We'll meet again Evelyn Rosewood

So close and yet so far

Picture a funeral. A funeral placed on a cloudy day of 1937. Two people are standing in front of the freshly dug grave. A tall boy and a little girl standing next to him.

The boy had a long, black coat on him. The girl had long, wavy hair, and a beige coat that was too big for her.

The girl was gripping her brother's arm and sobbing while looking at the final resting place of their mother. Her brother, stoned and speechless, stared at the ground, feeling restless and in deep grief. They were now parent less.

Wind blew at his face, he wanted to sit down and sob his broken heart out, but he didn't. He kept it to himself.

Picture a train station. A big train station in London. That same boy is standing opposite the same girl. It was cold, the wind was blowing hard.

The girl had a suitcase in her hand, the same big coat and an angry reflection in her eyes. Her brother stepped to hug her, but she moved and faintly told him, "Leave me alone." After a pause she added, "That's the best thing you can do, anyways."

Fast forward about 2 years, the boy was on the same train station. He was waiting for that same girl to come.

As the girl stepped off the train, her eyes met his, a mix of emotions she couldn't yet explain washed over her. In reality, she felt a mix of nervousness, resentment and curiosity all at once. It had been years since they last saw each other.

"Hello, Maria." The boy, now grown up a bit more, smiled lightly, happy to see her.

"John..." she said faintly, revealing the guarded walls she had built around herself.

She was still hurt by being sent away, and the pain lingered in her heart. John, sensing the tension, tried to bridge the gap by reaching out for a hug.

However, Maria's reaction both did and didn't surprise him. She moved away, avoiding the embrace, and instead extended her hand for a handshake. It was as if she wanted to keep a distance and a sense of formality between them.

John realized the magnitude of the task ahead.

"You've grown so much," he stated.

"You did not," she said shortly. Her every word was like a stab. It was like she held knives with her tongue.

As the conversation between them unfolded (if we could call it one), the tension in the air became clearly visible.

"It would be pleasant if you helped me carry my luggage. I think auntie wants me to stay more than just a week, given the stuff she told me to pack." Maria stated coldly.

He spoke, still trying to have a normal conversation, "Well, you're always welcome."

She sarcastically reacted to his words. "What a delight."

"You know, we could play Bridge when we get home. Remember how we used to..." he couldn't finish.

"I'm not 10, John. I don't play cards anymore."

"Well, that's a shame."

After a long, awkward walk Maria and John stood outside his building. Maria finally broke the silence, her voice laced with frustration, "Give me that luggage, I can carry it myself," she said it in a hard accent.

John, taken aback by her sudden independence, reported, "Well, excuse me, miss. I thought you were the one who asked for me to help ya. Sucks for you, I'll just have to sit back and watch the show."

With a determined look on her face, Maria struggled to carry her luggage up the stairs. John, conflicted between wanting to help and wanting to prove a point, watched her struggle from a distance. They reached his humble flat, and he unlocked the door, inviting her inside.

Maria glanced around, her tone laced with sarcasm, "Fancy," she remarked, indicating his modest surroundings.

John feeling a bit of pride and offence, said, "Thanks, Mimi, I'm trying."

"Don't call me that ever again. I'm not 12 years old," she said strictly.

Then he snapped a bit, "Fine, Maria. If you want to be sensitive about it, we should reevaluate all of this. I'm already tired of walking on eggshells around you."

She just looked at him with a blank, cold, heartless stare that sent shivers down his spine.

John and Maria, with their strikingly similar features, often found themselves in the midst of heated arguments. Both possessed a short temper that could ignite at the slightest provocation, that also had a soft spot for certain people.

Their physical resemblance only seemed to amplify the intensity of their disagreements. With deep brown eyes gazing at each other, it was as if they were looking into a mirror, reflecting not just their shared appearance but also their shared stubbornness. The light brown hair, often described as the epitome of classic English hair, framed their faces, which were pale as ghosts when anger coursed through their veins.

It was a peculiar dynamic, how two individuals who looked so alike could possess such explosive tempers. Their arguments would often escalate quickly, fueled by their mutual impatience and sharp tongues. Sarcasm and biting remarks flew back and forth, each trying to outdo the other with their quick wit and cutting words.

Growing up in Liverpool, they were surrounded by a community that valued resilience and strength. For example, if you shed a tear about something, you would be mocked about it. So, John and Maria adopted this mindset, learning to keep a strong front, even when they were hurting inside.

This upbringing shaped their interactions and how they dealt with conflict. Rather than openly expressing their pain or frustrations, they would often resort to anger as a defense mechanism.

But beneath that rough exterior, there was still a deep longing for connection and understanding between the two.

John always had a deep admiration for his little sister. He found her funny and witty, but given the circumstances, he always felt a strong urge to grow up as fast as he could. That just made him grow apart from her.

As the evening settled in, John and Maria sat down to have dinner. The atmosphere was thick and awkward, making it difficult for them to find the right words to break the tension. Finally, John mustered up the courage to speak.

"I have to run an errand tomorrow morning. You can stay alone for an hour or two, can you?" his voice was slightly hesitant.

Curiosity piqued, Maria couldn't help but inquire, "What kind of errand?"

John hesitated for a moment, trying to find a right way to respond. "Well, it's sort of a walk," he admitted, the uncertainty evident in his voice.

"A walk with who, may I ask?" Maria asked.

John, sighed, realizing that she isn't going to let the subject go. "With a close friend of mine."

"George?" she asked.

"No."

"Alf? Pete?"

"No..." he stopped for a second. "Her name is..." He saw Maria's face in confusion as soon as he said 'she'. "Nevermind. Why do you even care?" he closed the theme.

Maria was taken aback by this. Her brother? With a girl? Since when?

"Then, I suppose it's not an errand after all," she stated.

"You're right," he said. "I suppose it's not."

So, it got late, and Maria fell asleep, knowing that it won't be an easy week.

Idk why but I'm really drawn to Maria as a character. I kind of get her.
But I want to hear your opinion, my dear reader, so feel free to write.
All my love,
Evelyn Rosewood ;)