Blue as a Fedora

Epilogue

Four years later

***

The French roads slithered like snakes through the green, lively hills, trees standing proudly and waving lazily with the wind, rooted everywhere except on the deserted roads. Beautifully, French patterned lamp-posts stood beside the streets, ready to bring light to those below when night fell. Birds twittered to each other from up above, butterflies flew through the trees and the bright sun shone merrily through the almost tropical-like canopy up above. Every step she took she was thankful for, every breath a miracle, every sight a gift.

Malvina walked in the middle of the road, something she never did when she was younger. Oh, how times had changed. It didn't matter though; the place had changed so little. Everything was exactly as Malvina remembered.

She was quite alone, Malia and Papa elsewhere. For a moment she clung onto the bright necklace bouncing happily upon her chest and closed her eyes, re-living everything that had happened...

Milan had been lovely, it really had, but it was also a place of nightmares. Literal nightmares. There were very few nights where Malvina didn't wake up sweating in her foreign bed, sobbing in hysterics from the dream she had had, where she returned to the horrors she had been through, where she had returned to that horrible place...

It wasn't like Malia and Papa were any better; they experienced these dreams as well. And they had fought. Oh, Malia and Papa had had shouting matches almost every night. Malvina remembered those nights so well... the nights where she lay in bed, holding her hands to her ears like she was five, sobbing as the shouting only got louder. It had been a long, long time before Malia truly forgave Papa.

Every time Malvina thought of Milan, she thought of her nightmares, and it set a sort of horror into the innocent town. At her new school, she acted normal and calm, though on the inside she was craving a home she knew she wouldn't see in so long. And it was slowly killing her, day after day, night after night.

The suffering of four years was so difficult that it's impossible to put into words, though Malvina forced herself through it. Each day meant a day closer to the end of the war, and the beginning of a new, free life. The years dragged themselves on unforgivably, the war never seeming to stop, another outbreak every day, another force, another terror.

Though it was in the third year of all this when, finally, Papa told his daughters that he predicted that the end was near. The end of the war. They were getting closer. It was only a year later when his prediction came true; Hitler had committed suicide, Germany had lost and Europe was free. After this, the US sent the strongest war weapon in history on Japan, ending the war in South East Asia.

And then the day came when it was announced on the news that camps had been discovered around Germany and Poland. Dreadful camps. Camps of death. Camps of torture. Camps that weren't supposed to exist, for their existence was so inhumane and disgusting that it stained the wellbeing of human life, of human history. Malvina remembered the day quite well. Almost no-one believed that the camps were real at first, even after being shown undeniable proof. The imagery on the screen was immensely disturbing to Malvina, who still refused to stop looking. She had to stay home from school that day, and cried for hours upon hours on her bed, both from happiness and misery.

She knew it was silly, and she knew it was probably all in the mind, but that's why Malvina didn't tell anybody about it. About her necklace. Her lovely 'm' necklace given to her by her lovely friend, a lovely boy who only wanted to better the world. Who was most certainly dead. Yes, it was silly, but Malvina felt that if it hadn't been for the necklace, she would've turned insane in Milan. She might've even killed herself, which she considered on countless nights. Her necklace somehow helped and eased her through the pain and she didn't know why, she just knew it did. It was a gift beyond any she'd be given, and it was perfect. She owed it so much, so, so much. And that was why she was doing what she was doing now.

Malvina opened her eyes, the last four years passing by in a blink of an eye, to find herself back in the roads of Albas. She was quite alone, specifically because of her necklace.

When Papa, Malia and Malvina had returned to Albas (by the train, of course) and started walking up through the hills, Malvina was struck by a sudden idea. Although she simply couldn't wait to visit her home after all these years, she knew she had to do this now. She told Malia and Papa that she'd meet them at home, but first she needed to go elsewhere in the hills. She turned on the left street while they had turned on the right.

And that leads to the present, where she was right now, smiling at the scene around her as she continued strolling through the streets, admiring everything she saw. Perhaps it didn't make her cry, seeing these lovely hills again, but it did touch her deeply within her heart, something shifted, moved, memories recollected, happiness spread through her soul.

It wasn't a long walk, Malvina knew. She continued strolling until she turned a corner and was met with a lovely scene: a group of houses together like a small suburb. Sitting at the front, untouched for so many years, was the house of a dear friend.

Peter's house.

Malvina paused her walking for just a moment. She could almost see the guards taking Peter and his family to the train station, as if they were really there. For a second the world seemed to become dark again; the war had returned...

But the moment passed, and Malvina smiled faintly to herself again. No one was going to harm her. She was here to do one duty.

She stepped towards the home and checked to see if the door was locked. It was not. She opened it, entering a home that had been uninhabited since the near beginning of the war.

The place was dusty, but other than that it was neat and pretty, how Peter's mother always kept it. How she had ultimately left it. A wooden, cute table sat in the middle of the living room, the minute kitchen close by. The white walls' paint was beginning to peel and a chair lay on the floor, perhaps hit down from the conflict that had happened so long ago. Through the window shone the weak rays of sun, showering the room in a kind of thin mist, making everything seem so magical so suddenly.

Malvina scanned the room, reliving yet more memories; happy memories of when she was younger and had gone to Peter's house for lunch or dinner, played games with him and made up stories together in the living room right up ahead. The Malvina from those years wasn't so connected to the Malvina of now. It was almost like it was a different person.

Almost.

Malvina looked at the wooden chair sitting next to the small, circular table in front of her, where they had all eaten dinner together. The mist created by the sun hung around the room, making Malvina feel like she was in a fairy-tale of sorts. Yes, the chair would be perfect...

She moved through the room until she was directly in front of the chair. Thought after thought was whizzing through her head, but she knew deeply in her heart that what she was doing was right. It was time to let go.

Carefully, with the delicacy of someone handling a crown, Malvina slowly lifted the shining, bright, amazing necklace off of her neck and over her head. She held it in front of her, it's colours rebounding off every surface in sight.

More gently still, Malvina bent down and lowered the necklace upon the seat and wrapped the necklace around it. It lay bare around the top of the seat as Malvina let go of it.

Something inside her seemed to change. She slowly stood back up and, in those short seconds, the young, innocent, happy Malvina finally left. Her last object of refuge handed away, she was now completely alone, but she was ready. She was no longer confused about who she was, no longer holding a confusing and scary connection with her past. She was herself, and she was free.

She stood back up, admiring the beautiful necklace. It sat innocently and beautifully upon the chair. The mist from the window was making the necklace very happy; it shone its colours as brightly as ever around the entire room, more colours than Malvina had ever seen in her life, the 'm' moving ever so slightly in the weak breeze. It seemed that the necklace had finally found its final resting place.

Malvina gave her necklace one last look, then she turned and paced towards the door, opening, exiting, and not looking back. If she could do anything to help the boy who had helped her through so much pain, she felt that this was the only way to do it. Maybe he wasn't here anymore, but that didn't mean that it was too late.

She was back in the blazing sunlight, standing outside in the beautiful hills, though she didn't stand to wait this time. She walked, quite steadily, away from Peter's home, back onto the road, taking the route she still knew so well after all this time. The route that would lead directly to her home.

She was back in front of the secret path to her home before she knew it. Although she knew she wasn't her younger self anymore, she couldn't help but giggle like a child at the sight of this wild path. The next thing she knew, she was playfully running through the path, heart beating with anticipation, her head hitting branches and her arms getting scratched, but who cared? She already had hideous scars, and her prison numbers were still inked into her skin. Who cared about some little scratches?

And there it was. Malvina stopped running, and looked in front of her. Home. Her house. It didn't look any different. It looked as perfect as ever. The many windows on the kitchen walls, the creative architecture, the rather overgrown front-yard. She could hear Malia and Papa inside. She couldn't wait another second. She sprinted full-out to the front door and opened it to see what would await her inside.

A kind of relief seemed to purse through her entire being as she looked at her home. The house wasn't entirely clean, but the sun was still shining through the windows, casting everything with a bright, happy ray of hope. The living room was in front of her, the kitchen to the side and the door to her bedroom so close by. She was here. She was really here. She was finally here. For countless nights it seemed it would be impossible and, for the worst days of her life, she was certain she'd never be here again, but here she was. Alive. Healthy. Safe, and still with a part of her family. She was safe! She hadn't felt like this in so long. She actually felt secure, and she felt that nothing was going to hurt her. Not for so long had she ever felt like that.

Papa was in the kitchen, cleaning all the bowls and plates and all the utensils that had always been kept in the drawers. He looked happier than Malvina had ever seen him in so long. He turned at the sound of Malvina entering the house.

"A little bit home-sick, I expect," he said with a smile. Malvina started to laugh and ran towards her Papa for a great, big hug.

"I love it," Malvina whispered to Papa. "I want to stay here forever."

He gave a small chuckle, and then released Malvina.

"I put your luggage there," he added, pointing to the door, where Malvina's luggage lay. She remembered how they always kept their school bags there after school.

"Thanks, Papa," Malvina said, then she went to get her bags and left to go to her bedroom.

She opened the door, and waves of memories hit her as she peered inside her bedroom. Three beds sat side by side in a small, neat room with one window, posters behind each bed, giving each one a personality, showing different people slept in each one. Malvina remembered those nights where they'd ask Papa a question and he'd have to answer it. Those memories seemed to cast a warm light in Malvina that would never be blown out, no matter what.

In the bedroom also stood Malia, her back to Malvina, unpacking her bags and placing her clothes on her bed. She turned at the sound of an opening door and gave Malvina a watery smile; she had been crying.

"Hi Malia," Malvina said gently, closing the door and moving towards her older sister. "We're... we're finally here."

"Yeah," Malia whispered. She then turned to look behind her. Malvina saw where she was looking; she was gazing at the bed in the middle of the room, the smallest bed, the bed that once belonged to Ella.

"Don't be sad," Malvina said to Malia, who turned back around. "You know what I do? When I feel like things are so bad they'll never get better? I think of happy things. Of happy memories. And now, whenever I look at that bed, I'm going to remember the happy, fun times I had with her. I'm going to remember the things we did together, and I'm going to smile every time I see that bed."

More tears fell down Malia's eyes, though she was smiling at Malvina, a smile of such proudness and admiration.

"Malvina," she said quietly, "it's not – it's not just that. I wish that... I wanted..."

"I know," said Malvina gently. Malia watched her with wet but still steady eyes. "He may not be here, but he'd be thrilled. You've made it Malia. You've made it home. And with that, I think he can finally rest, rest in complete peace." 

In a second, Malvina's entire view was covered by nothing but hair as Malia hugged her sister firmly, holding her dearly to herself, like those nights in Milan when neither of them could sleep. Malvina hugged back, feeling at peace, feeling hopeful, feeling like things may just be alright.

"I love you," Malia whispered to Malvina.

"I love you too," Malvina whispered back, "and I'm not going anywhere. We're going to live with each other for the rest of our lives, whether we like it or not."

Malia gave a shaky laugh, then released her younger sister, her eyes wet but wearing a smile of pure happiness.

"I'll let you get to your packing," she said shakily, returning to her clothes.

"Actually, there's just one thing I want to do first," Malvina said. Malia looked confused as Malvina stared wistfully out the window.

"I need to see the backyard," Malvina said, starting to leave the room. "It's been far too long, hasn't it?"

"It has," Malia laughed shakily. Malvina left the room and closed the door gently.

She crossed the living room and, her heart pumping with excitement, though her body oddly calm, Malvina slid open the door, the cool breeze gently playing with her face, the backyard laid out in front of her.

She couldn't believe it. It looked almost the exact same as how she remembered. Perhaps it was because the backyard had always been wild, since it opened up to the hills, that any overgrowing went unnoticed. Yet still, the tranquil, coloured flowers sat neatly and silently upon the little field of the backyard, the grass still short and neat, the world cosy and peaceful.

Malvina stepped down the stone steps, again reliving memories she hadn't even known existed. She could almost see her younger self jumping down the steps that she was walking down, running around the backyard happily and excitedly, chasing butterflies and jumping up to try catch the birds. And the tree! The tree she always took refuge to when she was scared, or angry or annoyed. It was right there! To the right! Malvina gave another shaky laugh.

Her feet finally met the soft, welcoming grass, and she walked past the grass and the flowers, the bees buzzing merrily around her, the insects crawling through the bright grass, the sun blazing from behind a cloud. She was standing in the middle of the backyard and for a moment, everything was perfect; everything was peaceful, as more memories came rushing to her. All the pain of these horrible years disappearing in flashes. She closed her eyes. Home. She was home. She took a deep breath, happy, extremely happy, that she was alive.

But then suddenly she opened her eyes and turned sharply around. How could she have possibly forgotten? But then again, how could she have remembered? A metre or so behind her was a lovely, purple flower, a little taller than the rest. Malvina instantly recognised it as lavender.

Ella.

Immediately, Malvina ran to the shed by the side of the house and found the shovel, then she ran all the way back. She gently plucked the flower from the grass and placed it behind her, then she began digging, vigorously digging. The backyard seemed to come to life as she dug; the sounds of the breeze grew tremendously, the sun shone brighter than ever and the flutter of a butterfly's wings seemed louder than those of an eagle, the scurrying of ants across the earth sounding like the stomps of giants. Malvina dug harder than ever, hardly daring to draw breath, not knowing what she'd do once she saw what was there.

It felt like barely five seconds later when her shovel hit upon something in the ground. Malvina threw the shovel aside and dug with her hands, finally finding what she and her two sisters had dug into the earth long ago. Malvina unearthed it, picking it up with her dirty hands, scrapping off the dirt and grime that had fallen upon it. The cardboard box was as lumpy as ever, but it was there. After all these years, it had never left.

Before, Malvina had been scurrying and rushing, full of energy, but now, she was as still as a cloud, as silent as a shadow. She turned back around and placed the box to the floor, and opened it.

Inside was a pencil, which was sitting on top of a paper filled with writing. Malvina gently picked up the paper and saw her writing, her own writing from when she was younger, laid bare in front of her:

I hate how everything is a mess and how everyone is acting as if everything's okay. I hate war and bad things, like any normal person.

Malvina gave a shaky laugh. She vividly remembered how she felt writing that. Confused. Scared. She just wanted a way out of what she was feeling. It didn't stop there, though:

Okay, well apparently there are people out there that DISAGREE. Why? I don't know. Everything is stupid, and everyone is stupid. Peter. I miss Peter. And I miss when life was normal, when Papa wasn't always stressed and working, and school was fun and everyone was always there. I miss home. When will I come back home?

Malvina then read the next paragraph, which she realised was a message to future self:

Hello future me. The war's over then? That's great. It's happening for me, and it sucks. I hope everything turns out okay. I also hope that it doesn't get any worse. If it does, then hey, you're reading this, so you survived! That's better than either of us could've hoped for! I don't know who or what you've lost, but whatever has happened, please don't make it keep you down...

She really had been a different person. Malvina was smiling, though she was also beginning to sob. She covered her hand with her mouth as she continued to read. She was right. She was alive. That was better than she could've hoped for. Reading these words was like reading the words of a younger sibling; a clueless one, who seemed to have no outlet for their confined rage. Underneath this was Malia's writing, completely in English, but it was so minuscule that Malvina doubted she could've read it anyway.

Malvina turned the paper around and almost gasped aloud, as she saw neat, small handwriting that she knew could belong to no one else but Ella:

Many people think that war is a terrible thing, and it is, though it's not always so terrible. War brings out the worst in many, while bringing out the best in others. It tests our ability to survive, to hope and to believe. It tests our strength and our courage. It's just such a shame that so many people must live through a war to discover the best in themselves. It's such a shame that I am likely among these people too.

I don't know who's reading this right now, but I congratulate whoever it is, for surviving a war! Undoubtedly, we have scars that run deep, but who we are doesn't depend on how deep these scars are; it's how we chose to heal them.

Okay, since the end of the war is so far away, I don't know if I'm still alive anymore. If I'm not, I'd like to say this to my two older sisters: I love you so, so much, and you've made me feel wanted and deserved. I love you so much that I love you to Pluto and back a million, billion times. I love you so much that it's embarrassing. You guys are truly the best!

Okay, Malia's starting to dig the hole, so I'm assuming I'll have to cut this short. If you are a stranger reading this, then what is written on here isn't very important. It is simply the ramblings of three little girls. Alright, I really must leave now, but goodbye, and good luck!

Tears weren't enough to express how Malvina felt reading these words. She clutched onto the paper and held it dearly, as if hugging it, almost like it was Ella. She closed her eyes, the words she had just read rebounding around her mind, warming her heart and easing her soul...

Then she opened her eyes, looking back at the world, which looked back. The same words replaying in her head. Who we are doesn't depend on how deep these scars are; it's how we chose to heal them.

"I love you too, Ella," Malvina whispered.

And the breeze waved by, calm and beautiful, the trees stood tall and proud in front of her and the sky was baby blue and surreal. In that moment, Malvina never felt so happy to be alive, to exist, and to feel. Maybe she'd never be normal again, maybe she'd relive horrible memories forever, but, Malvina knew, just because Hell existed on Earth, it didn't mean that Heaven could not, too.