Grave Apparitions

Wincing, the feeling threatened to push my head into a shriveled bow- my body wanting to cave in on itself. And now, I knew exactly what she would 'recommend' next. Tsking her tongue silently, I think I was the only who noticed her mutter something under her breath before she sucked in a deep inhale and plastered a wide smile on her face.

"Say- It's a beautiful day today doves! What if we visited the church in town for a little bit?"

Avoiding her gaze, I knew what Mrs. Stevenson really wanted to say- after all, she had said it many times before, and each time I didn't know how I was supposed to respond. Gathering my resolve in my veins, I feigned a pained look and rubbed my forehead meekly, a feeble sigh slithering through my teeth as if I was absolutely exhausted.

Though I didn't have anything against her going to church, to be honest, I didn't really like the experience. Just thinking about it made my head throb faintly; the judge-y stares, the gossiping old women, the condescending sermons. While yesterday I would have attended with her if she had asked, something in the pit of my stomach told me to stay home. After being drugged, again, by someone I had somewhat trusted, I really wanted some time to myself.

And hey... Something in me said. Perhaps if she was gone....

Shaking my head, I refocused on the task at hand: getting out of going with her. As if sensing my distress, Kayla grabbed my hand before entwining our fingers- her right hand feeling my forehead for a fever. The unannounced contact made my skin flush with a sudden chill, a stir gathering in my face as if my blood were suddenly composed of microscopic butterflies instead of cells. The shock caused a nervous laugh to slip through my teeth before I drew away from her touch; my body feeling as if it were on fire.

I didn't even risk looking at Mrs. Stevenson as I wiped away the memory of her touch from my skin; my mind split in two. The present part of myself thanked her and asked if she thought I had a fever, while the other, more dominant part of my mind was struggling to choose how I should conduct my expressions under Mrs. Stevenson's fierce gaze. Playing with my fingers, I took a deep breath as I tried to regain myself- the warmth in my hands refusing to cool.

"It looks like you have a mild fever..." Kayla lied for me, her plate empty as she played around with her fork.

"Maybe it's because I slept too long last night? I have quite the migraine..." Before I could register exactly why I had uttered those words, I finally risked a glance to Mrs. Stevenson- and with it, felt the surge of green-scaled emotions from last night rise to the surface.

"I would feel so upset if I got someone at church sick..." It was only that phrase which seemed to convince Mrs. Stevenson to let me stay home. It was certainly a weakness of hers; and now that I was looking closely, I was surprised I hadn't noticed it.

"Alright," She caved, a disgruntled expression threatening to overtake her face. "Kayla, you'll help me though, right? Besides, we should probably give Typha her space if she's feeling sick."

And of course, Mrs. Stevenson would notice mine.

Though I wanted to protest, I knew I couldn't have both: skipping church, and staying with Kayla. Letting out a tired sigh and casting Kayla an apologetic look, her carefree smile felt like enough of a mercy for leaving her with such a talkative and intense old woman that the guilt was negligible.

"I packed some painkillers from home in my bag- the smallest outer zipper. If you want me to grab it-"

Standing from the table, my chair creaked loudly as I kindly declined Kayla's offer before putting the dishes in the sink and turning to go upstairs to get the medicine myself. Though I hadn't meant to come off so abrasively, just the thought of someone handing me pills whose true contents I wasn't 100% sure about made me want to break something.

Meeting her eyes as I walked by, I could tell Kayla knew exactly what I was thinking- and seeing the guilty expression on her face made my steps feel heavy; but I still didn't stop. It was a little disheartening- we had been so close for six years, but I could feel a chip forming in what usually felt like a diamond-grade friendship. A dull pang echoed in my chest, and pressing my hand against it in an effort to lessen the ache, I tried to convince myself that this would pass in a few months- no, weeks- time.

Stepping into my room, I followed Kayla's description and found the medicine. Inspecting the bottle and pills, the tenseness which had unknowingly seized my arms relaxed as I popped two pills into my mouth and swallowed, drained even though it wasn't even 11 AM yet. Hearing footsteps, I turned expecting to see Kayla before my movements froze; my instinctual smile fading away as Mrs. Stevenson walked in with a hand held vacuum.

"This is in case any small bits of glass are still in the carpet," She explained while plugging it in. Nodding my head, I took the vacuum from her and turned it on, quickly bending down and sweeping over the area the glass had spilled so that an older woman like her wouldn't have to get on her knees. I didn't entirely know why myself I was being so considerate to her despite what I was feeling, but after a few seconds pondering I realized it was for a much, much more selfish reason.

Just thinking of it caused my ears to feel hot with a red blush, a fake cough sounding over the loud vacuum as I tried to clear my mind of such stupid thoughts.

It's because, after all, I don't want Kayla to think I'm such a cruel person as to make an old women work on the floor.

Just as I was about to turn the vacuum off, I startled as Mrs. Stevenson grabbed my hand and helped me stand up- the close proximity of her face to mine making my stomach clench uncomfortably.

"Typha." Her words were low and serious, and though they blended in with the vacuum, I could still tell as clear as day what she was saying- perhaps because it was something she's already said before.

"The way you looked at Kayla at the table this morning..." Quirking my brow, I couldn't contain both the confusion and amusement that escaped me at those words. So she wanted to have a secret conversation with the vacuum on so Kayla couldn't hear?

"Don't look at her like that." She commanded, her grip on my hand firm. I looked at our joined hands for a moment- mine refusing to hold hers back. In her eyes, was I a selfish daughter? Was I even that much to her- after all, I was a foster child. Isn't there a difference?

"Like what?" It was a simple jab, but I couldn't help myself. At that her gaze soured, a harsh glare attempting to stomp out my feigned ignorance. Yet, because of who she is, she didn't have the heart to explain what she meant. Defeated, she turned off the vacuum and unplugged it before retreating to my doorway, leaving me with the hollow buzzing which I had almost forgotten about in my bones.

"I guess you can't expect a lame swan to walk on land..." She huffed, talking to herself at this point. Rolling my eyes at her back, I felt a little miffed to know that- just a few years ago- her little quib would have gotten to me.

And of course, though I played the fool, I knew exactly what Mrs. Stevenson was trying to tell me not to do, but it was already too late.

Perhaps if she had come out and said it outright, I would have been so shocked by her courage that I would have dropped dead and truly stopped. But, ultimately, she didn't have the guts to ask me straight out- something more forward than 'don't look at her like that' or 'don't get too close'.

Maybe if it was something like...

'Don't fall in love with Kayla Abdiel.'