saudade

prologue

how does a moment last forever - kevin kline
"how can a story never die? It is love we must hold on to."

"Can you tell me the story again?" Gwendolyn was ten years old, as she lay beneath her blankets in an old warehouse on the outskirts of the main square of the Isle of the Lost. Her bedroom was a small curtain that divided the large area into one. Many families slept in the warehouse, cozying up in the thin beds, as they tried to gain warmth in the bitter winter.

Her mother Dorene smiled. She lay beside her daughter in the bed. She rested her head on her hand as her elbow dug into the flat pillow on the bed. Occasionally she would reach her opposite hand out to run her fingers through her daughter's dark brown hair. During those moments, Gwendolyn would close her eyes, hiding her forest green eyes behind her tan brown skin, the kind that made her look sunkissed even in the winter.

"Of course," Dorene said.

The story has been told thousands of times. From the moment Gwendolyn was born, when the baby couldn't understand the words of her mother, to that very moment where her daughter looked so big and yet so small compared to the world around her. Gwendolyn could recite the story, mouthing certain sentences as Dorene talked, but still loved it all the same.

"There once was a young girl. She was born poor in a small town, and one day she realized she never wanted to fall in love..."

A young Dorene sat at the edge of a lake. Her shoeless feet rested in the water and she could feel it brush over her toes as it traveled by, unaware, or filled with no care, as it made its way further and further away from her. Her eyes were closed as she listened to her younger sister drawl on about her latest dream.

"He was gorgeous," Lola exclaimed, her voice going into a high-pitched squeal.

"Are you sure?" Dorene asked, turning to Lola, "Maybe he was a troll disguised as a handsome man." Dorene reached out grabbing onto her sister's shoulders before shaking her wildly.

"Stop, Dory!" Lola whined, trying her best to push her older sister's hands away from her. "He was so real. His hair was a beautiful red color and his muscles weren't too big, but they weren't small either, and his smile. Don't get me started on his smile!"

Lola looked lovesick. Her eyes stared off at the horizon in a daze and every so often she brought her hands up to clutch over her heart like she could feel it beat out of her chest at the thought of the random man.

"He was so real," Dorene repeated in a fake lovey-dovey voice, "You sound insane."

Lola rolled her green eyes, the ones she matched with her sister, and glared. "Well when I meet him, get extremely rich, don't come asking me for money or relationship advice."

It was Dorene's turn to roll her eyes, "Trust me. If that's what falling in love is like, I don't want it."

When Gwendolyn turned eleven she asked for the story again. It was past her bedtime. She would usually go to bed once the cracked watch on her wrist hit nine o'clock, but it was still her birthday, and Dorene couldn't help but allow her daughter the one birthday gift she could guarantee on the Island they lived on.

Dorene lay in the same position she did every night as she brushed her daughter's hair out of her face and smiled down at her. Another year flew by and what once felt like an endless prison became easier the more she watched Gwendolyn grow. While most of the Isle ran rampant with their parents' influence and sinister lessons, Gwendolyn got to grow up semi-normal. Her daughter wasn't a complete damsel in distress. She knew how to fight and knew the best way to steal. Times were hard and Gwendolyn would help out as much as she could, even if her mother didn't want her to, but she grew up with a kind heart and Dorene's regrets had become lessons and she used them to help shape her daughter to be anything but bad.

"Years later, Lola was right. The man with the ginger hair showed up and he was rich. He showered Lola with gifts from the moment he met her and she gladly accepted them."

"We're getting married!" Lola yelled, pulling her prince behind her as she ran through the small wooden shack that they called their home.

Their father smiled at his youngest, pulling her into a hug and shaking the young man's hand. Dorene watched from the sidelines. She leaned against the hallway entrance that led to the two bedrooms in the house, her and Lola's room and their father's across from it.

Lola's smile stretched across her face like the Cheshire cat. Dorene had never seen Lola so happy and she couldn't help, but smile along with her. Her smile was contagious.

"Are you happy for me, Dory?"

Dorene looked between the prince–ginger hair, decently sized muscles, and the perfect pearly white smile to match his almost bride–and her sister–green eyes lit up like Christmas lights, long wavy brown hair brushed over her shoulder, and her tan arms clutching the hand of her lover. Dorene couldn't possibly say she wasn't happy for her sister. It was impossible not to be when she looked like that.

Once Dorene agreed, Lola squealed and jumped from her prince's arms to her sisters. She hugged her tight like it was the last time she would ever see her again.

Lola pulled away, her hands resting on Dorene's shoulders, "I'm so glad. All I want is for you to be happy for me."

When Gwendolyn was fourteen she no longer asked for the story.

Dorene would wait for her daughter. She would watch the warehouse door behind their curtain and past the other citizens of the Isle. Some nights, Gwendolyn would get home really late, her feet dragging across the floor and her shoulders sagging. Once she reached their shared bed, she'd throw her backpack haphazardly under the bed, and fall over the covers, instantly falling into a deep slumber without a word to her mother.

"Do you want to hear the story?" Dorene would ask, knowing her daughter wasn't listening.

Still, she would pull up the blankets over Gwen and recite the story from the beginning till the end. It wouldn't matter how tired Dorene grew, she repeated the story from memory and happily recited the good and bad moments.

"A week after Lola's wedding, I met your father."