled, somehow. And the creature was clothed. At the time I couldn’t make out the details, but I could see the fabric moving in the chill air – something long and tattered. Something wound about the mass of dark energy that congregated there.

  “It’s different,” I whispered.

  Money nodded. “Seems to be a popular theme of late.”

  I linked my arm with his. “Are you OK?”

  He nodded again, but I could see his jaw muscles clenching rhythmically. “Why is it here? Why now?”

  I shrugged. “A warning, maybe?”

  We both sank into silence, our eyes on the thing as it pulsed and wavered.

  “It seems less – solid,” I said, finally.

  Money turned abruptly. “I’m calling Journey.”

  I kept my eyes on the darkness, my thoughts on our daughter. “Do you think he’s here for her?” I called after him.

  I heard his ascent of the stairs stop, and then he was coming back to me.

  I met his eyes. “What?”

  “I don’t know, but it would make sense, especially if she’s got a role in the destruction of its kind,” his eyes were dark and deep.

  “Do you remember the finger pulse?” I asked, my mind racing through the techniques we’d talked about in the weeks since Eve had been born.

  Money frowned. “We’ve never done it.”

  I held an index finger up. “We have in our minds.”

  He started to raise a pointed finger to mine, then paused, his eyes betraying his doubt.

  “The last thing Eve and I need is for you to be afraid of this thing, Money.”

  He nodded, then joined a fingertip to my own and we both closed our eyes.

  “Gather,” I said, my voice low, and we inhaled with our lungs and with our energies, drawing everything in. “Focus,” I whispered, my voice a bit strained as I drew the energy into the point where our fingers touched.

  I opened my eyes to find Money entranced, our fingertips aglow. This is good. He’s not afraid when he’s unaware, I thought, my eyes finding the dark one again at the edge of the trees.

  “Now, release!” I cried, pressing our fingers together and out, a laser-focused beam shooting toward the darker darkness with a sharp buzzing sound and striking it with such force it appeared to disintegrate on the spot.

  I opened the door, leaning out, squinting into the blackness.

  “Where did it go?” Money’s voice was shaky behind me.

  I focused harder, my head protesting with an ache at the effort. “It’s gone!” I looked back at him, confused. “Have you ever seen that?”

  He shook his head, his face blank.

  I straightened, letting the door close. “I don’t like this.”

  He shrugged. “Maybe that new trick is really effective?”

  I looked toward the trees again, then shook my head. “It felt different. It looked different, too. And one blast shouldn’t have killed it.” I looked at him again. “And I still feel – something – don’t you?”

  He frowned, gazing into the night, then nodded. “I do, but it’s distant.

  “But when I destroy a dark entity, I feel its absence, plain as day.”

  He nodded, looking thoughtful. “Maybe it wasn’t entirely here.”


  I shivered. “Like a spy, sent by its leader, but only partially appearing.”