Mail Order Mom

“She didn’t. Kessra did.”

“Who?”

“Kessra. A girl in our class.”

That sounded worse and worse with every answer I got.

“Does the teacher know? The principal? How about your dad?”

“No.” Illal shook her head vehemently, her long ponytail swaying behind her back. “Ene doesn’t want anyone to know. She just went to the bathroom with her craft scissors and cut whatever Kessra had missed to make it more even. Then she put it up in bunches. But now Kessra is making fun of her. She says Ene looks like a boy.”

“That girl cut your sister’s hair without permission? Now, she’s making fun of her? What a little b—” I barely managed to stop in time before the swear word would’ve left my mouth. “Your father needs to know about this,” I fumed, planning a retaliation. “The school most definitely has to know too. And Kessra’s parents—”

“No.” Illal grabbed on to my skirt. “Please don’t tell anyone, Susanna. Ene will get angry with me for telling you. She’s so upset already.”

I immediately felt deflated. The entire thing felt way over my head.

“Well, then... How do we fix this?” I didn’t think twice before asking for advice from an eleven-year-old, “What do I do, Illal?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged.

So much for relying on help from a kid.

“Maybe I should try talking to her?” I asked hesitantly. Maybe I could get Ene to agree to let me speak to someone more qualified to handle this than me. “Where did she go?”

“To Mommy's room, probably,” Illal replied casually.

“Where?” I really hoped I’d misheard her.

“Mommy’s room. Ene always hides there when she’s upset. It’s that way.” She waved in the direction where her sister had disappeared to.

I didn’t recall Xavran saying anything about any rooms that way.

“Can you show me, please?” I asked Illal.

“Sure.” Dropping her bag on the floor again, Illal took me down a path behind the hedge that I’d thought was the northern border of the garden.

“Here it is.” She pointed at the opening in the hedge. It could be easily missed because of another hedge growing right behind it. One had to walk around it to enter the room.

This part of the gardens looked somewhat neglected compared to the rest of Xavran’s well-maintained home.

Illal stopped at the entrance, visibly hesitating.

“Are you coming in with me?” I asked, not hiding the hope in my voice. It felt eerie to be here on my own. I wasn’t looking forward to finding out what was in that room.

“No. I don’t want to go in.” Illal shook her head. “I need to put away my school bag, remember?”

Off she ran.

I rubbed the back of my neck, fighting the strong desire to follow Illal and leave, when the soft sounds of sobbing came from behind the hedge.

“Ene?” I asked quietly, stepping around the scruffy hedge and into an equally neglected space behind it.

Ene sat on the floor, her arms folded on the bed, her head dropped on them, her small shoulders shaking with sobs. The sight of her so small and sad, in this dark, obviously abandoned place, broke my heart.

“Ene?” I rushed to her.

“Go away!” she yelled, without lifting her head.

I wished I could do as she demanded and just get out. I really had no idea what I was doing here, in the first place. But she was clearly miserable, and I couldn't just leave her.

I shifted from foot to foot, clutching my hands in front of me and respectfully keeping my distance.

“I thought you could use some company,” I said tentatively. “Crying is not fun. But crying while all alone is even less so.”

“I’m not crying.” She sniffled, lifted her head, and wiped her face with the old bedspread.

How long had this bedding been on this bed? Green saplings were growing through the fabric, it seemed to be becoming part of the nature around it.

Ene sniffled again, tossing me a glare from under her brow. “You can’t be here.”

The skin around her eyes turned red and puffy, her cheeks smeared with tears and stained with dark blotches. The pigtails all over her head stuck out chaotically, some pointing straight up, others drooping.

“This is Mommy’s room,” she declared. “Only Mommy and I can be here.”

Chills ran down my spine. I glanced around, half-expecting to see the ghost of the dead woman hovering nearby. Then, an equally chilling suspicion rose in my mind. What if the poor girl wasn’t well?

“Do you see your mother here?” I asked, trying to keep my voice as gentle as possible.

“Yeah. Don’t you?” She pointed at the framed picture on the grass mound by the bed that served as a nightstand.

In the picture, a heavily pregnant Aldraian woman smiled broadly, her arms folded over her huge belly.

“Is that your mom?”

Ene nodded somberly.

This was the first time I’d seen an image of Xavran’s late wife. She seemed happy, her smile flirty. I wondered if he was the one who took the picture and if that smile was meant for him. Stefan had said Xavran was madly in love with his late wife.

“Did your dad put it here?” I asked.

“No.” Ene shook her head, making all her pigtails flop and wag. “I did. Grandma gave it to me.”

“What was your mother’s name?”

“Gelnall.”

“It’s pretty.”

She sighed. “It is. I’m in there.” Ene poked her finger at the woman’s stomach. “My brothers and Illal too. All of us are together in this picture.”

Except for Xavran. He wasn’t there. Unless, of course, he took it. The picture must have been taken not long before the accident.

I rubbed my upper arms with my hands. “So, you come here when you’re upset? Does it make you feel better?”

“Yes, it does.” She stuck out her chin in challenge. “Because Mommy loved me. More than anyone does.” There was a firm conviction in her voice, but when she lifted her gaze to me, she looked unsure. Questioning.

Was she expecting me to confirm that?

“Of course, she loved you,” I said. “That’s what mommies do. They love their children.”

My words seem to pacify her a little. She nodded, staring at the grass on the ground in front of her. “Does your mom love you, too?”

“My mom... She’s no longer alive,” I said cautiously.

Ene gazed at me with interest. “Is she dead, like mine?”

Like mine.

The words were more accurate than she knew since my mother also died in a plane crash. I decided it was best not to mention that detail right now.

“Yes. She’s been dead for six years.”

“But did she love you when she was alive?”