“Oh, Goah, that means—”
“That means that I fucked up, Aline. I took the wrong flask—the sedative—and left the poison on the counter. Pure sin!”
“What am I going to tell my mom?” Aline’s voice increases in tone and pitch, close to tears. “How can I convince her with no evidence?”
“I’m so sorry, sister. But you have to try. What else? Look, there she is.” Edda points at the resplendent woman in white surrounded by the crowd of well-wishers. “Talk to her.”
“Fuck, Edda,” Aline says, her voice barely under control. “This is so much harder than I thought.”
Edda takes her friend’s hands into her own. “No shit.” Edda looks into her eyes. “I don’t know how you feel. Honest to Goah, I don’t want to know. But in two months I most certainly will,” she says sourly. “Get a hold of yourself. This is it. What you don’t say today, remains unsaid.”
“Yes.” Aline takes a deep breath. “I know.”
“And about this monstrosity, this… ritual,” Edda gestures at the dancing crowd, disgusted. “We are moving to plan B, sister. I can guarantee you nobody will ever forget your mom’s Joyousday.”
“About that—I’ve been thinking…” Aline says in a weakened voice.
“What?! You promised!”
“I know. But it is hard enough as it is… I don’t want Mom’s Joyousday to be, I don’t know,” she shrugs, “desecrated.”
“Well, it’s not up to you anyway,” Edda says, defiance rising in her voice. “You cannot stop me.”
Aline’s rosy cheeks lose some color. “No way, Edda. You can’t do this without my consent.”
Edda regards her in silence. Sure I can, her eyes seem to say.
“Edda, I forbid it.” Aline drops her head. “I’m sorry.”
“But you promised!” Edda purses her lips, but only for an instant before her tongue lashes. “This is bigger than us! It’s bigger than your mom’s goahdamn Joyousday!” The fury is followed by instant regret, and then by pride, and then by fury again. Oh, it is so exhilarating for Ximena to ride Edda’s emotional roller coaster.
Aline steps back as if physically assaulted. She shakes her head slowly and points a finger at Edda’s face, serious and cold as a marble statue.
“Don’t. You. Dare. I forbid it! You do this, you’re dead to me.”
Edda holds her gaze for a few seconds before lowering her eyes. Oh, her fury is still there, all right. Ximena feels it burning inside. But fear—fear of loss, fear of being left alone—that is… unbearable. “Fine,” Edda whispers. “But promise me something.” She looks up at Aline.
“What?”
“Talk your mom out of this.”
“I won’t be able to.” Aline shakes her long hair and clenches her jaws. “I know her.”
“What else can we do?” Edda’s voice is sharper now. “Begging is our only power, sister. Go talk to your mom.”
Aline turns and looks at the beaming white figure with hesitant eyes. Edda gives her a gentle push. “You got this.”
“Aline! Come here, my love.” The woman takes her daughter in her arms and kisses both her cheeks. “I wasn’t expecting you until after the prayers. Quaestor Mathus hasn’t even arrived yet.”
“Sorry, Mom, I just wanted to talk to you in private, without, er, the rest of the family.”
“We will have plenty of time to talk when you join me in Goah’s Embrace, in eleven years!” She laughs, happy.
“Please don’t make jokes, Mom.”
“Oh, come on, love. Cheer up! Can you please excuse us?” she asks the surrounding group.
“Of course, Roz,” a tall woman says, smiling. “But don’t forget to say goodbye to us next, it’s our turn!”
Rozamond takes her daughter aside.
“You look pretty today, Aline.” Rozamond gently pulls back a strand of hair from her daughter’s face. “A smile would make you look even more beautiful, love. What’s in your heart?”
“Please, Mom. Please, I beg you.” Aline looks up at her mom. “Call this off.”
Rozamond’s eyes look concerned, but her smile widens.
“Oh, what a scandal. What would our guests say?”
“It isn’t funny. Please!” Tears begin to well up in Aline’s eyes.
“My love, I know that you have doubts, but I don’t. See?” She opens her arms, radiating happiness. “It will all be fine. Trust me. You will have to assume more responsibility at home, but you are more than ready,” she says proudly.
“Mom, please. I’ve never seen anybody with Dem. You haven’t either!”
Rozamond’s smile mixes with a sudden hint of sadness.
“Just because you haven’t seen something, it doesn’t mean it’s not a thing, love.” She takes Aline’s hands. “I knew somebody that has seen it. You never had the chance to meet my mother, Saskia—you were too small. I loved her so much. I hope you love me half as much.”
“Mom, I love you, you know that.”
“My mother is waiting for me. And I know in my heart that she is eager to see me, as I will be to see you in eleven years.” She beams. “I remember her Joyousday as vividly as if it had been last week. It was wonderful! It was right here as well, but it was spring; sunny and fragrant.” She takes a long look at her daughter. “I want you to remember mine with the same love and hope.” Rozamond’s eyes seem to shift away as she remembers. “Right after the prayers, during the evocation, only the family was gathered around Mom. She was recalling the events of her life that she chose to share with us, blessing them in Goah’s Eyes.” She paused, looking deep into Aline’s eyes. “She shared a sad memory. But beautiful in a way. Mom described the suffering of her family when her father lost his mind, day after agonizing day. Dem is a terrible, terrible thing. I don’t want that for any of you, my love.”
Aline opens her mouth to say something, but Rozamond puts a finger on her lips.
“The first days it was barely noticeable,” she continues her tale, “but as the weeks passed by, he forgot everything. Absolutely everything. First it was his profession. He was an engineer, obviously, so he had to stop working soon after. Then it was
