My bruises, Your Pain

Chapter 16: If one door closes another one opens.

Aysa

“Deirdre?” I asked in a shaky voice. The mesh door opened and my eyes got bigger as it falls on her face. An older lady with grey strands clearly visible in her dark brown hair and the most beautiful dark brown eyes come in my eyesight. There was no clear resemblances but I know not to judge a book by its cover.

 “No, I am sorry…” her voice almost too soft to hear.

For a moment everything felt wrong, as if my whole world crumbled in front of me. I know I shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up but I am a human and we are gullible creatures. The sadness overtook my body and after a moment of silence I manage to utter, “Thank you and we are sorry to have bothered you,” I gave a faint smile and turn around to leave. My face warmed up as I fight back the tears, Austin tightening his grip on my hands, knowing how devastated I was. After just a few steps I couldn’t fight the tears anymore and I let it all out.

“Aysa?” the soft voice asked.

I stopped in my tracks, I don’t remember introducing myself but the last few minutes feel like a blur. I finally turn around and our eyes meet. Her eyes seemed different, lighter and more relaxed as if the confirmation of my name has soften her up.

“How did you know my name?” I asked, my voice jittery and almost excited again. In hopes that she lied just because she didn’t know who I was.

At my words her whole body relaxed and she smiled. She started moving down the two steps towards me, “I have been waiting for you”. My body stiffened as my mind frantically starts to build scenarios that my subconscious has been craving. But all that hype my body was feeling quickly spiralled out of control, I started hyperventilating and sweat dripping on my forehead as if I had a fever.

“Are you okay dear?” she asked concerned. Immediately Austin’s attention was on me and I try my outmost best to remain calm. She walked even closer to me “I should have been clear from the start, I am not Deirdre, but I know her well. Please come inside and we can talk about it?” Austin let go of my hand and I walked up the stairs behind the lady. She went inside, walking in the direction of the kitchen and put on the kettle, I walked into the living room, pacing up and down while looking at the frames hanging on the walls. The pictures are old with the faces almost faded.  After pacing the room I finally sat down next to Austin, my knees shaking as much as my hands and it gets intense as the kettle reaches boiling point and finally stopped, giving me a fright. The sounds were magnified, I could hear as the spoon and the cup made contact, then the water filling up the cup and finally her steps as she gets closer and closer yet the moment she appeared still frightened me.

I stared into my cup, my reflection looked as pale as I felt. The silence was unbearable because it continued to amplify the noises, but finally the silence was broken. Her voice now sharper and well projected, “I am not Deirdre, but I know her well, as I said before” She paused for a moment looking at my expression, which at this point was a poker face. “I am her sister…” I looked up at her confused, because there was no mention of her in the diary but before reacting, she continued “well not by blood, but we were in the same home. My sister (blood sister) and I (pointing towards one of the pictures hanging on the wall) were lucky to have been adopted and it seems that was also the breaking point for Deirdre. I don’t know how much you know but we lost contact for years and it was pure coincidence that our paths cross when they did.” The talks about Deirdre seem to bring up a lot of emotions, her facial expressions clearly evident of the pain.

“Did you know about the diary?” I asked, trying to understand her role in all of this, she has been giving me the details just not at the pace I would like. “Yes, yes I know about the diary, I was the one who left it at the post office on her request. She said she will deliver them to me as she finishes them but,” she paused…tears swelled up in her eyes as she tries to control her emotions. I let out a scream, not realising how loud it actually was. They both looked at me, shocked at my outburst. I quickly apologized realising my actions was totally inappropriate and unnecessary, but what am I supposed to do? Sit and listen carefully waiting on answers I have been longing for? I got up and went outside to get some fresh air, a breeze blew through my hair, and I closed my eyes and took a breath. I kept repeating the words “no expectations, no expectations” to myself.

The situation has taken its toll on me and I don’t know how to feel anymore. Look, I am even rambling. Luckily I have a very supportive husband, he came outside, stood behind me and put his arms around me and kissed me in my neck. “I know this is hard but this is your chance to know the truth and hopefully meet your mother,” his voice calm and convincing. After taking a moment, we stepped back inside.

“Again, I am sorry. Please continue, why did my mother not send the other diaries?” I asked as I calmly sit down on the couch. I placed the one hand in the other, fidgeting with my fingers, waiting for her to speak. That actually made me realise, I don’t even know the lady’s name and I never even asked. “Before you start, what is your name?” She smiled as she started talking, “I have to apologize and my name is Shelly. As for the diaries, yes I know about the diaries,  your mom were going to bring them to me as she finished them and made me promise not to read them. I know things were bad for her after we split but she never told me what exactly happened so I can’t fill you in. She stopped coming by, I just assumed that it was difficult reminiscing over the past and that she is taking her time. Then it became too long and I went to the address she gave me but she wasn’t there. As I left the building someone informed me that she was taken to a hospital after she suddenly collapsed.”

“Is she still alive?” I heard myself ask, my hands trembling and voice shaky as I waited for her to answer.