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“I feel awful,” Petunia said, resting her chin on the table, her fingers tracing idle circles in the air, a haze of confusion and lost feeling drifting through her eyes.
“Because of the man who went abroad to study.” “Not entirely.” Petunia slowly turned her head, letting her right cheek rest gently against the table, her eyes fixed straight on Ruth.
Petunia’s voice was low and slightly hoarse, and there was more she wanted to say.
“Then why?” Ruth and Petunia had been practically inseparable lately, yet Ruth hadn’t noticed that anything else had happened to Petunia.
Right, Ruth had quit her old job and found a new one in this small town.
Petunia pressed both hands tightly against her head, as if trying to squeeze out the tangle of thoughts inside, and her eyes betrayed a deep sense of collapse and helplessness.
“His shadow fills my mind and I can’t shake it,” she groaned in anguish.
“My own body seems to be betraying me, constantly urging me to possess him.” “Then just act on it,” Ruth couldn’t help but urge, a note of expectation in her voice.
Petunia suddenly snapped upright, both hands clenching into fists, slamming them hard against the tabletop.
Her face was written over with anger and disgust.
“I hate him!
How could I possibly want to possess him?” “You’re a pretty strange case,” Ruth said, startled by Petunia’s reaction, though her curiosity about this man grew all the more intense.
She couldn’t help but ask, “What kind of person is he, exactly?
How did you two meet?
Tell me everything.” “How we met.” Petunia rested her chin on the table again, eyes drifting through the window toward some deep and distant memory.
“The first time I saw him, he was spying on my sister.” “Oh?” Ruth’s brow furrowed slightly at that.
She had always found that sort of thing tiresome, and couldn’t help but say, “Was he secretly in love with your sister?” “Perhaps.” Petunia let out a soft sigh, turning back to that time and finding it left a sour taste.
“He used to throw sticks at me, and once snooped through a letter I’d written.” “Did you two know each other as children?
If this all happened after you were grown, I’d suggest you stay far away from a man with no class like that,” Ruth said, thinking it over for a moment.
“Well, I was 10 at the time, and he was 9, I think.” Petunia toyed with the ends of Ruth’s hair.
“A noona relationship?” “What noona relationship?
At minimum, the age gap has to be several years — like in those Yvonne Cote romance novels — before it counts as that!” Petunia shot back.
“Wait, since when did you start liking romance novels like Yvonne Cote does?” “Ha, what can I say, Yvonne Cote has great taste — the novels she recommends always stick with you,” Ruth said with a silly grin, then quickly reined it in.
“Ah, I’ve been so absorbed in novels lately, I haven’t met any new boys.” “Hmph.” “Anyway, keep telling me about you two, what happened after that that made you so hung up on him?” “He and Lily were studying abroad the whole time.
I ran into him again last month at Lily’s wedding.” Petunia downed another cocktail.
“When I got lost, I ran into a creep, and he stepped in and saved me.” “Wow, a knight-in-shining-armor moment.
No wonder you keep thinking about him.” Ruth pictured the scene, adding a soft-focus filter to it in her mind.
It must have been beautiful.
“But, but after he saved me, he still couldn’t resist mocking me!
How could I possibly be interested in someone like that?” Petunia protested.
“Maybe you have a mild masochistic streak,” Ruth said, pushing up glasses that didn’t exist, feigning deep seriousness.
“Ha?!” “That sort of preference is quite dangerous, you know.
Unless you have a very resilient heart, you’ll get hurt easily down the road.” “I do not have that streak!” Petunia insisted she had no such strange tendency.
“There must be something wrong with my body, that’s the only explanation!” “Lately, my cravings for that…
that sort of thing have been stronger than usual.” The alcohol had worn down a small part of Petunia’s sense of shame.
“And he’s been the only man who’s had any close physical contact with me during this time.
It must be those two reasons together, that’s why I’m like this!” “That is possible,” Ruth said, uncertain of the exact cause, being constantly surrounded by men herself.
“Don’t overthink it.
Drink up.
Everything has a way of working itself out.” ————————————- August 1980, Sunlight filtered down through the dappled shadows of the trees, falling across the front of the Evans household.
That warm afternoon, the family had gathered around the living room table when, without warning, a letter from far away broke the quiet.
The handwriting on the envelope was instantly familiar, and a wave of delight swept through them all, it was a letter from Lily!
As the envelope was gently torn open, a photograph slipped out and lay still on the table.
Every pair of eyes turned to it at once.
In the photograph, Lily was cradling an infant, the tiny creature’s face all scrunched and wrinkled, as if it had only just arrived from another world.
Lily’s smile radiated with the light of a mother’s love, and her eyes were full of hope and joy for the future.
The small new life lay in her warm embrace, sleeping quietly, as if deep in a sweet dream.
Mrs.
Evans warmly attended to the Owl that had delivered the letter, offering it food and fresh water, while Mr.
Evans readied his pen and paper, preparing to put all his longing and concern into words.
Petunia stood nearby, helping to sort out the gifts they had prepared for Lily.
Once the matters for the younger daughter were seen to, Mrs.
Evans turned her gaze toward the elder.
“Petunia, you really need to get a move on.
Truly, find a suitable man and marry him.
That’s what matters most right now!” Mrs.
Evans said, the same old refrain sounding in Petunia’s ears once again.
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