--- The Shadows in the Silences -- 694 -- LEARNING TO FLY (original) ---
It is good sometimes, to be in the shadows and the silence. There is nothing I like better than to sit in my favorite overstuffed armchair in the pitch dark and watch the shadows leap across the walls of the living room.
You always hated that. You said you were more nocturnal, usually-- but you were never as nocturnal as I. Your eyes... I always thought they were beautiful, glowing in the darkness. The night I stumbled down the stairs from the loft in that lodge, the first spring and saw you sitting on the couch, stirring yourself some cocoa, your eyes glowing like a kitten-blue candle...
That was the night I fell in love with you.
I was an ass to you, though. I'm sorry about that, even after all this time. Luca has a grudge complex against others; I have the same complex against myself.
So do you-- you'd argue with me, I know, but you do.
Tonight, I'm not even going to bother watering my whiskey down and microwaving it. You started that habit, and I miss you too much to indulge it.
I grab the whiskey bottle from the cabinet under the kitchen sink. Such a cliche place to keep it, but it's not like we really care, now is it? Tom's old enough to drink (and knows better than to touch MY stash), and nobody else in the squad is planning to have any more children. What children the squad has are all well-trained enough to know that if they sneak into MY stash, I'll hunt them down and rip out their entrails.
Eleven steps from the kitchen sink to my easy chair; I've had about twenty years to count them.
I sit down, uncap the bottle, tilt it over my glass-- I'm using a glass this time, Aileas. I know how much you hate it when I drink straight from the bottle. Hated it, anyway.
The shadows flicker on the walls, flicker darkly. It's better than television, holovids-- beautiful, in a way. Tom used to jump and chase shadows, his wee little teeth trying to bite them. Do you remember? The fourth of July, 532? DA had insisted on celebrating it that year... with sparklers, at least, if not fireworks. She had her sparklers; the kids loved them, Tom especially. He tried to eat the sparks.
He used to try to eat bugs, too. You thought it was cute, watching his eyes follow a bug as it zipped through the air, then laughing at him as he leapt upon the poor bug. I told you it was bad for him, you said it was better for him than candy-- and it was good to let him develop his reflexes.
I met Lupus in the kitchen the other night. Standing in the shadows I love to watch, I thought I saw you out the window, moving through the yard. And then Lupus came up behind me, and told me that he missed you too. I really can't begin to express how much it means to me, to know how often you touched the lives of others, and that they appreciate it. It seems that there is not a soul in this house that did not love you a little.
I take a sip of whiskey and notice that the glass is almost empty. That is odd, because I do not recall actually drinking it. I guess drinking has become more than a habit.
The mouth of the bottle tips over the glass again; I refill it.
When we first got married, that month of quiet, before I had to go on a mission... I remember it so clearly. I remember almost every beautiful moment of that first month so clearly it makes my throat ache to think that you're gone. I remember how we used to curl up on the couch and just watch the rest of the house in the darkness. I remember all of the crazy problems getting you set up across the Pond, and transfering savings. I remember it all.
It is good to be in the shadows and the silence. It is nice to remember.