First Love, First War, First Step |√|

Aunt

There are moments when I wonder what I will tell that joyful little girl with her cyan eyes and long brown locks.  Times when I wonder how I will tell her of her father's death, her mother's struggle to hide her, my betrayal, and how much they both sacrificed so she could grow up in peace.

That little girl christens me with a title I feel like I don't deserve most days.  She comes screaming into the house, "Aunt Meara, Aunt Meara!"

The very fact that we are the only two of our family left fills me with guilt.  The idea that Luke and Ilania will never hear that voice echo through the house, never hear the words "Mom" or "Dad" pass her lips.

Most nights after she has managed to tire herself out enough to sleep, I sit at the kitchen table in our silent home and finger through the memories Ilania left for her daughter.

The photographs of my brother and her laughing together, the videos of them together and the one she stole with his interrogation.  The letters that she wrote, as if she knew she wouldn't live to see her daughter grow into a woman.

At the bottom of the box is tucked a tiny baby outfit, made out of shimmering sea-colored fabric.  Underneath it is the birth certificate.

Lucia Meara
Born to: Ilania Penny and Luke Henry

I finger that worn piece of paper, wondering who filled it out.  Was it the widow, who Lucia fondly called Grandma Anna, or was it Ilania herself, fingers trembling when she penned the name of the daughter Luke never got to meet?

Once that little girl grew to six, she started to ask why it was just the two of us, why she lived with her aunt and not her parents.

That day, I dressed her in somber black and took her out to the graves of her parents, where they laid side-by-side in death.  The flowers were still fresh from the day a week ago when I visited them.

She knelt at the grave site with me, cyan eyes fixed on the names carved onto the simple tombstone that had replaced the one that the former government had placed over my brother.

She watched as I reached out a shaky hand and traced the curves of Luke's name, wishing that one of the two of them were there to do the difficult job for me.

Selfishly, I wished that Ilania had left the job of taking out her father and everyone else that day to someone else.  I wanted to lean on her calm strength, something that I had lost the day I realized that I was the aunt and guardian of a child.

"Aunt Meara," Lucia's voice whispered next to me, "are these my parents?"

I nodded silently, fingers still splayed across the cold stone of the tombstone.

"Why are they here instead of home with us?"

Managing to remove my hand from the granite monument, I reached for her, heart aching at how much she reminded me of both of them.

"They died, Lucia, in the war," I muttered.  "Your father didn't know that you existed until right before he died, and your mother left you with Anna, so that she wouldn't lose the last thing she had of him."

Her long lashes hid her eyes from me, but I knew that she was trying to understand what I was saying.  She knew of the war, but this was the first time that she had even started to comprehend what it had taken away from her.

"Do you miss them, Aunt Meara?" Lucia asked at last in the innocent way that all children do.

My throat contracted as I remembered Luke's bloody body lying in public view with Ilania weeping over him, as I remembered Ilania holding my arm, flames licking at her body.

"Everyday, Lucia," I finally said, blinking back tears.  "There are moments when I turn to tell one of them something before realizing they're not there."

My niece wrapped her arms around me.  "It's okay to cry sometimes.  I never really knew them, and I miss them both."

I bent my head over her, wishing that I could shield her from the horrors that had torn our world apart only five years ago.  I wished that she would never find out my hand in her parents' deaths.

After I had tucked her into bed that night, I found Matthew at my door, pack slung over his back.

"I'm leaving, Meara," he said simply, leaning against my door frame.  "I thought that you deserved to know that much before I disappeared."

My breath caught in my throat.  "Where will you go?"

The former Igniters leader shrugged.  "I don't know yet.  There has to be more people that survived the Infernos, and I intend to find what they left behind, whether it be civilization or mere bones."

I stared into his light eyes, seeing how they had changed with the horrors that we had all seen.  Much like I had decided to seclude myself from the public's eye as much as possible, Matthew had made this choice because he couldn't continue living like everything was the same.

"I wish you luck then," I managed to whisper, biting my lip to keep from asking him to stay.

In an unexpected move, he reached over and wrapped me in a tight embrace.  Locked in his arms, I was reassured that someone else was suffering as much as I was even after five years.

"Goodbye, Meara," Matthew muttered after a long moment.  "I hope our paths cross again."

He squeezed my forearms lightly before turning on his heel and walking out into the abandoned street.  I stood there for a long moment until he was no longer in view.

Ilania once said that her story was a series of firsts.

I had laughed at her at the time, but I realized that she was right.  All of our stories were series of firsts.

My first time watching a family member die.

My first time meeting Ilania.

My first meeting with the Igniters.

My first heart skip when I met Matthew.

My first heartbreak.

My first betrayal.

My first time as the guardian of a niece I didn't know.

Barely holding onto the door, I fell to my knees that night, wondering how I was ever going to make it through the rest of my life without any kind of support.

I was shattered from inside out, and I only hoped that I could hold on for Lucia.

Because she was the only reason I was still above the ground and not buried beneath next to the rest of my family.