Heading out into the night, I try and think of where Elina might hide if she was trying to escape. A few places immediately come to mind; the riverbank, a rooftop, the Velvet Tomb, and the cemetery.
Deciding to begin at The City of the Dead, I take off in that direction. She may want to visit the mother in question for some solace.
Approaching her quietly from behind, I see her kneeling in front of a small brass plaque stamped to the tomb door;
Nora Girard
Devoted Mother
That's all it says. No other information; no indication of her role, how old she was, or anything else. It only highlights her most important contribution—Elina. Watching her shoulders shake in grief, she looks weighed down by tonight’s revelation.
“Maman, I finally know everything. Grand-mere finally told me. Tonight, I allow myself to be swallowed by the grief of knowing you were so happy. You had everything; a family, a man who worshipped you, a baby who adored you. And it was stolen away.”
I feel grief claw at my chest as she drowns in hers.What have we done?
“What do I do, mommy?” A sob tears from her chest as she pounds a single fist onto the ground. “I love him more than life itself, so much that I was willing to give life up for him. Like you.” Her voice breaks. “What if he’s the reason you’re in this tomb? What if he killed Papa? How would I ever get over it? I need him like I need air, like I need blood.” Laying on the ground then, she curls into a tight ball and cries, huge wracking sobs, her body trembling with the force of her emotions.
I move backwards, away from her, giving her a moment to breathe. To calm down. I don’t deserve her attention, not yet, but I will get her to understand. I want to cry as well, at the consequences of these long forgotten decisions. Decisions that set in motion a thousand small events and altered entire families, entire cities.
Finally, she stands and brushes off her knees. I move a little further away so she understands I was watchful but not intrusive. I want her to feel my presence before she sees me, I am here to support her, not smother her.
“Come out, Sebastien. I can smell you on the wind,” she says, her voice low but steady. Completely different than when she was kneeling in front of her mother.
“Hello,Tesoro. Can we talk?” I reach out to see if she will take my hand, gauging where we stand
She answers by grasping my fingers, allowing me to envelope her hand in mine. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I just came from Mother and I was hoping we could talk about what happened tonight. Maybe I can help fill in some blanks.”
Squeezing my hand, she simply answers, “Ok,” before sitting gently on the concrete pad a nearby tomb is resting on.
