And suddenly I had to think about my family, had to cling desperately to the memories. I remembered my father’s face again, the last time I’d seen him, looking tired and annoyed as he’d gone outside to care for a heifer who was giving birth. My sister Anwen teaching me needlepoint. Baking bread with my ma. I remembered the first time she handed me my baby brother Siors. He was six years younger than me, and so tiny I marveled at it.
After what seemed like hours the tide of memories finally slowed, and I was able to think clearly again. My family had been all I had; but even more importantly, I was all they had. I was the only one left to remember any of them, and I’d walked through the last twenty years without giving them a thought. I suddenly realized the weight of that betrayal. How could I have let them be lost for so long?
A hand touched mine. “Molly?” Scarlett’s voice was soft, concerned. “Jeez, it’s really hitting you hard, huh?”
Without knowing I would, I reached out and grabbed her hand, clutching it with my flimsy human strength. “Is it always like this?” I said, hearing the Welsh accent in my voice for the first time in forever.
I saw understanding flicker in Scarlett Bernard’s eyes, and something else. Compassion. She seemed to know that I wasn’t talking about my body’s reaction to humanity. “Believe it or not,” she said gravely, “You get used to it.”
“I was so wrong, all this time, I thought I–” I swallowed and shook my head a little. I couldn’t let this girl leave. I needed her to move in here, to help me learn my way through this. I still wanted to age, but I was also sure I wouldn’t be able to remember my family without her. I would be alone again, and they would be lost. I had to make her want to be here.
So I forced my voice to be bright, energetic. Fun Roommate. “I’m so sorry about that,” I chirped. “Listen, I bet you’d like a tour of the house.” I stood up, letting go of her hand and taking a step toward the hallway. Looking a little bewildered, Scarlett got up and followed me. “There’s this great story about the downstairs bathroom…” I began.
Sell-By Date: An Old World Short Story (A Scarlett Bernard Novel) Page 3
