Undefined - The Zephyr Book 1 ? (completed)(#Wattys2016)

Chapter 6 - Syianne

6 - Syianne
It's April and today is my birthday. Nita helped mom bake my favourite cheesecake and our next door neighbour Dora made those raisin biscuits that I like so I'd have something to eat on the way. There is quite a crowd at my house; many people I never expected to come showed up. Only Dad who very suddenly veered into his depression is up in his bedroom upstairs.

Although the living room is decorated with pink balloons and red ribbons, and the food is delicious and everyone is wearing their best party clothes, this party doesn't feel like my birthday party.

It feels like my funeral.

And the people who came, all the neighbours and some kids from school, aren't here for me, they're here to mourn, along with my parents and brother, the loss of their daughter, sister, Syianne Locke –

May she rest in peace and may the Zephyr bless her soul.

But for this day, for this festival of loss, I had been preparing my entire short life. I watch the faces in the room; I see oceans of tears falling from my mother's eyes, and none of this touches me, I never waver, I stand strong as a stone, deep as a lake.

Dead as a ghost.

*

Before I have to leave, I mount the stairs and walk down the corridor into my parents' bedroom. It's dark, but I can still see my dad's silhouette against the window as he sits barefoot in what we called the 'depression chair' and stares outside.

I can't really describe how much it hurts to see someone you love in so much pain, but it's a familiar hurt. It just goes to show that you can get used to anything. I'm not afraid to approach my dad when he's like this – I'm used to it. I pad across the room, sit on the armrest of the chair and hug his head, planting a kiss on his bald-spot.

I don't tell him that I'm going to miss him; I don't tell him that I love him, "I'll call when I get there," I say. My emotions, even if they're there, are not spoken aloud.

"If I can," I add, because I don't even know if they have phones in there, I'm leaving my own cellphone behind, my parents paid for it and it's not right to depend on them. I stroke his thinning hair, as if he's a pet dog; we sit like this in silence for a while. Finally, I start getting up – I have a train to catch.

He grasps my arm, stopping me. "Syianne," he manages through the fogs of despair, his voice is quiet, void of any energy. "Lemonade," he whispers and lets go of my arm.

I gasp, but he doesn't notice. I pad silently out of the room, closing the door behind me.

*

A whole lot of people escort Art and me to the train station; so many that three rail-cars arrive to take our party. My town, Sobortis, like all the towns in Rockdem County, has recently been installed with the rail-car system instead of taxis, private cars and buses. In every house there's a rail-car caller, using a simple touch screen on which you state the number of your party, whether or not you have luggage and the address to which you wish to drive. In less than three minutes the rail cars arrive, we mount them, the doors lock, and we silently zoom away to the train station.

Art and I booked bunks in the 1:00 AM train. It takes five hours to reach Rockdem City, and neither one of us spends that time sleeping. I pour out my soul into every kiss, every embrace, every caress.

By the time we reach Rockdem we're both starving for more of each other.

Now we must separate.

We eat breakfast in one of the of cafés in the huge Rockdem train terminal. It's the most beautiful building I've ever seen, with a high doming glass ceiling that's been angled to look like crystals, through which you can see the bright dawn sky. The floor is made out of long slabs of shining light-blue marble that brightly reflects the light. The place had been designed to give you the feeling that from here you can go anywhere.