Forever and Always

Chapter 15: A Voice in the Distance

               Weeks passed, and Eponine saw very little of Marius. When she did catch sight of him on the streets, she turned away quickly, afraid to show him her sorry face. She hated how utterly weak and helpless she had been that day on the bridge. She hated how she had simply stood there and watched as her sister was swallowed by the roaring waters. She hated how she had destroyed her relationship with Gavroche. She hated how she had indubitably failed as a big sister. She hated imagining what Marius would think of her if he knew of her weaknesses. Surprisingly,  it was easy to avoid him. In fact, it seemed as if he was trying to avoid her as much as she was trying to avoid him. Maybe he knew she had inadvertently killed Azelma and was just too polite to tell Eponine that he hated her for it.

        As Eponine drew farther and farther away from Marius, she began to spend much more time with Enjolras. She grew very fond of his company. Although he was extremely serious and almost never smiled, he was kind and never failed to cheer Eponine up. Eponine patiently listened to his incessant talk of the revolution, and, in return, Enjolras comforted her as she grieved for Azelma and took away her loneliness. Despite her new-found friendship with Enjolras, however, Eponine never stopped thinking of Marius.

        One day, as Eponine was roaming the streets, looking for Enjolras, she heard a voice in the distance.

        "Come, Cosette," an old man's voice said. "We must go home."

        Eponine froze and let out an audible gasp. Cosette. No, it could not be! It must have been a different Cosette. Or perhaps she had heard the old man wrong. Maybe he had said Colette, not Cosette. Still, his voice had sounded so familiar.

        "Cosette," Eponine murmured. Dear Lord, it had been such a long time since she'd heard that name...

        Eponine held her beautiful new doll against her chest. Her frilly blue dress bounced as she skipped down the hallway of her parent's inn.

        "Hi, Mama," she said as she entered her mother's room. Her mother sat in front of a cracked mirror, putting blood red lipstick on her fat, thick lips.

        "Hmm? Oh, hello Azelma."

        "Mama, I'm Eponine."

        "Oh, right. Hello, dear."

        "What are you doing, Mama?" Eponine inquired.

        "What does it look like I'm doing?" her mother snapped impatiently.

        "Putting on make up," Eponine replied. "Can I put some on, too?"

        "Oh, honey, I don't think make up is enough to help you."

        Eponine felt as if her heart had been crushed. Her mother was like that, able to deflate her spirits in a single sentence. Still, Eponine did her best not to let the pain show on her face. Her mother had taught her long ago that tears were for the weak.

        "Eponine! Move!"

        Eponine awoke from her thoughts with a start. She looked up to see her mother standing in front of her, her pudgy hands on her wide hips.

        "Move," she said again. "You're blocking the doorway."

        "Sorry." Eponine shuffled out of the way, and her mother left the room. Eponine stood awkwardly in the middle of the room. She knew she should leave, but the cracked mirror that hung on her mother's wall attracted Eponine like a moth to the flame. Eponine stepped forward, and her reflection became visible to her.

        Her dull brown hair fell down her back. Her big eyes were an equally dull brown. Her cheeks were hollow and her lips were thin and chapped. Her elaborate blue dress looked awkward on her skinny frame. Plain, she thought. Plain and ugly.

        Eponine looked down. Her mother's lipstick caught her eye. The temptation was too strong. She picked it up and rubbed it all over her lips. She gazed at her reflection again, and was disappointed. The bright red lipstick only served to draw attention to the fact that her skin was sickly pale. Her mother had been right. Make up did not help her at all. Eponine turned away from the mirror in disgust, dragging her hand across her lips.

        In front of her stood Cosette. Cosette, with the long, golden curls that always looked so perfect. Cosette, with those green eyes that sparkled like emeralds. Cosette, who never failed to look gorgeous, even when wearing filthy rags. Cosette, whose mother loved her more than anything else in the world.

        "Eppy?" Cosette said softly. "I apologize for interrupting you. I just need to sweep the floors."

        "It's Eponine," she corrected her sharply, and started to march out of the room.

        "Hey, Eponine?"

        "What, Lark?" Eponine snapped.

        Cosette flinched at the unkind nickname, but did not back down. "You look very beautiful."

        "Whatever," Eponine said, unable to believe her.

        "I like your doll," Cosette said.

        "Yes, it's very nice, isn't it? Too bad you don't have one." And with that, Eponine stormed out of the room.

        Eponine knew it was unfair  that she was so mean to Cosette, but she did not care. Cosette was so beautiful, so perfect, and Eponine hated her for it.

        That same day, an old man came to the inn, paid the Thenardiers a substantial sum, and took Cosette away. Just like that, the Lark was finally gone from Eponine's life.

        As Eponine watched Cosette walk out of the inn, one hand in her new father's hand, the other clutching a brand new doll, Eponine could not help but wish the man had taken her with him as well.

        Eponine twirled her hair nervously as the memories of her childhood swirled around her. She looked around, trying to find the source of the voice that had said Cosette's name. She could see no one. After a few moments, she convinced herself that she had simply imagined the voice.