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Hecate looked out into the icy November morning, her hands gripping tightly on the windowsill, her breath steaming up the glass before her as she let out a painful sigh. She thought about Pippa and how regretfully dismissive she had been with her recently. She never knew how to feel on this day. She’d had nearly the last 40 years to know how she should expect to feel. And as the years went on it definitely got easier, but still, she never really figured out the best way to handle it. Never knew how to make the bitterness go away, how to stop feeling as helpless as she did all those years ago. She held back the tears stinging at her eyes. On with the day, she supposed.
At least it did fall on a weekday this year. At least she could keep busy during the day and only allow her feelings to truly take over later that evening. At least she currently had a distraction, despite the anxiety bubbling in her stomach. She bit her lip, let out another heavy sigh and composed herself for her first class of the day.
Everything was going fine. The girls all got on with their work with no fuss and only a few minor explosions occurred when the first years were instructed to brew an antidote for hiccups. She was pleased at break time when Ada approached her with some tea and began waffling on about a new book she’d read that she thought Hecate might rather enjoy. And Hecate agreed, it did sound like the kind of thing she’d find enjoyable. Yes, everything was fine.
Everything was still fine during her last class of the day. Even when Mildred Hubble had the nerve to ask if she was alright. She wasn’t angry at the question, or at Mildred for asking it, she was furious with herself, however, for giving the impression that she was in fact not alright. But still, she decided to let herself off and forget about it. Just this once.
When her final lesson came to an end, she dismissed her class and simply materialised into her study. She sat at her desk for a short while, contemplating the next few hours of her day, trying to tell herself not to get so worked up. That everything was fine. That she’d find the right words when the time came. She tried to push the pain down further inside of her for a moment. Then she felt bad about not wanting to feel the pain. For not wanting to remember any of it at all. She shouldn’t want it to be easy. She shouldn’t want to forget. And she hated herself for allowing her memories to be so- so bitter and tortured and agonising.
She squeezed her eyes shut, scrunched her face together, until she could start to feel a headache coming on. Relaxing her muscles, she calmly rose from her seat and tentatively wrapped her cloak around herself. One more deep exhale and she was stood outside the building, mounting her broomstick, a neatly prepared basket tied to the end.
The flight was a peaceful one. The black winter sky above her, the moon and the brightest constellations lighting her way. But it was all too soon that everything around her began to feel so familiar and her stomach suddenly felt terribly heavy. The fir trees, all topped with crystals of snow. The houses, small and glowing from the roaring fires undoubtedly lit inside of them. The church, which stood tall and traditional and extremely beautiful, especially when lightly dusted with pure white. She stopped herself from looking any further. Didn’t have the mental energy to even lay her eyes on the place she once called home.
She landed softly at the church’s entrance, bowing her head before entering the grounds. Carefully, she made her way down the icy path, which appeared to sparkle when the moonlight hit. She almost allowed herself a smile at the beauty of the place surrounding her. She almost let herself remember that there was once a time when she was happy here. But that was much too long ago.
It was only when she placed her broom down behind her, made her way over to a small gravestone, slightly green with moss and slightly crooked with age, that she allowed her tears to finally fall. She dropped to her knees, allowing the frost on the grass underneath her to prick at her fingers. Her cries turning into sobs. Her breath huffing out in front of her like smoke.
She kneeled there for a while, wiping her tears until her blurred vision returned to normal. Continuing to sniffle, she reached behind her and from the basket on her broom she retrieved a bright bunch of lilies, perky and nearly as white as the snow, bound together with a deep purple ribbon.
“Happy Birthday, Mum.” It came out as a whisper. It was all she could manage before sucking in her lips and trying not to cry more. She placed the lilies down before her mother’s stone and sat with her for a while. Her mind swimming with the pain of the past, her anxiety rising inside of her as she thought about what she should say. Wanting so badly to finally confront her wounded memories.
After a while, her stomach settled, she began to feel surprisingly calm. And although she planned to confront at least some of the past tonight, in the hopes of even a hint of resolution, she found herself needing to talk about something else first. She needed to talk about the reason she finally felt ready to talk about any of it in the first place.
“I’m sorry I’m still not as strong as you wanted me to be.” She began, feeling a strange sense of relief at the words spilling from her mouth. “I know you taught me to be hard hearted and I know you wanted me to be brave. And I know it was all because you wanted to protect me.” She paused and adjusted the positioning of the lilies, trying to ignore the stinging at her eyes.
“I still don’t know who it is that you want me to become.” She felt a tremble in her lips, the thought that her mother might feel disrespected breaking her heart. But she pushed herself to keep talking.
“But I think I’m realising, and I hope you’ll forgive me for it, who I want me to become.” She closed her eyes for a short time, her hands resting gently on her knees as she thought about the past few months. Everything she’d learned. Everything she’d felt. New feelings that were somehow familiar. Good feelings.
“Pippa and I are talking to each other again.” She let out a hint of an almost ironic laugh. “I don’t know how you’ll feel about that, I know you were always wary of her very nature. To love so easily and freely. But I do expect you’ll be pleased to know that you’ll never have to endure me sitting here again going on about how I wish I’d done things differently and that parting from her was the biggest mistake I’d ever made.” She said, catching her breath, remembering how many times she’d allowed herself to be so selfish by sitting here over the years, mainly talking and, dare she even think it, spouting about Pippa, without even ever truly explaining what it was that went so wrong. Partly because she felt ashamed to admit it out loud. Mainly because she wasn’t ready to admit it to herself at all.
“I hope you’ll also be pleased to know how fond I am of her, even still. Even more-so, if at all possible. She is the only person who seems to make things make sense and I don’t know how I’ve gone so long without her.” She paused again, thinking of the truth in her words. “I suppose I’m trying to tell you, and again, please forgive me, that I am happy.” She swallowed the last drop of fear swirling around her mouth, “And that I am in love.” Finally, Hecate allowed herself to smile, feeling like, somehow, something had been resolved after all. Feeling content with her words, she thought maybe she needn’t say much more.
She rose to her feet, the winter breeze tickling the few stray hairs that fell around her neck. “I’m sorry it’s taken me this long to feel able to open up to you properly. I know there’s still much we have left to discuss, things that I have been so unwilling to discuss, previously. But I promise to return soon.” She turned and summoned her broom. “Goodnight, Mum.”
Lifting from the ground with ease, her stomach no longer heavy, instead it was filled with such warmth and she couldn’t help but weep. Happy tears for the first time that day.
She had no intentions of flying to Pentangle’s Academy that night, but it wasn’t long before she’d dismounted her broom at the school’s entrance and within seconds Pippa had appeared in front of her, smiling warmly.
“Darling, are you alright?” Worry and sympathy filled her voice and Hecate knew Pippa had remembered what date it was. Even after all these years.
Hecate nodded. “I’m sorry I’ve been so distant.” She whispered, afraid that her tears would creep up on her again.
“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.” Pippa gently wrapped her arms around her, as they dissolved into the air, arriving in Pippa’s chambers. Hecate allowed herself to melt into Pippa for a few moments, enjoying the feel of her beneath her hands.
They then sat down on the deep, ridiculously pink sofa and as Pippa summoned some tea for them both, she noticed Hecate’s unusually bright smile. She didn’t want to be the one to break the silence. Instead she simply cherished the moment.
“I told my mother that I’m in love with you today.” Hecate finally spoke, blushing at the way her own smile grew wider and the hint of excitement she heard in her voice.
“Oh? And what does she think about that?” Pippa asked, her heart bursting in her chest at Hecate’s words.
“Well, you know my mum. She’s not one for letting her feelings show.” Hecate replied, raising her eyebrows slightly.
“Yes. I do remember that quality about her.” Pippa smiled.
“But I told her that it’s what I want and that I am happy.” She reached across to place a gentle hand on Pippa’s arm. “And I have missed you and would very much like to kiss you.”
A smirk formed on Pippa’s lips as she edged across the sofa. “Did you tell your mother that last bit?”
“Absolutely not.” Hecate said, looking up into Pippa’s eyes then down at her lips, before closing the distance between them.