Symphony of Lilacs

51. Eternal Crossroads

Normally, I never arrive at her doorstep this early in the morning. It was around seven thirty when I left, after rustling fruitlessly all night.But now, my knuckles keep considering whether to tap on the wood or not.

Glaze in her eyes; distance; unfathomable.

"We need to talk."

At my left, long fingers peel open the curtained window. I stay there, transfixed in my spot, when Mathilda notices me standing there. Her lips purse, while my hand hangs on the door knob. Unsung words remain in between us through the glass. Even when the door opens for me, the glass stays there.

Mathilda picks up a plate from the table, my eyes wandering over to the empty spot of the rocking chair. Shaking my head, I take a step towards her. Her hands grip the stove for a moment longer when I say, "Tilda..." I try to take her hand, but she moves away from the stove.

Instead, I decide to change the topic. "Thank you."

"What for?" her voice chipped at the edges.

"For Great Expectations and your wish," I say, muffling my fidgets and my glances at the uncurtained window.

The clock ticks away, even the contraption wondering what is happening here. It looks out to the sun outside, only to find it absent.

A slight curve of her lips echoes and my fidgets cease, her bittersweet expression mirroring on my own. Tilda shakes her head, arms wrapped around her chest.

Taking a step forward, I put my hand on her elbow-- waiting for a few moments-- before running a thumb across her cheek. Tilda fiddles with my coat's collar, but her palm stays on my chest afterward. No one crosses that one step in between us.

Though, there are almost no ink stains on her hands. Only one or two blots. Something gnaws within me, forcing me to not ask. Instead I say, "I... Doctor Hopkins and I are working on a paper together... I won't be able to come everyday as usual..."

"Is that why you're so early today?" she teases, only remnants of her earlier smile left. I shrug in answer. Mathilda continues,
"Usually I had to leave before this time for the apothecary, Mama's medicines..." Her eyes widen, realising what she said out loud. "Lord, I... you..." she sighs.

How... how does one even move away from grief like that, Tilda...

"I'd never mind you remembering her, Tilda.
If you want to... you know you can tell me anything."
Mathilda only dimly nods, while I press a kiss on her forehead.

With the clock ticking away, we move away from one another. I stay at my spot, while Mathilda fetches her peacock blue cloak. She jerks the curtain close with one swift swish.

Yesterday's conversation with Mathilda keeps revolving in my mind, making up knots. Even the bouncing fruit in my hand does not seem to distract it, nor Henry's talk about the incoming shipment. "The shipment will be arriving soon enough, presumably by Wednesday."