Chapter Text
Sitting on the porch swing, Cassandra scrolled through her Photo Albums on her phone for several more moments before she shut it off for the third time that night. Casting her gaze to the stars, she tried counting as many of them as she could, but her mind was too tangled to make it past seven. Nothing made sense to her anymore.
Bela stepped through the storm door and out onto the front porch, seeking her sister. "Cassandra?"
Listlessly, she turned her head to acknowledge her. "Yeah?"
"I was looking for you." Bela went over to sit next to her. "What are you doing out here?"
"I hate the silence in our house. I hate it! Mother's locked herself away in her study room each day, and Mom is always working on that quilt. Neither of them says much except: Good morning. Collect the eggs. Fold the laundry. Brush the goats. And then they cry and run off before I can say anything." Folding her arms over her chest, she set her legs down to stop the momentum of the swing. "I just don't know what to do. We should've gone on that trip with her."
Bela nodded, her throat clenched. "Even if we had been invited, we wouldn't have been able to prevent that bus accident."
"We would have found a way!" Cassandra raised her voice, remaining adamant that she could've done more. "We always did! You and I would have protected her! When have we not?"
Her chin trembled as she held back her tears. Bela was having a hard time not blaming herself. She was the big sister. There was never a moment where she would have hesitated to sacrifice herself for her dear sisters. They were her everything. Together, they were a package deal. If any of her friends had a problem with Cassandra or Daniela, she cut them out of her life. If anyone ever hurt them, she would make them suffer tenfold. Family came first. "We have since the beginning."
Fuming, the brunette paced back and forth on the deck, cursing at everything in her sight. She then swung her foot at the timber column on the porch. Cassandra kept kicking it harder and harder until her big toe throbbed with pain. "Ever since we were born, we've looked after one another! When she fell and scraped her knee, I cleaned her wound and put a smiley band-aid on it. Then I kissed her knee and told her everything was going to be okay. When that bully picked on her in fourth grade, I gave that tall girl a black eye for it. Even when Mother grounded us, Daniela had a way of softening her, so our punishment wouldn't be as harsh."
A watery smile appeared on Bela's face from one particular memory. "I remember that time when we broke Mother's pair of wine glasses during tag. Dani took the blame for us and told Mother she was trying to reach for them because she needed them for her tea party. What was she? Six?"
"Yeah, I think so. With her aching heart, Cassandra clutched her chest. She was lightheaded. The night sky no longer looked as splendid as it once did in her eyes. "Our baby sister's gone!" Her shoulders began to shake violently. "I don't want to wake up to another day without her! I don't want to!"
With torrents of anguish coursing down her face, Bela got up from the porch swing and hugged her aggrieved sister from behind. "I know it's hard. I've never known life apart from you and Daniela. And now I have no choice but to face a future without her in it. Please stay with me? I can't lose you, too."
"Our little squishmallow!" Cassandra sobbed, reaching up to grasp her sister’s hands with desperation. "Why her? Why the purest soul? Must this universe be so cruel?"
"I don't get it either. I really don't. I want her here with us right now. I want to hug her and tell her something that'd make her roll her eyes at us. Dani was so tolerant of all of our bullshit and what we put her through. Teasing her. Pranking her. Remember when she came out of her general anesthesia after her wisdom tooth removal? We told her Mother got turned into a dog and ended up at an animal shelter. God, we were such jerks for doing that. Mom glared at us so hard and told us to comfort her."
A weak laugh escaped her lips through the suppressed sound of her hiccups. "Do you remember what Dani said, though? She bawled her eyes out and said she'd go and adopt Mother immediately, saying she belonged at home. Tell me why we can't save Dani and bring her back home to us?"
"I know," Bela whispered into her hair. "I know. We'll keep remembering our redheaded, crazy, marvelous sister, okay? We won't let our memories of her die. When we're old, we're still going to talk about her. Promise me that?"
"I'll try.” Cassandra sniffled, peering up at the sky once more. She failed to see the brightness and beauty of each star. Without Daniela, her world was empty. Devoid of light. "I promise."
Bela hugged her tight, as if she was trying to squeeze out all her unbearable sorrow. "I love you, Cass. You're the best sister I could ever ask for. You and Dani made me so proud of being your big sister. I'm always going to be proud of you. You know that, right?"
"I do." Having exhausted all of her energy for the night, she allowed herself to melt into her sister's loving arms. "I love you, too, Bel."
Meanwhile, you locked yourself away in the sewing room of the farmhouse. You had promised Daniela you were going to finish her quilt before summer. She was so excited. Every day, Daniela checked in to see what progress you had made, claiming it was going to be the prettiest and most colorful quilt in all the world.
The continual hum of the sewing machine was the only thing keeping your sanity intact. While you stitched the patterned squares together, you couldn't help but wish there was something to mend the tears in your heart. Daniela's body had undergone such trauma from the accident that the mortician could not completely reconstruct her remains. Her body was too misshapen from being crushed in the vehicle. Thus you and your family opted for a closed casket. Seeing that wooden casket broke your spirit. You knew Alcina, Cassandra, Bela, and yourself would never be the same after losing her.
While you were lost in thought, your wife came into the sewing room. She approached you slowly so as not to startle you. "Are you coming to bed?"
Ever since the day of the funeral, you had avoided going to bed until as late as 1 to 3 a.m. Sometimes you never showed up because Alcina found you asleep either at the sewing table or on the couch in the living room. It deeply distressed her because she needed your emotional support and physical comfort. Not having you in bed and in her embrace only quadrupled her loneliness and heartache. Her daughters were hurt. She was hurt. You were hurt. All of you were falling apart.
Letting out an audible sigh, you lifted your foot off the pedal. You couldn't turn to look at your wife. Not again. You had let your beautiful bride down by not being there for her. The guilt weighed too heavily on you, so you resumed your work on the quilt. "I need one more hour."
Alcina frowned, casting her gaze downward. Her shoulders dropped in resignation. "You keep saying that."
You tried to tune her out, listening to the steady "thump, thump, thump" of the needle puncturing the fabric instead. "Well, I mean it this time."
"You keep saying that, too."
"Maybe if you stopped asking me the same question every night, then I'd come to bed sooner!"
A single drop of grief welled up from the corner of her eye. "Darling? Our baby girl is gone. Please, I cannot do this alone. I need you. Don't isolate yourself from us. From me."
You balled your fists. The droplets of your tears fell upon the pinwheel patterns. "I'm not—I'm going to finish this! I promised Dani I'd have her quilt done before the summer." From behind you, something crashed to the floor. Spinning around in your seat, you learned the heavy thud came from your wife, who had collapsed. Her weakened appearance snapped you out of the deadness of your mind.
Alcina remained on the ground, pulling her knees up to her chest while she held her head in her pale hands. The shock of losing her youngest daughter and how she'd never see her little girl again finally hit her like a ton of bricks. You had married her and joined the family when the girls were adolescents, yet she was the one who had raised them from infancy. From changing Daniela's diapers to helping her pick out her first dress for a school dance, her mother was with her every step of the way. Then tragedy struck and snatched her child from her, taking her somewhere where Alcina Dimitrescu could not follow.
You joined her on the floor, cradling her tear-stained face. Smiling softly at her, you wrapped her in a gentle hug. You then pressed your forehead against hers, sharing in her despair. "I'm so sorry. Please forgive me, Alci. I'm really sorry. I'm just so scared to let her go. To forget our memories of her. But I don't want to go through this without you. Without Cassandra and Bela. Their pain, I can't even begin to imagine their level of grief."
Deep emotions stirred with no other outlet but through her gut-wrenching sobs. Nevertheless, Alcina hugged you fiercely. "We will never forget our baby, understand? Every memory we have will s-stay with us. The memories of our beautiful Daniela will make us cry. Make us smile. Make us laugh. The healing will come, but right now, we need to grieve. Together."
You nodded. "Together." Taking her hand, you placed it on the left center of your chest, just below the nipple of your breast.
She blinked more of her tears away, gazing longingly at you. The warmth of your hand returned life to her. "What are you doing?"
"I want you to feel my heartbeat, so you'll know that I'll always be close to you. Even when it's weak and feeling like it's barely beating some days, you'll still know I'm here. No matter what comes, I'll be there for you and the girls. I won't shut myself off from any of you anymore."
Alcina grasped your hand, bringing it up to her lips to kiss it. "My sweet, sweet girl. The day I fell for you was the day I knew you'd be the most wonderful partner and mother to my children. I was right. You have given us the fullest and richest life I could ever hope for. Although my heart is broken, it will always belong to you because you are its keeper."
Crying, you buried your face in the crook of your wife's neck. "For however long it takes us, even if it's for the rest of our lives, we will sit through the pain. We will allow ourselves to mourn with no time limit. We don't have to "move on" when the world says so. It's our grief that'll remind us that the love was worth it. Loving Daniela, our precious daughter, was all worth it."