Tumblefields [ONC 2021]

6

"Fais de ta vie un rêve, et d'un rêve, une réalité."
― Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

6

Without thinking, Rachel had walked all the way to the hospital. Leaving Jennifer felt wrong, but, under the circumstances, she decided it was for the best. Tabitha would care for her, that was Tabitha's thing. Rachel had never managed to show the compassion she felt for people, tending to hide her emotions with a dipped head and a fidget with anything at hand.

It was no wonder Jennifer considered her cold. Even now, she found it difficult to express how she felt. Gwendy was a shining aberration in the town. A gushing whirlwind of passion for almost everything. Never far from a grin, or an excited squeal at something that caught her attention. Always happy. Rachel had envied that.

Had.

Even though she knew Gwendy was gone, Rachel couldn't believe it, despite thinking about her in the past tense. She expected an ebullient phone call at any moment, detailing every fascinating thing she had found in the archives. Fascinating for her, but not, perhaps, for many others. Rachel already missed her so much.

Standing before the closed doors of the ICU, Rachel stared into the busy corridor beyond. Anton was in there, somewhere, laid in bed, damaged beyond imagination. No longer would the boy fight for a ball on a soccer field. Rachel doubted he would fight anything but his injuries for the rest of his life. She had only really got to know him for a few, fleeting hours. She missed him, too.

"You're the girl who came in with Anton." The voice from behind sounded tired and careworn.

Shuffling around, Rachel glanced at the tall woman and then had to look away. Anton shared many of the woman's features. The kind, intelligent eyes. The strong slope of the nose. His mother, Rachel presumed. The woman held a cardboard coffee cup between two hands as she looked at Rachel.

"Y ... yes. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry! I should have ..." Instinct forced Rachel to grip the edge of her sweater, thumb picking at the threads. "I should have helped."

"Oh, honey!" Despite her own problems and worries, the woman's face broke into a look of pure sympathy, reaching out an arm and pulling Rachel in for an embrace. "There was nothing you could do. I'm just thankful you didn't get hurt, too."

"I'm sorry." For the first time, the sheer scale of everything hit Rachel and tears began to flood from her eyes. In Anton's mother's arms, Rachel sobbed. "I'm just so sorry."

Minutes later, Rachel sat beside Anton's mother on seats in the corridor, hospital staff rushing by deep in their own thoughts and tasks. Wiping her tears with her sleeve, Rachel looked up to see another large clock on the wall, so similar to the one the day before. She turned her gaze to the polished floor.

"Do you know Anton well? I can't remember him mentioning someone as pretty as you." A hand smoothed over Rachel's tight curls and Rachel tried not to pull away. "I'm glad someone was with him when it happened. If he'd been alone, I ..."

"I only really started talking to him yesterday." Looking up, Rachel saw a faraway look in the woman's eyes. "He did say how wonderful you and his dad were when he came out to you."

"He told you?" Anton's mother gave a slow, impressed nod, her arm stretched across the back of the seats, legs crossed in an easy, relaxed fashion. "He must like you! He never tells anybody. It's 'none of their damned business', he likes to say."

The woman seemed sad and happy at the same time and Rachel admired her strength and warmth. If Rachel received a quarter of that warmth from her own mother, she'd wonder what she wanted. Anton's mother radiated that warmth with reckless abandon. Or so it seemed to Rachel. A sudden thought came to her and she reached behind, to her other pocket.