When I am thirteen, I tell myself:
“You don’t know that much, do you?”
The eight year old blinks, with my hazel eyes, and asks “what do you mean?”
“You can close your eyes. You don’t even think about the costs you heap on everyone around you.”
“What do you mean?” She asks, tears in her eyes “ what do you - I do care! I’m not like that!”
Incidents spring to mind for me - and they spring to mind for her to. I remember it. “You aren’t good enough for everything you cost Mama and Papa.”
“That’s not true!” She replies. She’s stuffed her hands in her ears like a moron, like that’ll keep the truth out.
“They don’t actually love you, you know. You’re a child of obligation.” It’s easy to make the word stretch out, to have it play in all her nerves.
“Stop!” She screams, high and shrill, and just like that she leaves.
And I blink. I say nothing, have said too much, and she wipes her tears away before she fades fully.
The girl in front of me is older this time, but our eyes stay the same.
“That was cruel.” She says, like she wouldn’t do the exact same thing.
“It was true.” I say instead. Because that was something inarguable - because if I had so much as a inch of space, I knew I’d wedge myself through.
She sighs, and leans against the back wall. Her eyes are hard, flinty, and they feel like weights on my shoulders.
“Remember to keep on top of your work. And don’t start skipping sleep - if you do, it becomes a problem. And try to pay attention during geometry.”
“I won’t do any of it, you know.”
“I know.” She says. “I remember. You’re useless.”
My hands clench, suddenly, and I can’t help but look away. She doesn’t even look angry, is the thing - she looks resigned. Tired.
Accepting. Just rolling over, expecting me to do all the hard work.
“You could do it too, you know.” I hiss, and her eyes flash. Something that tastes like victory rolls through my veins, and I continue. “You could be better. In fact it’s your job - your the older one after all. You have experience.”
“Shut up.” She says, her voice shaking. “Shut up. You don’t know what your talking about.”
She grabs for my wrist, and I freeze. She swallows, before letting go, and waving me away.
She’s tremendously angry, this one, when I appear.
“Hello. Didn’t go how you hoped?”
“Don’t be cruel.” She snaps. Oh, wasn’t she a hypocrite.
“You should treat yourself better.” I continue. “Really, it’s be hard to be much worse.”
“I won’t make your life easier just cause you want me to.” She says, and I control the urge to roll my eyes.
“Us at thirteen was kinda unbearable, not gonna lie, so I won’t blame you completely for not controlling yourself. But we could have handled that better, too.”
“Enough.” She snapped. “Do you have something to say? Or can I go back?”
“I’ve said it already. Be kind to yourself.”
“I am kind. Too kind. That’s the problem.” And I try not to flinch - as much at thirteen was bad, fifteen was worse.
“Be kind enough to do the hard things. Everything good comes at a cost, after all.”
“I can’t.” She says, abruptly, helplessly. “I’ve tried.”
“So keep trying.” I reply. “You have nothing to loose. I promise you.”
She bites her lip. “Does it work?” She - I - ask. It’s an easy answer, and one I already know I’ll give.
“Not as well as you’re hoping. But it isn’t nothing, either.”
She sighs, and turns, and I grab her wrist. She looks back up to me, her shoulders tense.
I run my fingers over her arm, gently. “I am proud of you. Of what you’ve done, and what you can do.”
She leaves, then, with suspiciously bright eyes.
After that, another hazel eyed woman passes through. And unlike me, she is a woman - proper, not just past the cusp of childhood.
She presses me into a hug. That is... surprising.
“You’ve done so well.” She chokes into my shoulder. It takes some time to relax into her grip. “And you’ll do even better.”
Her fingers clear away the tears in my eyes. “Will I?”
“Yes.” She says. “I am happy - so happy, I can choke on it most days. You will never be as warm as you’ll be when you are me.”
“You promise?” I ask, and I feel like a child again, but she gives me a bubbling laugh, and a smile.
“I promise.” She says, and holds me tight until it’s my time to go.
“I’ll miss you.” I say desperately, and she smiles.
“You carry me with you. Just remember to treat her well.”
