Chapter 14:
Lemonade
WHAT COULD SHE POSSIBLY CALL this feeling welling up inside of her? Neither on the verge of tears nor laughter, Violette felt as though she wanted to let her entire being sink deep to the bottom of a body of water. What would someone call this? Degradation? Dependency? Delusion? That was probably how people would describe the feeling, as if it were the symptom of an illness.
But to Violette, this illness was true love.
“What will we do about an heir…?” she asked.
“Maybe there’s a branch family. I’m out of the loop—I don’t know whether there is or not. If there isn’t, they can always get an heir somewhere else. Introducing me to the family ended the bloodline anyway.”
“What if we have a baby, but don’t love it?”
“Somebody else will love it for us.”
“As far as I’m concerned, I have no mother.”
“What a coincidence. Neither do I.”
“I might become like her.”
Giant teardrops bounced off the back of Violette’s hand. Each drew out a memory filled with the distorted face of that woman. That red, red woman. Violette had thought that the woman with eyes red as the thread of fate that bound them would kill her. The hands that caressed her cheeks, the warm arms that wrapped tightly around her. It all felt so disgusting that she could taste bile.
She was the only family Violette had known. The only parent. The only mother.
“Don’t worry, Vio.”
The big hand caressing her cheek, the slightly colder arms wrapped around her, the gaze directed toward her—they broke through the shadows of her past, revealing him. He smiled, and as his golden eyes sparkled at hers, their noses almost touching, the girl raised as a boy cried.
“Neither of us knows how to be loved, but we do know how to love, how to cherish.”
And Yulan had taught her all of that. When Violette couldn’t cherish anything—could only imagine destroying everything—he’d simply loved her, so she’d learned how to love too.
Their fingers interlaced, and their hands clasped; Yulan’s arms folded, holding her safe against his chest. As his entire being slowly but surely sank into Violette, he’d gradually melted her frozen heart. And she’d been able to fall in love with him, sinking willingly instead of drowning.
“Just because we’ve made our choice doesn’t mean the choice disappeared. We could make the opposite choice tomorrow or stick to the same one every day; you’re free to choose, Violette.”
Tears like giant pearls rolled down her cheeks to her jaw until Yulan’s knee absorbed them. Sheltered in her own little world, she’d thought that happiness would rain down on her if she simply sat there with her mouth open. For all Yulan’s gestures toward making her happy, she was scared that only she was happy. She certainly had her doubts too. Even if people pledged eternal love before God, they could betray so easily. She was scared that Yulan couldn’t love her forever if she were like a mere baby chick, sitting and waiting with her mouth open.
How foolish…
“Now I see…”
If a baby were born of their love, that would be one form of prosperity. On the other hand, if their lives ended with only the two of them in their family, that most definitely wouldn’t be a heartless ending. Desiring a child wasn’t proof of love.
It wasn’t that Violette didn’t want to see the life her love with Yulan might produce. They might someday bear a descendant, and they might remain barren for the rest of their lives. She didn’t wish for a child, but it wasn’t the case that she wanted not to have one. Until such a day came, she wouldn’t make any decisions one way or the other.
That was for the best. It was only natural that somebody who’d never had a family couldn’t imagine starting her own. And the idea that having a baby would make Yulan happy was just too shallow.
Yulan chuckled. “Your face is bright red. Want me to bring you a towel?”
“No, I’m all right. My head does feel a little fuzzy, though.”
“I wouldn’t call that all right. What if I bring a cold drink instead?”
“Yes, please. Chesuit has been making a new syrup recently, and it’s very good.”
“Oh? What flavor is it this time? It was sweet peach before, I remember.”
“You might like this one, Yulan. It’s a sweet-and-sour lemon syrup.”