The Inside Diaries

Aralia

Soon enough, their time had come to a close. Hearing a buzz from her phone, Melanija checked her messages. Morgana.

Can you meet me on the corner near the hibiscus stop sign? Picking Tory up.

Gathering the myriad bits and scraps of paper, the two cleaned up and set off to the stated location, duffel bag and all, where a certain auburn curly-haired woman was waiting.

"I'm so sorry to spring this on you on such short notice—leave it to Matias—" the woman sniffed, hugging Tory toward her.

"No problem. Tory's a sweetheart—"

Morgana raised an eyebrow, suspicious. Really?

"She was very well-behaved," Melanija continued, glancing at the girl. "Right Tory?" The child nodded, emphatically so. "We went swimming, had tea time, gave her the run of the plateau park, visited a cultural center, did more walking, a nap, origami—"

"No wonder," laughed the older woman. "You're young. Spry. You did well, tiring her out." Tory ran ahead. "Wish her aunt could, it's just such a shame—" Morgana muttered, Melanija leaning closer to hear the tail end of her sentence.

Why? She studied the auburn woman's visage for answers. What aren't you telling me?

"Her parents suffered untimely demise, and her aunt's been raising her, but is now expecting triplets. Triplet boys—and she's easily winded, can't chase after Tory much to begin with. She's seen the mischief—and genius—of the girl, and can't keep up, physically or...however."

Melanija frowned. "What's her plan then?"

"She reached out to me since I do foster placements. Along with everything else child, mother, magic-related on these isles. She agreed after a long conversation today, that Tory needed someone who could give her undivided attention, and the best possible start in life."

They continued to pass each plumeria and azalea bush, gardenias too, meeting Tory some feet later as she took each of their hands, swinging back and forth, giggling, before darting even further ahead. Luckily, this stretch was all pedestrian walkway, the road having been closed off—temporarily or permanently, who could tell?

"That can't have been easy," Melanija remarked upon reflection. "I mean, I know Tory's...high-energy...but placement seems...extreme—"

Morgana nodded. "I thought so at first. But then I realized the woman operated on fumes, had a medical condition of her own that made it near-impossible to keep up with the girl. She thought a girl was easy enough, but after waking up to all her flour on the floor, Tory making snow angels at six in the morning—the sheer noise from jumping, literally bouncing off the walls at midnight—her anguished cries pre-dawn in the very beginning—"

Melanija cringed. That would've been difficult, even in the best of households.

The three approached a glass house, vaguely Asiatic in appearance with its Japanese-influenced windows shaped like those carved doors of yore. It looked to be a glamorous, chic home, though Melanija noticed the front garden was empty. No time to add flowers in this household. Stepping inside, they made their way to the kitchen for a cool glass of water. It was a beautiful, if not somewhat cramped, space, the top timber shelves laden with Ming Aralia ferns and other tropical potted plants, high enough out of children's reach as to not pose a hazard.

And were those—?

"Three grey Scottish terriers?" Morgana sighed. "Yes. I'm watching them, it's a long story—"

Melanija smiled. "They're cute—achoo!" Ugh, even in this world, her dog allergies persisted.

"Bless you—I'll move them outdoors—here—" Morgana swung the kitchen door open to the fenced-in yard before turning back to her. "They'll be good for the next half hour."

Realizing the home seemed quiet and otherwise devoid of adult presence, Melanija paused. "Where's Tory's aunt, anyways?"

"Hospital. The poor dear. Bedrest and monitoring. Three babies, can you imagine? As if one weren't challenging enough—"

"Wow," breathed Melanija. Then a thought occurred to her. "I think I know a couple. Magical. Lesbian. Dating, but getting serious. One's an animal rights attorney, the other's a potions genius. And I think they'd be a perfect fit."

Morgana beamed. "Go on..."

"Well..." Melanija paused. "We need to put everything in place first. Her sister's showing up this weekend to claim the condo—" Whoops, almost forgot about that too. "So one thing at a time."

Tory peeped around the corner, empty duffel bag in hand. "Want one, Melanija? My aunt makes lots of these—"

"Are you sure?" Melanija stepped closer, taking the bag in her arms. Sturdy, solid, lightweight, enough to carry items cross-continentally, instantaneously so—"actually, can I have three? I'll pay you—" She fished out what she deemed a reasonable amount as the girl squealed. "Consider this your early birthday money, mmmk?"

"What do you say, Tory?" Morgana regarded the child. Manners, first and foremost.

"Thankyouthankyouthankyouuuuuu!" Tory sprinted upstairs, hair flying, returning mere seconds later with the stated items, as the transaction took place.

"Use it toward college, or something, or a unicorn plushie," Melanija said, as Tory placed the bills in her piggy bank, hidden behind a handful of books in the living room. Whatever kids spend stuff on these days.

After bidding Morgana and Tory goodbye (Morgana was keeping an eye on Tory during her aunt's hospital stay), she walked back to her own home of sorts, not before stopping by Epicenter Pico No. 23, laying the duffel bags on the doorstep, tucked in to avoid being rained on, even though it hardly even monsooned in these parts. A welcome gift for the new owner.

Marcella Yesenia.

Dusk turning to twilight, her fingers skated the glowing tea lights that blossomed amid the yellow-speckled plumeria. These night walks were nothing like those of her past, hesitant and ever-wary, checking behind her shoulder for villains. No, these were an altogether lovelier, calmer, serene sort. She smiled to herself, feeling as though the island itself were embracing her innermost soul.