Thinking Of You

Rosemary

“Mom, why'd you name me 'Rosemary Kanaya'?” I asked her one time while she read a book on our sofa, and I stopped sketching on my notebook that Dad gave me for my sixth birthday last month.

Her eyes strayed away from the tome she was reading to look at me and had smirked. “Truthfully, I was going to name you just 'Kanaya', but then I remembered this 'Rosemary' name from a friend with temper issues, when he had randomly asked about it after he woke up and I thought the two names sounded nice together.”

I rarely saw her smile and not smirk.

Twice, I did. When she was folding this black shirt with some green logo on the front. I always saw that shirt, but no one ever wore it.

“Kanyaya,” my little sister Roxy blurted out. Unlike me, she had blonde hair like Mom. Mine was quite black and all. We were seated on the floor just killing time.

Mom had placed the book she was reading aside and turned to us. She smiled. “It's 'Kanaya', dear. She was my best friend. Would you like to hear about her?”

Gasp! A chance of learning new information? Oh, noodles of intense curiosity! “Sure, Mom. If you're sure you want to tell us.” Please tell us. Oh, please do.

She had gracefully sat down on the carpet in front of us with that same smile dangling on her lips. “I guess you two have the right to know, since you are my children.” she paused.

I always hated suspense. Why couldn't people just get on with it?

Her legs crossed. “Your Dad, me, Jade, and Dave played a game once. Did John tell you about that?”

I nodded. “A little.”

“Just a little, yeah.” Roxy agreed.

Mom picked a green crayon from the one scattered and had started on the notebook I was drawing in a while ago. “During the game, I met this girl. Not just any girl per se. She was quite pretty and seemed always meddlesome. But, there was something about her...” she trailed off.

My eyes grew wide when her hand sketched a face with sparkling eyes a shade lighter than mine from the crayon she chose, short spiky hair that reminded me of a vampire's cape, two pointed teeth overlapping her bottom lip from opposite sides, and horns on the side of her head. I never knew Mom could draw so well. The girl she drew was pretty.

After she was done, she just stared at her drawing while she talked. “Her name was Kanaya Maryam. She was my matesprit. Basically, we loved each other with all our heart back then. It's been a long time since I saw her though, and I probably never will.”

My Mom liked a girl? … That's okay I guess. At least she was opening up now. I would try to process it later. “What happened?”

She took a purple crayon now and started sketching again, beside the first one. “After the game ended, she told me to come here to Earth and leave her on her planet far away from here because she wanted us to fulfill our responsibilities. I didn't want to at first, trying to persuade her to let me stay, and then at some point, I thought of the idea of her coming to Earth with me instead.”

The second drawing was her own face, but with shoulder-length hair like mine. It looked... sad. I realized both drawings did. “But I had waited too long to mention it and she had said goodbye before I could tell her. All I remember was that I just stood there unable to move after she had ran away from me, and I had never felt so worthless because I thought she didn't want me. So I'm here, because it was what she wanted. She died though. Eight years ago.”

“So you left her and had me and Roxy instead?”

She placed the crayons on the floor. “Yes.”

“But you still love her, right? Even until now?” I asked my Mom as I stared at her face.

She looked at me. “What makes you think so?”

“I see it in your eyes whenever you say my name “Kanaya”, when you're calling me, or when Dad or Uncle Dave and Aunt Jade does.”

Her hands came up to cover her mouth and water started falling from her eyes. It caught me off guard because I never saw her cry before. Dad had said that Mom never let weakness take over her. What was wrong with being vulnerable though? Now I realized it somehow felt wrong to see a strong person do so. She probably thought no one would notice that she still had feelings for someone she liked a lot.

“I'm... I'm sorry I made you cry, Mom. I didn't mean to hurt-” she tightly embraced me, not letting me complete the apology.

I had never known what pain felt like because everyone always seemed happy and worry-free, until now. There was something different when you saw adults cry. It was heartbreaking. Usually they were the ones who saw you cry. I guess everyone has a little kid inside of them, and would always need someone to hold when they felt alone.

I wish I knew what to do.

But then, I suddenly did.