The Cygnet's Sun

Prologue

"Liam, honey, have you seen Olive?"

Liam seemed puzzled for a moment. It was really hard for a four-year-old to think about things that did't affect him much. He finally nodded, "She went that way."

The lady walked quickly, and finally she found Olive. In the fountain. In her dress. On her Aunt's wedding day as the flower girl, "Olive O'Malley, you get out of that fountain right this second or I will see to it that you don't get any cake." she warned, but Olive laughed, splashed water at her, and ran away.

So, it went well.

"Liam, honey, please go find Olive and tell her that this is really quite irritating and that she needs to get away from the photographer. It's very rude of her to hang on her like that." Liam nodded, but only half-listened.

He sort of waddled over to Olive, "Liv, you really shouldn't hang on the patog-crapper, it's not very nice." Olive stuck out her tongue to this, though, and continued on, looking around as the photographer took pictures of the area before the wedding. 

The woman came over then, and picked up Olive, "Alright, little girl. It's time for you to throw some petals. Remember what to do? You take these from the basket, and toss them on the floor as you walk. Got it?" Olive nodded. She'd practiced this many times, she had confidence she'd be fine. 

The music started to play, and everyone stood up. Olive, with her half-soaked dress, and freshly curled hair, and Liam, with the pillow and fake rings sat in the little red wagon, as Jack, Liam's older brother pulled them down the aisle. Olive was petrified. She had her hand in the basket, but it never left. Her eyes were bigger and greener than they'd ever been, and in that moment, she was terrified. 

Everyone was either laughing, or crying, and Olive was in a state of alexithymia- she didn't know how she felt, or how to explain it, and she definitely didn't know what do to. So she sat there, in her red wagon, and stared as people cried, and laughed and kissed, and wondered, "Why do people have to feel so much, all the time?" but she wondered it in simpler ways, because she was only three.

***

"Oh Olive, you were such a funny kid, you know? Always doing the weirdest things. One time, you decided skinny dipping at your fourth birthday party was a grand idea. Ah, the times when you were little. You were either funny and sweet or evil and clever. Then you became a teenager and I wanted to kill you just about every day." her grandmother told her. Olive laughed softly, but the kind of laugh that wasn't really amusing, rather just polite. She remembered her childhood, and feeling lost, and a little confused. She remembered not knowing which way was up sometimes and asking why things had to be the way they were. 

Olive smiled, "I remember feeling similarly throughout those years, actually, but I knew you were just doing it because you loved me," Olive said, but she couldn't have been sure then, and she wasn't sure now. Things had never been clear to Olive- she couldn't understand or see love, really. It wasn't that she didn't believe in it, it was just that she hadn't seen it. Or she didn't remember seeing it, anyway. 

"Mhm. Look at this-"