Symphony of Lilacs

42. Ashes Down My Throat

The sun weakly rises through the curtains of Mathilda's room, still a few hours away from its whole light.

"Tilda," I say. Mathilda shifts in my arms, and I give her space.
When her brown eyes meet mine, I wish I can only look at them and nothing else. Tears never came to her during the night ever since a single drop fell when they... took her mother away.
Now the slight redness at the edges of her cornea makes me open my lips.

Though she already shakes her head, looking at the window. She moves so that her back faces me.
"I know... maybe it will be better if you leave now before..."

Before anyone sees me here.

"But I will come later in the day." My thumb caresses her cheek. She softly nods, not saying anything else.

Nothing...

Shaking my head, I pull myself away from the bed. Away from her.
Repeating in my head over and over again: This isn't the appropriate time to fight against someone's words.
My feet paddle towards the door, but stop.
Turning back, I put my hands on her bent shoulders and kiss her cheek. Her fingers brush against my palms. After a few more moments like this, I tear myself away from her room.

It is five in the morning when I enter the living room and leave her apartment. Though, I don't go home afterwards. I wander the streets till my duty time starts at eight. When I try to rid my mind of nothing, a single memory plays. A memory that takes my breath away.

"You didn't object to my choice when I came back home last summer holiday, Father," I remind him.

"I thought it was a timely passion at the time, Matthew." Father rubs his temples. "I did not anticipate you to actually apply for medical school."

My lips press into a thin line. This was exactly why I only told him after sending the application.
"What's done is done now. I will give the entrance exam when my application is accepted."

"When. I always did like your confidence." Father shakes his head, despite the words.
"I do not doubt your academic record, but we'll see after you give your entrance examination."

"And what will happen if I pass?" If.

He notices the slip with a raised brow.
"If you actually pass such an exam, then..."

"Then..." I resist running a hand through my hair.

"Then no matter what, I shall assist you in your endeavours."
His words ought to encourage, but the narrowness of his eyes as he stalks out of my room rejects me of that assurance.

I did pass the examination;
Those words, though familiar, did prove to be a lie; And this conversation did become the last one on one we shared.
Except for that time in the fencing court, when he asked me to take care of my siblings.