Lavender Mist

A Happy Family

Maggie felt blind when she first opened her eyelids, letting the strong morning light suddenly fly into her eyes. She groaned and shook her head from one side to the other. She felt the cold pillowcase under the back of her neck, but couldn't hear it rustling as she was trying to move. Yet, still, no matter how hard it was for her to open her eyes and no matter how much she seemed stuck in her dream, she felt light and restful, as if her body was weightless.

Young and fragile, the daylight was drawing on the wall, slightly muffled by transparent tulle. The curtain was contently swaying by the window, carried by the soft wind, which Maggie couldn't sense on her unprotected skin. Over her legs, down to her knees, only a thin nightgown was falling, so pure and white, that, as it seemed, a single touch could tear it in two halves. The girl's face wasn't in a much darker colour than that material and she was surprised by the paleness of her arms and legs.

Synchronised with the curtain, the wind was also moving the healthy, white strands of Pablo's hair. He was sitting in the corner of the room, in a wooden chair, watching through the window. Maggie knew that she was supposed to feel surprised or scared, but she could find nothing, but a sense that she was at home. Everything was familiar and everything was in its place.

Pablo moved only after a few moments, which Maggie didn't know how to measure. The white chair creaked just because of his single head movement. He glanced over his shoulder, but it didn't look like he was staring directly at her. His eyes were visibly dropping down, although it was hard to see through the piercing sunrays, that were aiming at Maggie's face. She could, as well, see when he calmly smiled at her and turned back to the window.

"You are here...," she spoke. She wasn't sure if she could hear her own voice, or if she only imagined it. However, Pablo's response reassured her that she was truly talking.

"How do you feel?"

It took her a long time to think of what to say to his question, but she didn't rush herself, since, judging by his stillness, she knew that he could patiently wait forever if he had to.

"I don't know," she finally stated. It seemed that every quiet second was longer than the last one. "I'm not sure if I feel anything."

Pablo nodded his head. "I'm sure that you will feel something once."

The wind started unusually rustling. It sounded like the one on the beach, throwing the waves over the messy stones. However, the sound was too peaceful to imitate destruction and breaking of the water. Maggie thought that the conversation was over, but, from the pure curiosity, she decided to ask another question.

"Do you remember something?"

"I don't know," said Pablo, as if he was mimicking her last answer. "What do you recall?"

"I don't remember much."

That was the only sentence she could say with complete certainty, since she didn't know if there was really anything to remember. Was there anything before her awakening? Even her own name was estranged, as if she could take it into her hand, like a cold puddle of water, or as if she could throw it away from herself, so it would land at the other end of the room, forgotten and replaced by another, new one, equally as estranged. She got up from the bed with a surprising ease. She listened as she walked over the parquet, which didn't creak once. Her whiteness looked ill compared to Pablo's face, which had a healthy blush to it. He didn't even look at her hand, which cautiously and untamedly approached his head to remove the tangled bangs from the root of his nose. She didn't expect to feel Pablo's smooth strands, but they seemed to miss her fingertips, without even moving.

"Isn't it beautiful, that emptiness?," Pablo spoke as if he was talking in sleep. "Eternity can take its place. Everything and nothing at the same time. There is only one limit. That's it, Maggie. One barrier. You will soon forget that it's even there."