Going home was never the pleasant experience poetry dictated it should be, not for Aveline. But she had run clean out of excuses, each letter she’d received somehow containing more guilt than the next. It was to the point where simply seeing the familiar parchment of her mother’s stationary made her stomach drop. The longer she tried to put off opening it, the larger it grew in her head, taking over the desk and all other correspondences until she at last slit it open with the resigned panic of war prisoner set to meet her execution at last.
We are well, her mother assured her, save for the pain of your absence. Aveline always rolled her eyes at the sentiment, convinced the money she sent on the regular was more than enough to ease any such sorrows.
She’d never been close with her mother or her brothers, and her biological father was not a man she entertained any notion of reconciliation with. It didn’t matter that the injury he’d caused her adoptive father had been an accident, or that he had shown her paternal affection despite the infidelity her birth was proof of. All she had to do was recall every lost, confused, then guilty expression of her adoptive father whenever he couldn’t recall where he was or why he happened to be holding a sack of coin in hand.
That innocent panic of his before she explained that they were headed to the show he’d been looking forward to, and that what he was holding was the simple payment given to him after dropping off a promised shipment of medicine on their way — no apology could fix that. No number of ‘sorry’s and ‘I didn’t mean to’s would make it any less difficult to explain to her real father, over and over again, what was happening and why it was happening when all she wanted was to spend a simple, happy evening visiting the man who never should have loved her.
But it could never be so simple as avoiding the faces and voices that brought all her old feelings up from under her skin. Now her bothers had married; there were nieces and nephews to spoil, mild ailments of aging to remind her of her mother’s mortality, and a compounding sense of familial responsibility she had never escaped.
Aveline was not a son: she would never inherit the farm, nor had the land been of any real consequence to her livelihood once she had left the village. But she was still the eldest, and by far the most financially successful, and despite the emasculation, her father and brothers had benefitted greatly from her contributions over the years. The farm, as she was often told, was thriving and expanding thanks to the newly hired hands, tools, plants, and all other investments that had brought the once humble landscape into extensive orchards capable of sustaining the quickly growing line of Durands.
She couldn’t deny that a part of her still, despite all reason, was planted firmly in that farm. As the carriage rolled down the road, she was surprised by how little had changed over the years. The overgrown streams were still overgrown, long grass grasping at the energetic splash of water that escaped with crisp, melodious sound. It suddenly felt not so long ago that she explored those slippery rocks barefoot, braving the wicked chill as she searched for colorful pebbles to collect.
It was her home itself that had changed the most. The carriage came to a halt at a place she never would have recognized had it not been for the orchards surrounding it. Gone was the humble cabin — a cozy one room affair with a loft where the whole family had slept. In its place was the sort of town house she might have expected within Gridania, more than three times the original’s size replete with a second story and three chimneys.
“Time has been good to us all.” Aveline murmured to herself as she stepped out of the carriage, one hand occupied with a large bag. She gave the coach a handsome tip, but scarcely managed to turn around before not a few, but six children came bounding out of the front door.
The eldest (or so she assumed, the girl being the tallest among the gaggle) stopped short a few feet of embracing her, instead throwing her arms up excitedly in a bright, “Auntie Aveline!” The other children joined her in a semicircle with the same chorus, and Aveline was suddenly helpless with awkwardness. Being the eldest of her siblings, unmarried, and utterly foreign in the place that was once her home, even ‘hello’ felt strange on her lips. Did she call these charming strangers darlings?
“Aveline!” Ah, that sharp, high voice meant to be softened with affection could belong only to her mother. Though far from elderly, her mother’s face had new wrinkles, and though she hastened without delay toward her daughter, Aveline could tell that her knee was still giving her trouble.
“Mother.” Aveline tightened in her mother’s embrace, suddenly and guiltily wishing that she’d been stolen up by her niece’s arms instead. Those young eyes were so bright and innocent in their childish delight — no expectation, no disappointment, just wonderment at the mysterious woman their grandmother had undoubtedly spoken of.
Her mother, on the other hand, noticed this off-putting tension immediately, and disapproval muddied her gaze as she stood back with her hands on her daughter’s shoulders. “Aveline, what sort of greeting is that after all this time? Your father and I have been aching to see you!”
Aveline grit her teeth. Of all the words she might have said, those were among the worst. That she should feel any familial guilt over that man was a notion capable of making her turn her back there and then to run after the carriage that was already trotting off.
But Aveline had been raised to be a polite girl, and the reservedness she saved for the most difficult of her apothecary clients was in full force. “I’m sorry, Mother — it was such a long trip. But I’m delighted to see all my nephews and nieces in such good health. As ever, you look lovely in blue.”
Her mother glowed at the compliment and gave her shoulders a squeeze before leading her inside along with the gaggle of children. Everything afterward was a blur of activity. There wasn’t even time to feel further awkwardness, for she was reintroduced to her brothers’ wives, their children, and the veritable waterfall of things that had changed about the Durand farm. Their well-to-do lifestyle was obvious in every detail, from the crisp cusp and polished buttons of her brothers’ shirts to the small but comfortable sitting room near the front of the house. Here was a proper growing estate where the Durand name might take root and thrive for generations.
And she had no place in it.
Not that she was unwelcome, of course. Her nieces and nephews gushed over the presents she had brought them, pastries from her shoppe with dolls and toys thrown into the mix for good measure. Young children were easy to buy gifts for, and their pure adoration for so simple a gesture made Aveline happy in a way she’d not felt in a very long time.
She found, too, that her sisters-in-law were easy women to get along with, mild and kind-spirited and far more than her brothers deserved — a point they smirked at when they saw her sisterly admonition cast over her shoulder. Though her brothers still couldn’t pass on their old habits of teasing her, the barbs had diminished greatly with age. She didn’t know them as well as she might have liked to, she realized, and a sudden emptiness threatened to claim a sliver of her heart. How much had she missed, and was all her time spent away as worthwhile as she liked to believe?
It took only the entrance of her father to remind her that it had not been so. The room felt stifling the moment he entered. He was a tall man, a proper elezen with the lean musculature and pointed ears to prove it. He all but loomed over the gathering of hyurs, entirely out of place with his elegantly angled features. Even his poise was different and she hated it, that natural grace not at all in line with a family of humble farmers.
How was it, after so many years, that her rage could bubble so hotly to the surface? There was no provocation in his expression, just a deep sorrow and gentle resignation in the face of her rejection. He asked nothing from her, no affection and no acknowledgment, greeting her gently and assuring her that she was welcome.
And that just made her angrier. She wanted desperately to hate him as the villain he was, to charge him as a negligent, cruel, awful man, but it was plain his place was firmly rooted in the home. Her brothers admired him, her mother unrepentantly loved him, and his direction had undeniably been key in turning the poor fortune of the Durand family around. Aveline had merely speeded along the careful seeds he had sown, and one look at the gorgeous orchards peeking from the windows assured her of this.
Thus, all the awkwardness returned once the children had settled and she was left in the company of adults and exceptionally delicious apricot wine. As the sun set, casting a warm glow about the sitting room, conversation slowed, turned serious, and she was faced with the questions she’d feared the most.
“Are you never going to settle down, Aveline? You always go on about your bistro and that apothecary of yours, but never your personal life. I hate to imagine you lonely.” Her mother’s face was all concern, though the last of her words pierced Aveline’s pride with the subtlety of a lightning bolt.
Aveline’s hand tightened around the curve of her wine glass, but she let the sensation go almost immediately. Had she been a male, she mused, a lifestyle of keeping lovers in lieu of marrying would have made her an eclectic, but not unredeemable rake. As a woman, however, she might as well have been a spinster. An artist or businesswoman could still have merit in the eyes of her family, of course, but to lack a man with a ring on his finger was lacking all the same.
“I’m many things, but not lonely. I’ve lovers who bring great enrichment to my life and that is all I desire.” Aveline struggled to reign in her smile as her mother gasped (and frankly, the rest of the room’s company as well), the latter caught completely off guard by her daughter’s unmistakably proud admission.
“Such men can’t provide you with a family, my dear. Do you not want a family?” Of course her mother pressed the issue, her shameless hypocrisy making Aveline’s ears hot. That wretched man sitting beside her mother, her birth father by all technical terms, had sired her as a bastard child. The father of her brothers, the man her mother had married, was the selfsame person who had been injured and willing to die some place quiet after coming to the ridiculous conclusion that the shameless elezen in front of her could provide for the family better than he ever could.
She wanted to scream. She wanted to ruin her mother’s new dress and shatter her wine glass at the woman’s feet. Her whole body trembled with fury, and she very nearly forgot the question entirely. It took every onze of willpower in her body to restrain herself, and the fury slowly, painfully cooled into ice. Silence filled the room while she did nothing but sip from her glass.
“Mother…” Oliver, the youngest of her two brothers, had enough sense to intervene, but not the words to do so effectively. Did he share the same sentiment, even in the smallest way? The full intensity of Aveline’s gaze fell on him like daggers. The way he recoiled, stunned and penitent, made her sick with the realization that he simply wished to avoid conflict. How prudent of him, wanting to keep the peace at the price of bottling all her ugly feelings away.
But it was selfish, to step back into their lives and cause a scene. Here was blissful happiness, a simple life managing orchards and making fruit products. All the old wounds had been forgiven and healed over years ago. They didn’t need an emotional knife to start the bleeding again.
Aveline ignored the throbbing in her head as her mind wrested full control of her emotions, twisting them so they could fit back into the depths of her chest. Her voice wouldn’t shake, but it remained empty when she spoke. “It’s quite fine, Oliver. What I want from my lovers isn’t a traditional thing. On all accounts, they lead lives far more exciting than I do. To tie them down in any regard, be it to my particular lifestyle or as my only devoted partner, would bring no one happiness.”
“Oh, Aveline, you’ve always been so unselfish. But you seem so unhappy, and I—”
Aveline cut her mother off with a not-quite-subtle thud of her hand against a nearby end table as she set her glass down. She stood quickly, brushing off her skirt with one quick, angry flourish. “The orchards have been calling to me since I first laid eyes on them. Please do excuse me while I catch some fresh air.”
Who in the seven hells was her mother to decide whether or not she was happy? A woman didn’t bask in adultery and presume her bastard child’s life would be a happy one. If anything, Aveline decided, she had learned how be happy despite her mother’s infuriating weakness. She took these feelings out on a pebble as she kicked her way along one of the orchard’s paths, finding petty satisfaction in its helpless skitter before her fury.
At length, she came across a stream marking the end of the orchard. The sun had set some time ago, leaving the world washed in pale moonlight. Beyond the water lay the forest proper, deep and dark with the tall shade of trees obscuring everything. She was utterly alone.
Something inside her snapped at last. “You half-witted, pompous strumpet! How dare you! How dare you pass judgment on my life! You weak, disdainful, miserable cretin, basking in some bastard’s love while father suffers! You have… no right…”
Her whole body trembled as she shouted into the trees, the world silently absorbing her furious tumble of insults. It still wasn’t enough. Forgetting all decorum, she bent over, snatching up pebbles and twigs to toss into the stream. They made a wonderful cacophony of splashes, but more importantly, helped to temper her outburst through simple exhaustion. A few of the flatter stones even managed to skip a few times across the water before disappearing forever.
“If I’d been your son, you’d be celebrating my success!” Splunk! “But you abandoned father! You abandoned me!” Sploosh! “What sort of mother speaks of marriage when she has no dowry set aside? You selfish, ungrateful—” Aveline had escalated to the biggest rock she could lift without hurting herself, slinging it into the water with the force of both arms. It made a magnificent splash high enough to reach her, the cold water splattering over her dress like a furious downpour of rain.
Her eyes were wild and wide as she glared down at the water. Breathless and bent over her knees, all she felt was an empty sense of satisfaction for having let the words out. How long had they bubbled under her every smile? She hated every reminder of such feelings, all of them irrevocably leading back to her mother. Weak. How could a woman be so weak?
And why did she still feel so angry over it? Any rational person would tell her she was overreacting — the rational voice in her head said as much. She was deep into her twenties and far beyond blaming any insecurities on her parents. The past just insisted on being so very present, her mother’s incessant happiness, her happy family and idyllic life hammering deeper every miserable memory she had of her father.
Even as a child, scarcely a decade old, she’d sensed death in her adoptive father’s intention when he left home. There had been a panic in her she hadn’t understood, an urgency that warned her she might never see him again. No matter how old she grew, she’d never forget his gaunt face, defeated and hopeless as he sat listlessly beside the road.
“Go back home, Darling,” He’d told her. And she’d refused, clinging to his sleeve as she sat next to him. He was too numb to consider her feelings, and found himself rambling on about his every insecurity. His wife didn’t love him — she was better off with a man who could make her happy. He’d mucked up his first ever attempt at running a farm, threatening starvation on his own kin — they were better off with a competent man who could keep them fed. He no longer had a reliable mind, the head injury impairing much of his ability to remember the most basic things throughout the day — he was better off without himself.
Every day since, she had battled his each and every defeat. Before he gave up his merchant business peddling goods across the realm, he had been a competent and optimistic man. So she told him to be a merchant again, and like an old man remembering how to skip, he’d found some friends, some debts, and took to the road as if he’d been born for it.
He’d needed help at every step, too. When he inevitably bumbled a deal or forgot where he’d put his earnings, she’d been there to take on odd jobs to keep them fed. When he got them lost on a long road between cities, she’d been there to forage and shelter and guide them back on the right track. She still remembered how much the hunger had hurt, how scary those dark nights alone were. But there had been happy moments, too, gazing under the stars and having her first earned coin dropped into her hands.
Over time, it had gotten easier. She’d matured rapidly and learned quickly how the world far beyond her village worked. And, in time, her father had found some comfort and shelter in an old friend from Gridania. The blessed woman offered him food and shelter on the pretense that he manage her stable’s finances and help look after the chocobos. More than that, she genuinely cared for him, perhaps even loved him, given the looks she saw them exchange when they thought she wasn’t looking.
She had no reason to be bitter, not with her fortune, her lovers, and all that had evolved in her favor. And yet, standing amid the familial bliss of her mother’s farm, she felt pity for the girl who had parented herself into adulthood. There was no shaking the feeling that something precious had been taken from her, yet she had no right to feel that she was lacking in anything.
“Are… Are you alright, Aveline?” Colin, the oldest between her brothers, was timid as he approached. The crunch of his footsteps was followed by the warm glow of lantern light.
Her senses returned to her abruptly, and she absently wiped at her damp cheeks before turning around to face him. “I’m fine. There’s no cause to worry.”
Colin bit his lip, and her stomach twisted at the thought of what he might have overheard. “I’m glad. I heard shouting.”
Oh. Well. “I might have been letting off some steam. There’s nothing you need concern yourself over.” Her expression was a guilty one, and the streaks of mud her hands had left on her cheeks didn’t add any dignity to the moment.
“I see.” Colin’s gaze lingered, brimming with concern, but all that followed his simple statement was a long and awkward silence. “You can tell me about it if you want.”
Aveline blinked, surprised. She expected him to urge her back to the house, not to expand on her irrational outburst even more. “There’s really nothing to say. Not more, at least.”
Her brother shifted uncomfortably before stepping closer. When he saw the extent of her dampened clothes, the line of his mouth flattened into yet more concern. “May I see you back home? It wouldn’t be right if you caught a cold.”
Her pride and a stronger need to be alone very nearly turned him down, but they’d set aside a guest room for her and it would be significantly warmer than the evening air steadily giving her goosebumps. She sighed and relented with a nod, placated by her brother’s worry.
The walk back was a slow and quiet one. Were it not for the perfect silence, she likely wouldn’t have heard his muttering.
Aveline lofted a brow at this curious confession, not having expected it in the least. “I beg your pardon? Not about Mother, surely.”
“It’s more to do with you.” Colin ducked his head, uncharacteristically bashful. “I haven’t been much of a brother.”
“You can’t blame yourself for the distance of our parents. Though you were a miserable tease when we were younger, it’s nice to see that you’ve outgrown the worst of it. I don’t know how your wife would stand you otherwise.” Her smile turned wry — it was good to tease him as a sister should.
Her brother answered with a faint snort. “Lily always felt so delicate to me. You know how she struggled carrying our first child, and the first thought that came to my mind was that if anyone could help, it was you. You’ve always been so far ahead of me, strong and untouchable. I was so foolish, never thinking of how vulnerable you must have felt.”
“Where… is this coming from?” Aveline felt a prickle of something uncomfortable. Her brother had never been one for feelings, and she frankly hadn’t been one, either.
“I just…” Colin rubbed at the back of his neck, never meeting her gaze. “I just want you to know you’re not alone. I know I’m too late, and I’m a poor excuse for family, but this is your home, too. No matter how you feel about Mother, you have a place here if you ever want it.”
Aveline didn’t know what to say, and silence fell naturally between them again. On the one hand, she was perfectly ready to inform him that she would never want a place where her mother resided, but it wasn’t an offer from her mother. For once, utterly independent of his family, Colin had decided to be a brother.
“Thank you.” The two words were the most she could manage in the moment. All other thoughts led to old pains and complications she was too tired to consider, and so it was a brief and awkward goodnight when she finally stepped into her room.
