Work Text:
Oh, Mother
Lucas' hand was a blanket to her cold and shaking one. She had not been expecting to so poorly handle the view of an open casket. Everything around her was familiar, familial, yet foreign.
Everyday life at Hollingsworth Manor had taken her too far away from this.
She should have come home more, called more.
Hell, she should have fought harder to have Sophia relocate with her.
Everything in her peripheral was blurring.
Ma.
“Oh, sweetheart,” Blanche cooed as she took up the space beside Dorothy opposite to her uncle. “It's all right. Don't be ashamed to let it out. God knows I've been cryin' non stop since I woke up.”
“What're we gonna do without her?” Rose's expression was solemn as they sat and she sidled up close to the others in the pew.
“I don't know,” Dorothy choked. “Part of me just always felt like she would be here. She fought through so much to be here with me, for me — that I just kept quashing thoughts of the inevitable.”
...Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for You are with me. Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me...
~*~
“I can't stop thinking about how she looked in that casket. Our last moments together the last time I visited. What a contrast the two memories are as they play on a loop in my head.”
“She wouldn't want you to remember her the way we all saw her today.” Blanche was stretched out on a lounge chaise, clasping Dorothy's hand comfortingly as she sat perched on its edge. Miami's evening sky seemed as though she too wished to weep to fill the holes such beloved matriarch had left behind, her overflowing clouds against an angry backdrop of charcoal the picture of solidarity.
“I feel so guilty for not knowing the last time would be the last time. Not saying a proper goodbye.”
“How could you have realized, Dorothy?” Blue eyes gazed into brown, softening against the agony they found. One feminine hand clutched the other more tightly as fingers entwined themselves. “She went in her sleep. Didn't suffer. She would have wanted it that way.”
“I know,” the elder woman sniffed, disentangled their hands and wiped against ever leaking eyes. “I still feel like an orphan. Facts don't make any of this easier.”
“I can't take your pain away,” Blanche told her softly, heartbroken. “But if there's anything I can do to ease it, even for a second, you name it and I'm on it.”
“I'm supposed to go back next week. I don't want to impose, but even the thought of Hollingsworth Manor feels too big in this moment. Hollow, even with Lucas there, dearly as I love him.
“He said he'd go back unless I needed him. I told him I thought it would help to stay on with my sisters a little longer.... if they'd have me?”
“Oh honey of course we will! You should know you're never an imposition! Not ever.” Blanche stood and hugged her tightly. “Anything you need, say the word.”
“Thanks Blanche,” Dorothy managed a watery smile as she pulled back from their embrace. “You're a good friend.”
“Oh, Dorothy, we're not just friends.” She returned the smile, eyes crinkling as it reached toward them. “We're sisters.”
Thunder rolled long and loud in the distance.
“Sisters who should probably hurry in before we get drenched!”
Dorothy chuckled lightly in spite of herself. “You go ahead, honey. I've something I need to do.”
“What's that?” Blanche cocked a brow.
“I know it's late, but stillness is too much for me right now. I know I won't sleep. I'll be back before long.”
~*~
... She's your mother, you love her
there won't be another
place like her again that you call home
she stands here to help you
there's nothing she won't do
as long as she's alive
you're not alone
the secrets in your heart she's always known...
Thoughts in her head were as loud as the thunder, the rain as plentiful and constant as the tears that had recommenced. Wipers worked overtime to clear the latter and she feared momentarily that the vehicle under her normally expert control would veer off into a ditch.
“I'm an orphan,” she stated aloud to the otherwise empty vehicle as she pulled over to the shoulder of the road. “I – Dorothy Zbornak – do not have any parents. I don't have my mother.”
...She's a beacon, a harbour
a lighthouse, her armour
a promise and a blanket when it's cold
you'll understand it more when you get older
you've got each other
that's your mother...
Do you wanna know why I call you pussycat, Pussycat?
Why, Ma? Because you only gave me yarn for Christmas? Because you fed me once and I hung around? Because you used to put me out at night?
No, because I love Pussycats... and I love you.
... You've got each other, that's your mother....
Memories flooded her psyche as she hastily turned the dial of the radio to a different station and slowly put the car into drive.
Oh, Ma,” Dorothy sighed, looking upward into Miami's sorrowful night. “I love you, too.”
Oh, sweetheart, don't be ashamed to let it out.
On the echoing advice of a sister bonded by things far stronger than bloodline, she wept in tandem with the city.