A New Start, A New Hope
Jun 21, 2006 9:41:06 GMT
Post by Deleted on Jun 21, 2006 9:41:06 GMT
“You know this woman, Hun?”
Did she know this woman? She thought she did. Or had. Long ago. But then she turned out to be someone she didn’t expect. Then again, it hadn’t been such a surprise, so maybe she had expected it but just denied the possibilities because she didn’t want them to become real. But real they became. And now it brought them here, which really was a surprise. She took a step forward out of Zechariah’s grasp.
“Zechariah,” Ceres continued to stare at the woman in front of them as she gestured towards her. “I’d like you to meet your mother-in-law.”
Galiah mostly just stared at her daughter. What, no greeting? No warm hug? Not surprising. I don’t blame her a bit, she thought to herself. She wasn’t sure what to do next. She had jumped into this situation unexpectedly and hadn’t planned her next steps. Though what else could she expect, since she wasn’t entirely sure why she got herself into this in the first place.
Ceres also didn’t know what to do. Part of her wanted to run back to the warmth of her husbands embrace, part of her wanted to rush toward her mother and just be held by her as if she were five again. She settled for somewhere in the middle and reached behind herself for Zechariah’s hand and held out her other toward Galiah.
“It’s been a while, Ceres,” Galiah felt almost stupid for using practically the most cliché line in existence. She took her daughter’s offered hand in her own and squeezed it. The gesture felt slightly awkward: Their family hadn’t really been one of physical affection—at least, not when she had been a part of it.
“How’ve you been, Mom?” Ceres said almost automatically. She had wanted to see her mother again at some point in her life, though she hadn’t really been actively looking for her, but she didn’t expect to see her so soon, if at all. Exchanging pleasantries with the woman who gave her life felt almost plastic.
Galiah didn’t want to answer her daughter’s question. How could she tell the child she abandoned about her guilt and frustration and the pain in her soul? Her saiyan pride wouldn’t let her. Instead, she settled for a lie.
“Oh, just fantastic as usual, you know. You know me, always… having a blast. Or giving one. Heh heh…”
Both women knew that the other felt awkward and unsure.
“But, I guess I’ve forgotten my manners. It looks like you’ve gone and gotten yourself in the same mess I did when I was your age, huh,” taking her hand from Ceres’, she examined Zechariah from head to tail to toe. “Well, at least he’s a saiyan. I give you points there, Ceres.” She sniffed, “Hm, probably only half a saiyan. Just like you. But you two look… happy. I’m sure that’s… a wonderful thing you’re feeling.” So much for presenting herself with proper etiquette. She wasn’t quite sure whether to be happy for her daughter, envious of her, or enraged.
Galiah saw the potential Ceres had when she was a child. It hadn’t seemed like much at the time, but she thought that with enough training, it would grow and blossom. But after those years with almost no success in aiding Ceres’ progression closer towards imitating her ancestral warrior heritage, she had given up. A family was no place for a fighter, she believed. She couldn’t raise a child, much less a half-breed warrior. She knew it had been a mistake when she fell for that human Isysian boy and had his child. It would only end in pain for all involved. And it had, at least for her. She knew nothing of her husband and daughter after she left. And that’s the way she had wanted it. Until recently.
“Yes,” Ceres replied, moving closer to her husband and pecking him on the cheek. “We’re very happy.”
“And what a charming thing to be wed in the same place your father was born and raised. Nice choice,” she winked almost pleasantly.
“Y-yes… Of course it is.” Is that why Ceres had felt drawn to this place when they had arrived? She had never really known where her father was from. He had kept it a secret from her, like he did about her saiyan heritage. She didn’t really mind it, but she thought it would be nice to know more about her own family and its origins. She wouldn’t let Galiah know that Mr. Izumi had kept her in the dark these nineteen years.
She smiled at her mother. Galiah returned it, looking from her daughter to her son-in-law. For a moment, it was a warm maternal smile. But then she flustered.
“Well, I didn’t expect to ever see you again, my dear. And now that I have, I almost didn’t expect to see you make the same mistakes I did. But then again, it doesn’t surprise me all that much. You always did seem that type,” Galiah turned her gaze to Zack as she spoke to her daughter.
Ceres’ face turned a bizarre shade of red that Zack had probably never seen before on his wife’s complexion. “Mom, you know I always tried so hard to be like you, to fight hard and never lose. You know I how badly I wanted to be good enough. I still do, Mom.”
“Yes, you wanted it. But it never happened. I’m not sure whether to blame your father, his genes, or my insufficient training.” Or my terror at having to raise a child and my subsequent cowardly departure.
“Do we have to talk about this now, Mom? After fourteen years, don’t you think we should start on a happy note? Or at least not begin with fault this and fault that? Today is my freaking wedding day, for crying out loud! Why do we only have to talk about training and fighting and being good enough and strong enough and fast enough and skilled enough? Haven’t you changed at all in fourteen years? Can’t we just forget the past? If not forever, then at least for right now? I’m willing. Are you? ” She looked from the face of one family member to the other. “Don’t you want to know more about the new addition to our family, Mom?”
Galiah scraped the toe of her boot on the asphalt through the puddle.
“Well, if y’all don’t need a taxi, then I’m gonna go find someone who does! At least I’ll get paid,” the taxi driver, who had been nosily watching the scene, got bored and voiced his departure before he drove off down the road. But nobody seemed to really care much that he had left.
“We might forget,” was all Galiah could find voice enough to say.
Did she know this woman? She thought she did. Or had. Long ago. But then she turned out to be someone she didn’t expect. Then again, it hadn’t been such a surprise, so maybe she had expected it but just denied the possibilities because she didn’t want them to become real. But real they became. And now it brought them here, which really was a surprise. She took a step forward out of Zechariah’s grasp.
“Zechariah,” Ceres continued to stare at the woman in front of them as she gestured towards her. “I’d like you to meet your mother-in-law.”
Galiah mostly just stared at her daughter. What, no greeting? No warm hug? Not surprising. I don’t blame her a bit, she thought to herself. She wasn’t sure what to do next. She had jumped into this situation unexpectedly and hadn’t planned her next steps. Though what else could she expect, since she wasn’t entirely sure why she got herself into this in the first place.
Ceres also didn’t know what to do. Part of her wanted to run back to the warmth of her husbands embrace, part of her wanted to rush toward her mother and just be held by her as if she were five again. She settled for somewhere in the middle and reached behind herself for Zechariah’s hand and held out her other toward Galiah.
“It’s been a while, Ceres,” Galiah felt almost stupid for using practically the most cliché line in existence. She took her daughter’s offered hand in her own and squeezed it. The gesture felt slightly awkward: Their family hadn’t really been one of physical affection—at least, not when she had been a part of it.
“How’ve you been, Mom?” Ceres said almost automatically. She had wanted to see her mother again at some point in her life, though she hadn’t really been actively looking for her, but she didn’t expect to see her so soon, if at all. Exchanging pleasantries with the woman who gave her life felt almost plastic.
Galiah didn’t want to answer her daughter’s question. How could she tell the child she abandoned about her guilt and frustration and the pain in her soul? Her saiyan pride wouldn’t let her. Instead, she settled for a lie.
“Oh, just fantastic as usual, you know. You know me, always… having a blast. Or giving one. Heh heh…”
Both women knew that the other felt awkward and unsure.
“But, I guess I’ve forgotten my manners. It looks like you’ve gone and gotten yourself in the same mess I did when I was your age, huh,” taking her hand from Ceres’, she examined Zechariah from head to tail to toe. “Well, at least he’s a saiyan. I give you points there, Ceres.” She sniffed, “Hm, probably only half a saiyan. Just like you. But you two look… happy. I’m sure that’s… a wonderful thing you’re feeling.” So much for presenting herself with proper etiquette. She wasn’t quite sure whether to be happy for her daughter, envious of her, or enraged.
Galiah saw the potential Ceres had when she was a child. It hadn’t seemed like much at the time, but she thought that with enough training, it would grow and blossom. But after those years with almost no success in aiding Ceres’ progression closer towards imitating her ancestral warrior heritage, she had given up. A family was no place for a fighter, she believed. She couldn’t raise a child, much less a half-breed warrior. She knew it had been a mistake when she fell for that human Isysian boy and had his child. It would only end in pain for all involved. And it had, at least for her. She knew nothing of her husband and daughter after she left. And that’s the way she had wanted it. Until recently.
“Yes,” Ceres replied, moving closer to her husband and pecking him on the cheek. “We’re very happy.”
“And what a charming thing to be wed in the same place your father was born and raised. Nice choice,” she winked almost pleasantly.
“Y-yes… Of course it is.” Is that why Ceres had felt drawn to this place when they had arrived? She had never really known where her father was from. He had kept it a secret from her, like he did about her saiyan heritage. She didn’t really mind it, but she thought it would be nice to know more about her own family and its origins. She wouldn’t let Galiah know that Mr. Izumi had kept her in the dark these nineteen years.
She smiled at her mother. Galiah returned it, looking from her daughter to her son-in-law. For a moment, it was a warm maternal smile. But then she flustered.
“Well, I didn’t expect to ever see you again, my dear. And now that I have, I almost didn’t expect to see you make the same mistakes I did. But then again, it doesn’t surprise me all that much. You always did seem that type,” Galiah turned her gaze to Zack as she spoke to her daughter.
Ceres’ face turned a bizarre shade of red that Zack had probably never seen before on his wife’s complexion. “Mom, you know I always tried so hard to be like you, to fight hard and never lose. You know I how badly I wanted to be good enough. I still do, Mom.”
“Yes, you wanted it. But it never happened. I’m not sure whether to blame your father, his genes, or my insufficient training.” Or my terror at having to raise a child and my subsequent cowardly departure.
“Do we have to talk about this now, Mom? After fourteen years, don’t you think we should start on a happy note? Or at least not begin with fault this and fault that? Today is my freaking wedding day, for crying out loud! Why do we only have to talk about training and fighting and being good enough and strong enough and fast enough and skilled enough? Haven’t you changed at all in fourteen years? Can’t we just forget the past? If not forever, then at least for right now? I’m willing. Are you? ” She looked from the face of one family member to the other. “Don’t you want to know more about the new addition to our family, Mom?”
Galiah scraped the toe of her boot on the asphalt through the puddle.
“Well, if y’all don’t need a taxi, then I’m gonna go find someone who does! At least I’ll get paid,” the taxi driver, who had been nosily watching the scene, got bored and voiced his departure before he drove off down the road. But nobody seemed to really care much that he had left.
“We might forget,” was all Galiah could find voice enough to say.