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“Eda, it’s just a fucking scratch, okay?” Luz exclaims out of frustration, throwing her hands up in the air. “Will you stop running around like I’m dying?”
“You could be, Luz—how do you know that the wound isn’t infected, huh? Why didn’t you just tell me?” Eda asks, more anger in her voice than she intended it to be.
Luz frowns, clearly taken aback by her tone, but quickly came up with a reply. “I cleaned it up on my own yesterday.”
“I’m a better healer than you. I know better than you—“
“Oh my god, Eda, really?”
“Yes, really! Why would you try to hide this? What hurt would it do to you if you would just come to me every time you’re injured, or sick, or...” Eda’s voice falters. She shook her head and turns away from the girl, returning back to gathering medical supplies into the basin in her arm.
“Wh—I just...” Luz scoffs at how ridiculous the whole situation is, “I don’t need you to hover around me all the time, mom. I’m not a baby—“
“You’re my baby!” Eda almost yells it. The house fell silent while Luz sat there on the couch with wide eyes, staring, surprised. “You’re my baby, Luz, and I just—you not telling me what’s going on, if you’re hurt, or sick, or sad —I’m scared that I’d lose you like I’ve lost everyone else in my life. I’m scared that I’m going to lose you knowing that I could’ve done something about it. So please,” the woman took a shaky breath, holding her forehead in her hand, “Just talk to me. Please.”
Luz doesn’t look at her for a while.
She could feel Eda moving to sit beside her, brushing cotton over her wounded leg, wincing when she feels the alcohol sting into her skin. “Ow, ow—“
“I’m being as gentle as I can, okay?” Eda says patiently, continuing to brush the cotton on her, stinging and biting and—
“Eda, stop—just stop, stop, okay—” she doesn’t know why she’s suddenly sobbing, but she is. Maybe it’s the pain, maybe it’s the lump in her chest she’s been trying to constantly ignore, but she’s sobbing like she was a soda can being shaken up for so long that's finally cracked open, and—
Eda held her, patient and still, running her hand soothingly along her shoulder. She let's her sob for a while.
Luz does.
"Do you want to tell me why you're crying?" Eda asks, her voice so soft it almost broke her all over again.
"Don't know," Luz mutters, "I don't know."
"That's alright."
But she knows, she does know. It's the hole inside her heart that longs for her mother, missing her, not knowing if she was ever going to see her again. It's the aching she feels whenever Eda calls her "kid", or "love", whenever she held her, hugged her, or showed the slightest form of affection to her.
Eda was so much like her mother. She was so much like her that it hurts. And it hurts, because whenever Luz tries to picture Camila, even when she spends every night looking at her picture from so many years ago before she fell asleep—
It was always Eda that came to her mind.
Stiff gray hair instead of long, dark curls. Brilliant gold eyes instead of warm, brown ones. Goofy, sideways smile with a fang sticking out instead of—
Luz can't even remember anymore.
It hurts so much.
"This is nice," Eda suddenly says, and Luz looks up from her place on the woman's lap (how did she get there?), frowning.
"Huh?"
She chuckles. "I mean, at least you're crying to me. Unbottling all that damn load you're carrying inside. That's... it's good. It's a start, at least."
Luz sniffles. "You're horrible."
"I know." Eda just laughs. "I wish you'd... do this a lot more."
"What, have my snot all over you?"
"No... talk to me. You can use a lot of that."
"Well, we're talking right now, aren't we?"
Eda shook her head. "You and that smart mouth of yours."
Luz smirks. "What can I say? I got it all from you."
"You know what, on second thoughts, maybe you can just stay silent."
They both laugh to their own terrible way of joking while Eda finished the rest of the job, bandaging it to a finish. "Hey, Luz?"
"Yeah?"
"Next time, spare your old woman some slack and tell me that something's wrong, alright?"
This time, Luz really meant what she said.
"Okay, mom."