The Meanings of Lost

Chapter 16

Diana:

At the end of the day, I'm driving Ambrosine back to school. I listen to Ambrosine hum in the back seat as I drive her to her classes. She never sings in front of me, but from what I can hear now, I know she'll be good. The tune is familiar, possible from The Phantom of the Opera. It's odd, how that play keeps appearing. The posters on her wall, the banner on the website. Mayhap it's her favourite musical and her parents decided to invest in an expensive, old poster for their angel.

"What are you humming?" I ask.

"Masquerade from The Phantom of the Opera." She replies, then commences humming again.

"I couldn't help but notice the posters on your wall. Is it your favourite musical?"

"I guess it is. I have the fondest memories of it and the music."

"Do you mind elaborating?"

"My father always played the tunes on the piano. My mother liked to sing the lyrics. She often used one of the numbers to sing me to sleep. My parents always spoke fondly of their time on tour. We often travelled around as guests to perform at the end of tours. My mom met Sierra Boggess doing that. Sierra is very nice. I got to work with her in School of Rock." She dictates in the same manner one might deliver the timetables to their elementary professor. "The music is all that bad either. Let the spectacle astound you for sure."

"So your parents met on tour?"

"No, they met a duelling piano bar." Sarcasm? She doesn't have a sarcastic voice. Ambrosine believes sarcasm shouldn't be hinted at when delivered properly. People aren't supposed to know when you're doing it.

"Is that sarcasm?" I ask bluntly.

"No, I'm serious. They met in a duelling piano bar, but nothing happened as they both believed they wouldn't have the opportunity to see one another again for my mother was to be Christine Daaé and my father the lead pianist. They met again sometime during rehearsals right before the tour started and fell in love and all that jazz." Oh! That makes sense, actually. The posters would have been from her parent's tour with their names on it. She was keeping her mother close! How sweet.

"That's sweet," I reply.

"Yes."

I take a left turn. "Do you mind if I ask how she died?"

"I mind very much." She sighs and leans back against the seat. We make the rest of the journey in silence. When she leaves, she kisses my brow robotically before entering the dorm room without a word.

~~~~~

By Monday afternoon Bruce has arrived via his private jet. Steve would love it. He would have loved to drive something like that. My pilot. That's all I can think as I stare at the metal flying contraption. He, he might actually get a chance to fly it now, if he ever wakes up.

But I have hope. He taught me long ago what it meant to have hope, to believe that things could be better. He wasn't conscious, but he wasn't dead. There's a chance, no matter how small, that after all these years we can be side by side in a time of peace.

We walk from the landing to my house. In times of thin crowds, I explain to him the events that took place yesterday. He listens and nods, sometimes grunts an opinion, by otherwise, he lets me talk. And talk and talk and talk. I vent, I gush, I do all those things of those I try to make Ambrosine do, laying out my soul and feelings at his feet for his picking.

"That's....mmmnh....intense." He says as I unlock my door. I use my body to block the code from his view, though I know that it would never stop him if he actually wanted in and I was not there to stop him.

"Yes." I sit him down on my couch then move to the kitchen for a drink. Alcohol has little effect on me, but that's never stopped me from trying.

"You've been reading The Coldest Girl in Coldtown?" He asks, raising his voice as I'm in the kitchen even though I could have heard him fine. I hear him pick up a book of the coffee table. "Vampires, romance." He mocks.

"It's Ambrosine's," I say, coming out with a bottle of wine and two glasses. I place them on the table then snatch the book from his hands. "Let me see." I quickly scan the book as I don't always keep track of her reading. It seems directed at an older audience, but I don't complain as long as she isn't reading anything inappropriate. This seems fine.

"So the gods are really meddling with you?" He asks, leaning back and spreading his arms across the couch, much too comfortable for mine liking. I elbow him in the gut as I sit down.

He doubles over, coughing and no longer comfortable. "What the hell was that for!?"

"Watch your language Bruce Wayne or I'll wash your mouth out with soap," I say dryly. I smirk. His face is turning red.

"You known I'm on your side here. And hell hell hell hell and hell." I smell a challenge. I get up and walk towards the bathroom. "You're not seriously getting - Diana! Okay, I'm sorry no Diana!"He fumbles after me but doesn't make it very far. He'll be bruised and incapable for a few days.

I out a new bar of a soap, a courtesy in my opinion then go back out to the living room. "Put this in your mouth," I order, handing him the white bar. He abhors me a pleading look, but I keep my face stern. I think the challenges of motherhood, may it even by just on the weekend, is doing good for me.

Slowly, he extends a shaking hand and takes the soap from me. I grin as he slips in between his teeth. "Hopefully next time you will twice about mocking Ambrosine's reading tastes and uttering such foul language in my or her presence." He just nods and grunts, his words muffled by the soap. Point for Diana, Ambrosine chants in my mind. I take out my phone and snap a picture of him, red-faced, puffy-eyed, with the soap bar sticking out of his mouth. "Blackmail," I tell him, waving it around. "Or just if I get bored or annoyed with you." His eyes follow my phone.

I sit down. He goes to take the soap out, but I stop him. "Let's watch the news and calm down a bit. Then I'll consider ending your punishment." He's going to try and kill me in my sleep tonight. Let's hope I remember this and hold back.

I turn on the telly and the pictures from in front of us. It still feels a bit like magic, the way it happens.

"Breaking news." The announcer says. "Just moments ago, a chemical fire in the labs of Stonewall Academy for the Academically Inclined broke out and is now rampaging through the building. Firefighters are on the scene, by the water is doing nothing to dampen the flames. A few students made it out of the building and their stories are terrifying."

"Yes, that's right." The other says. "Some of the girls have been claiming students from a rival school, The Sister of Perpetual Sorrow were involved, but until the whole campus has been cleared, no one can know what went down. As we speak our reporter Felicity is going to the scene and we will be keeping you posted as new events occur." The noise begging to drown out as photos of an unholy fire appear on the screen. Ten-foot-tall flames seem to be consuming the bricks and stone the castle was made of.

My feet act before my brain catches up, running out the door. Somewhere along the way, I shed my mortal garments and become the immortal Wonder Woman.