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Over the horizon a little blue truck pulls up the solitary dirt road. Maybe she had just gotten too used to solitude, but Elmyra hadn’t imagined her life after Midgar any other way. A quiet little cottage to herself. She gets a ride into town every now and again; when she needs it. Of course, anyone would get lonely after several days without seeing people, but her friends from Sector 5 call her weekly, and her daughter, almost daily.
It doesn’t compare, however, to real the thing, now climbing out from under a pile of suitcases as the car has stopped just outside the fence. Once she dusts off her dress, she sprints up cobblestone path and embraces her in a warm hug.
“It’s good to see you!” Aerith nuzzles into Elmyra’s neck, breathing in the faint scent of dirt and coffee grinds.
At least that’s what she would have been doing if Elmyra hadn’t immediately shoved her off. “Don’t you think you should be carrying at least one of those suitcases?”
“No no I got it!” Sure enough, Tifa did have all three, inexplicably balanced on one arm, while the other shouldered two backpacks and a tote.
Aerith rolls her eyes. “See? She’s got it.”
Elmyra reaches for the suitcase on top and at that Aerith springs back into action, urging her not to strain her back. She grabs a suitcase for herself and ushers the two of them inside.
Elmyra refused to sit until all the suitcases were neatly tucked aside, and she begins the coffee machine (pre-loaded with beans for just this occasion). “I know I don’t make it as good as you- “
“-no way!” Tifa cries. “You make delicious coffee, honestly, it reminds me Seventh Heaven.”
Her face pinches at that. “Bitter memories, then.”
Tifa laughs, shakes her head. “Sweet ones. Biggs is the one who taught me how to make it actually. I wasn’t used to the instant stuff.” She holds her hands up abruptly. “Not in a bad way! I just… I had no idea what I was doing. And I didn’t even like it at first but now the taste kind of reminds me of him. Of them.”
Elmyra inspects her for any trace of sorrow, it seems Aerith does as well, but when she gives nothing other than a gentle smile, she lets it drop.
Three fresh cups of coffee in hand and she finally makes her way to the table. Aerith latches onto her mug immediately, claiming her fingers were freezing off. The frost was clinging this year. Admittedly Elmyra herself was sleeping in just a bit longer, for fear of letting the warmth of her comforter escape should she get up.
Tifa reaches over and wraps her hands around Aerith’s, as she warms herself on the drink. “You’d be warmer if you finished your lunch today.”
Aerith pulls her hands away, takes a long sip of the disgusting potion in front of her to avoid now two pairs of scrutinous eyes. “You know I hate service station food.”
“You love service station food!”
“You love service station food!”
Tifa’s face finally cracks a smile, and she and Elmyra share a knowing look.
“It’s not fair with the two of you together, I never win!”
Elmyra ruffles her hair while Tifa leans back, adoring. “I have to win sometimes, Darling, otherwise we’d be 0-1000 in lifetime matches.”
Now Aerith is blushing. “You’ve won a few more than zero.”
“I’m sure,” Elmyra says, adjusting Aerith’s bangs. Though she continues to complain about their “bullying” its obvious Aerith enjoys the attention. Elmyra thinks, as she watches her eyes widen while telling a story, her skin crease as a well-practiced laugh emerges at the funny parts. Not only is she happy, but she’s worn happiness so long it’s become her. Near her eyes, there are new lines. She’s a bit rounder beneath the jaw. The placid little smile she used to wear when peddling flowers back in Midgar rarely makes itself known anymore. In its place is the face of the person Elmyra was first acquainted with all those years back. A girl who laughs hard. Who cries hard. Who can hardly conceal her excitement (or her disdain).
“-okay, enough.” Aerith bats her hands away and its only then Elmyra realizes she’s been fussing with her this whole time.
“We’re just a little tired. The truck had an issue at about mile 51. And I swear I checked everything the night before.”
Aerith waves away Tifa’s concern. “You’re perfect, honey, that stupid truck is just misbehaving because I suggested taking Carl up here instead.”
“You wanted to travel by Chocobo?”
“Well what else do we have them for?” Aerith turns away from Elmyra’s shocked expression to look at Tifa. “We don’t take him out enough, he’s bored in the stable.”
Tifa pouts sympathetically. “I promise we’ll go somewhere with him soon, but we had too many bags, and your mom’s house is so far- “
“-of course you had to come by truck,” Elmyra intervenes. “And I thank whatever deity exists that they sent you to my daughter because if you’d taken up her bright idea, I’m not sure you would have made it in time.”
Tifa shoots her a grateful smile.
“Okay well I’ve had enough of this Aerith-hate-train-”
“-it’s not- “
“-so I’m going to bed.”
She refuses Tifa’s help and drags one of the suitcases upstairs, alone. Shortly after they hear the door close the conversation begins again, this time quieter.
“What did she eat today?”
“A couple hard boiled eggs. A green tea. I made pancakes for breakfast but she refused. And there were all kinds of things at the service station in Junon; hot dogs, beef skewers, croquettes.” Tifa shakes her head. “I bought a couple candies and biscuits to go but she didn’t touch them.”
Elmyra stares at the wooden banister where Aerith had just been. In the silence, they can both hear her moving things around; it sounds like she turns on the shower at some point and for a while it’s the only noise in the entire house.
This won’t do.
Tifa is startled by the sound of Elmyra clapping her hands. “Well. She’s always been stubborn, that girl. Stubbornly optimistic. And unfortunately… stubbornly pessimistic as well, though a much rarer occurrence.”
“Yeah,” Tifa commiserates. Her hands clench into fists and Elmyra reaches for them before she can drag them into her lap. With Tifa’s gaze now on her, she smiles, pushes a lock of hair behind her ear. “Don’t you worry, sweetheart. She’ll come around. She always does for you-” at this, Tifa blushes, “-and I’m here to help now too.”
“I just…” her shoulders sink, “I don’t want her to be upset about this. It’s a good thing, even if it’s a little sad.” She opens her hands, grabs onto Elmyra’s with that firm grip she always has, “I don’t want to invalidate her feelings, but I just want her to be happy. Even if she can’t be.” Tears well up in her eyes, and she takes a steadying breath before her next few words. “I hate that she’s not happy, because I am.”
Aerith wakes up uncomfortably warm and sweaty. She stretches her arms, and tries to sit up to shake off the heat; realizes Tifa is wrapped tightly around her. She’s in the sweater Aerith forced her to bring -you’re not young enough to be going out in subzero temperatures with a crop-top anymore- and she realizes, after kicking around a bit, they’re both in thick wooly socks. Tifa’s hair is plastered to her face. She reaches out to brush to some of it away.
“Tifa, honey. Wake up.”
Aerith just manages to turn around in her arms, but Tifa wriggles closer, locks them in even tighter together. She’s hot and now Tifa is literally breathing down her neck but she laughs, despite herself. Rests her lips against Tifa’s forehead. It’s still sweaty and Aerith is still hot but she decides to marinate in this suffocating warmth a moment longer.
Once she’s had enough, she begins kicking.
“Ow. Ow. Aerith? What the hell.” Tifa’s diagonal, hips near hanging off the bed as Aerith continues to push her out of the sauna they’ve created.
“It’s too hot babe you need to take off your socks or something.”
“You could have just told me that,” she grumbles. Does what Aerith says, anyways. For a second she sits at the edge of the bed, bare feet soaking in the coolness of the floorboards.
Aerith can’t tell what she’s looking at with her back turned to her and Tifa takes longer than expected to get back into bed. She waits -however- for Tifa to make that decision herself, picking at the bedsheets in suspense. Tifa rolls her shoulders, rubs one eye with her hand and stretches up onto her feet. She addresses Aerith again after stretching out all of her fingers, popping and loosening her joints as wakefulness enters her body.
“I’m going to use the bathroom first, okay?”
Aerith scoffs. “We don’t have to take turns you know.”
Tifa grins, braces herself against the mattress on two arms and crowds Aerith’s space. “I know that, silly, but I have a surprise for you.” She puckers her lips, and Aerith gives her an answering kiss in response. Tifa pulls away humming, eyes fluttering closed for just a moment before she stands back up again.
“I promise I won’t take long,” and then she’s gone.
Aerith tugs longingly at Tifa’s pillowcase. It’s too early -she can tell by the tepid sunlight filtering through the curtains. In her ideal world, they slept in till noon. Maybe afternoon. Elmyra wouldn’t bother them about breakfast and nobody would have to say anything at all. Easy silence. Aerith has plenty of it now with Tifa having her solo bathroom time, but it doesn’t feel right, so she flops over onto her back, annoyed.
Pondering how to right this departure from fantasy Aerith nearly lulls herself back to sleep but is interrupted by the bathroom door slamming open.
“Okay,” Tifa begins hurriedly, “I think this will go well with that lilac dress you packed in the blue suitcase but also you can totally wear whatever you want, I just thought, I don’t wear this enough, and you like it so- “
Aerith sits up. Her eyes take a second to re-focus, and she’s dying to see whatever Tifa’s been hiding from her and she has a good idea; her frame haloed in goldenrod yellow. The edges sharpen up, to reveal the shape of a dress; a simple yellow sundress Tifa had bought after much cajoling from Aerith. “It’s your color,” she’d insisted, though she says that about all colors. But she had a vision, you see, of Tifa in the light of the sun, her beautiful black hair contrasting with all that yellow, and maybe carrying a picnic basket- they should have a picnic today.
Her legs shake a little as she stands. “You look beautiful.”
Tifa smiles, genuine. “I thought I’d wear something special for today.”
“It’s not the dress, it’s just, you.” Aerith presses her lips together, eyes raking over Tifa’s frame. “And maybe a little bit the dress.”
“I did buy it because of you.”
Aerith tugs at the skirt, slightly flared, and revealing just a bit of ankle. “You like it though, right?”
“Of course.”
She makes eye contact. “You’re being honest with me?”
“Aerith, I wouldn’t have bought it if I didn’t. Besides. I like dresses.”
“It’s a little different from your usual style.”
Tifa shrugs, and pulls Aerith into her arms. “To be honest I’m still figuring out what that is. But,” she kisses her, “I have my whole life to do that.”
She releases Tifa’s dress, lest she damage the perfect shape of it by the sudden urge she has to dig her nails into the fabric. Instead, she folds them into the hem of her sweatshirt.
“Aerith.”
The sun must have risen quite a bit since she last checked. The room feels too warm to still be wearing fuzzy socks.
“Do you want to get dressed now?” Tifa rearranges Aerith’s fringe, and reveals her forehead, where she plants a firm kiss. “If you want to, me and Elmyra were thinking about having a picnic today.”
“Okay,” she murmurs.
Tifa’s hands sweep over her jaw and find purchase behind her neck, pulling her in for a proper kiss. “It’s whatever you want today love.” Then she smirks, gives a sudden tug to one of Aerith’s earlobes, who yelps in response. “I mean, it’s whatever you want everyday,” Tifa corrects, “but today especially.”
Aerith rolls her eyes, and only when she glances at Tifa’s little grin does she realize she’d been staring somewhere else the whole time. “You’re so annoying,” she says, hanging on firmly to her waist, “it’s actually whatever you want, you just don’t realize when you’re getting it. Just because I’m more clever…” she teases, but Tifa doesn’t take the bait. She slides her hands over Aerith’s arms.
“You’re the cleverest. Prettiest. Cutest girl in the whole world.” At Aerith’s rising blush she grins harder. “I never stood a chance.”
“What’s gotten into you,” she mumbles, though they both know exactly what. She kisses her to shut her up for a moment, and forgets everything that was chasing her in her dreams when Tifa’s tongue slips into her mouth, scratches her nails at the base of Aerith’s neck.
She doesn’t stay there for long, however, cutting them off abruptly so Aerith can go get changed.
“Are you sure?” She sucks in a heaving breath, tries to regain some composure. “I think I need to get a closer look at that dress. Make sure it fits you right.”
Tifa shakes her head, still smiling, and steps a safe distance away from her horny wife. “You’ll get to complete your analysis later. After our picnic.”
“But- “
“-anticipation is the best part, remember? You taught me that.”
A strangled noise escapes her throat. “Did I now?”
Tifa leaves her with only an echo of laughter. She gathers up her makeup bag and hairbrush to finish getting ready downstairs. The silence bothers Aerith so despite feeling somewhat hypnotized a moment ago, she shakes herself out of her stupor, and decides to just play along. A picnic with Tifa is almost as good as an afternoon in bed with her. And besides, her back was hurting a little. The absence of conversation had made the nagging voice in her head return tenfold.
She shut it out with the sound of running water. The feeling of it, cold, and refreshing purifying her skin. That small spot of acne she always used to have over her cheek was gone now. It had gone away a few years ago and never returned. There were new things to look at in its place; the slightest sag in her eyelids, a gray hair she found six months ago that now inspired routine inspection. Aerith had never been that self-conscious before but it was odd to see these changes on herself. She reassured Tifa constantly that the changes in her appearance only made her more beautiful, more complete, with age. They were like little gifts to Aerith, new little features to discover and to love. But the inverse was complicated.
Sighing, as she sets down the tweezer, she decides it’s enough reflection for the day. She digs around for that lilac dress. Tifa is going to love her in this, she thinks, tying the hanging ribbons of satin around her waist. She shakes out the layers of chiffon and satin. Tests her mobility. It’s flexible.
Makes descending the staircase a little easier as she finally greets the rest of the living. Tifa’s jaw hangs open around a piece of toast, and a genuine smile tugs at Aerith’s lips.
Elmyra intercepts her before she can do any further damage to Tifa’s brain. “You look beautiful sweetheart.” Hands her a thermos full of hibiscus tea and pushes her into a chair. The plate in front of her is littered with all her favorites. Double fried bacon. Baloney. Hard scrambled eggs. A couple slices of a hard Irish cheese and a large slab of sourdough bread.
Her stomach speaks for her mouth, much to Elmyra’s content. With all the strength she can muster she pushes Aerith in along with her chair, even goes as far as to place her fork and knife in her hands. Then she draws Aerith into one-armed hug and kisses the top of her head.
“Happy Birthday Aerith.”
A short drive away from Elmyra’s cottage is a public park. The neighboring cottages all congregate there for picnics and playdates with their children. There is a public water supply connected to several stone water fountains, and sprinklers that keep the grass healthy during the dry season. Aerith notices the flowers blooming in the trees. They’re pink and white and beautiful. She’s only lived through so many springtimes in her life -that she could observe. It takes her breath away every time.
They set up their blanket beneath a large oak tree. Lucky to have secured the spot, Tifa did make sure the Gainsboroughs were out of the house by 10 for that exact purpose. In fact, she had many things planned. Including the collection of sweets inside the picnic basket; sweets impossible to find on this side of the continent. Clearly, she had been hoarding for a while.
Aerith started sucking on a raspberry hard candy, ignored the scrutinizing look from Elmyra while she and Tifa unpacked their actual meal; an assortment of sandwiches and cubed fruit.
It was too soon to eat after that big breakfast so she goes for a walk. The park starts to fill out with couples and families and joggers and maintenance workers dusting the sidewalks. She observes them all with the same potent curiosity she observed the grasslands when she’d first seen it. Her friends had been scared still; anxious about the task ahead, mourning their recent failure. But Aerith couldn’t help herself. Here was the point of it all: the sun, the imposing sky. Here was grass, and flowers, and trees, and life.
She remembers riding her first Chocobo. Seeing her first swamp. Her first desert. Her first duck. Her first scorpion (it had also been Yuffie’s first scorpion. And everyone’s first insect-related violence).
As she’s pondering these things she nearly gets hit in the face by a ball, twists just in time to avoid it.
“Sorry! Sorry.” A boy, or a young man, -he seemed both- approached her. He was waving at her, still trying to apologize, while catching his breath. Collected the ball with his feet.
“My brother kicked it too hard.” He points over his shoulder to a little kid, short black hair, and wide eyes trembling.
“It’s okay,” she says.
He makes to leave but the little brother catches up with him, tugs meaningfully at his hand.
“Okay, sorry again, bye.” He’s held back by his brother.
“What’s your name?”
Aerith giggles. The little boy looks even littler up close.
“I’m Aerith. And you are?”
“I’m Tomas.” He gestures to his right, “This is Emmanuel.”
She regards the taller boy. “Nice to meet you both.”
Emmanuel ducks his head away, but she can see the tips of his ears turn red.
There’s a moment of silence but the two brothers don’t make to leave yet, so Aerith waits. Over their heads she looks for her tree, and when she finds it, can see that her mother has fallen asleep, and Tifa is reading something. A smile graces her automatically.
“Are you single?”
“Tomas!”
“What?”
Aerith laughs helplessly. Emmanuel has turned a deeper red, but Tomas is looking up at her expectantly.
“Why do you ask?”
He tugs on his brother’s hand. “My brother needs a wife.”
“That’s enough,” Emmanuel hisses.
“But isn’t she pretty?”
He looks between them now, torn. It’s obvious that he does think she’s pretty, but doesn’t want to admit it. Aerith figures she’ll spare him the embarrassment.
“I’m actually married already.”
“Oh.” Tomas’s face falls, and Emmanuel tries not to look as disappointed as his brother. But he recovers quickly.
“We’re sorry to have bothered you. Thanks for putting up with him,” he forces a laugh, tries to finally drag his brother away but this time Aerith stops them.
“May I ask why you’re looking? I mean, I totally support the pursuit of true love but…” she eyes him up and down, “you seem pretty young.”
She expects him to blush again, but he sighs instead. Drops his brother’s hand so he can squeeze his fingers into fists.
“I’m 18.”
“Oh. Yeah. Then I’m definitely too old for you.”
“How old are you?” He freezes. “I mean- not that I- I’m sorry- “
She shakes her head. Gives him an easy smile. “I’m 30.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
She giggles, ruffles his hair a bit. “You have a lot of time to find a wife. Don’t give up hope!”
“I’m not really looking, I swear, it’s just this one- “
He gestures at Tomas who scowls at him. “My brother doesn’t talk to girls so I have to do it for him.”
“Is that so?”
Emmanuel shakes his head. “He’s annoying but he means well.” Laughing, he palms his brother’s face, gets into a mini arm wrestle with him as Tomas tries to exact revenge with his considerably smaller hands. While he’s distracted by this Emmanuel says, in more of a whisper, “since our mom died, I’ve been taking care of him.” He sighs again, but maintains his strained smile. “He’s just getting to an age where he feels kind of bad about it.”
Aerith sucks in a sharp breath. “How did she die?”
“Dunno exactly. I mean, I don’t remember. It was a long time ago. She was sick.” His eyes become unfocused, as he tries to recall the details, or maybe, tries not to.
Aerith herself needs a moment to collect herself. She stares over his shoulder again, at Elmyra, at Tifa.
“Well tell your brother not to worry.” She smiles again, this time sincere. Places a hand on his shoulder. “There is so much more love out in this world. And you find it in the most unexpected places.” She inhales, exhales heavily, but presses on. “And you have so much life left to discover it. To savor it.” I made sure, she wants to say, but it does seem a tad inappropriate to bring up the once impending doom of the planet. Now peaceful. Now forever.
Emmanuel smiles too, also sincere, and has stopped wrestling his brother.
“Thanks Miss Aerith.”
“Manny, you can’t call girls ‘Miss’ you have to call them by their names.”
“Thank you -err- Aerith.” Not wanting to stay another awkward second Emmanuel yanks his brother by his collar and they run off to continue their game.
Aerith watches them play. She was about 18 when she first fell in love. Hopefully it wouldn’t be long for Emmanuel. Her eyes drift back towards Tifa. Elmyra. She had been married years before she found Aerith. Now, after all these years, Aerith liked to joke she was “unplanned” and Elmyra would roll her eyes and play along. “Yup,” she would say, “I remember your big head nearly tore me apart. I nearly tore Gabriel’s hand off during labor.”
The memory -now- makes Aerith’s heart twinge. She starts to walk back, thinks about the variety of sandwiches they packed, all the specific ingredients and combinations, pesto, chicken, olive oil, garden tomatoes. The closer she gets to their spot, the hungrier she gets, and consequently- more annoyed.
She huffs as she settles down next to Tifa. When Tifa doesn’t immediately look up Aerith nudges her with her shoe.
Tifa rolls over, looking surprise and only mildly irked. “Cat got your tongue?”
Aerith doesn’t dignify that with an answer. She merely plops down beside her, huffing and trying very hard not to look at the picnic basket. Despite how few clues she gave to work with, Tifa somehow reads her mind, starts pulling out their lunches. She wakes Elmyra with a gentle shake, hands her the only sandwich without spicy mustard and onions, and begins unwrapping Aerith’s sandwich next. When she places it in her hands she leans in and presses a kiss to the corner of her mouth.
Aerith’s lips purse. She doesn’t move other than that. Elmyra begins a conversation with Tifa and since it’s apparent they are both fine with ignoring her she ignores them right back.
So lost in her own world Aerith doesn’t notice the sandwich being pried from her hands, mostly uneaten. She doesn’t notice the sun setting, or Tifa unwrapping a single raspberry hard candy and placing it in each of their palms.
“These always taste better outside,” she says, and sucks hers into her mouth.
Elmyra hums thoughtfully. “I prefer the caramel ones. They used to come in gold wrappers. Only ever got them at my grandmother’s house.”
“I know those!” Tifa giggles, “and I literally only saw them in the mayor’s house. It’s like an old people candy for sure.”
“I suppose I need to contact their supplier then. Assume my age-given right.” They’re both laughing and its so genuine Aerith can’t really be angry at them so she gets angry at herself instead. They’re so comfortably joyful, even when Aerith is being a total sourpuss. She’s the kind of person she’d usually make fun of. This was like… her whole shtick with Cloud, poking fun at him when he got too serious. But then again, Cloud was never serious about being serious, only confused. Aerith doesn’t have an excuse right now. She’s just being sour and no number of hard candies can fix it.
The ride home is quiet, but neither Tifa nor Elmyra seem put off by it, or Aerith’s persisting bad mood. Elmyra chivalrously insists on sitting in the back seat so that Tifa can attempt to have her own private conversation with Aerith in the front. Aerith is too tired of resisting so she lets Tifa speak to her, try to soothe her, a single hand on the wheel and the other cradling Aerith’s left hand, thumb grazing over her knuckles. She assures her the afternoon was splendid, and that nobody minds if she’s a little cranky today, and that she looks so so beautiful in her lavender dress.
She lowers her voice to something below a whisper, even though its so silent you could hear a pin drop, “I can’t wait to take it off you tonight.” Aerith glances over at her then, sees the tendon on her neck is visible so she knows she’s straining against the impulse to look back, and see if Elmyra heard her. Aerith knows she absolutely did, because Elmyra -annoyingly- hears everything, but she’s being gracious enough to pretend she didn’t. That -at least- pulls a laugh out of Aerith.
She drags their interlocked hands up to her mouth. Still looking over at Tifa, she sees her suck in a sharp breath, as Aerith ever so gently places a kiss over one knuckle, and then another, and then another, not being shy of slipping her tongue out a little. In the fading light of the day she can see the skin of Tifa’s hand glint as she pulls it back, shaky, and pretending not to be. This brings a fire to Aerith’s belly. It briefly replaces all the other feelings she had swirling in there this morning. She tends to it. Imagines all the way she could make Tifa come undone, without even fully disrobing either of them.
As they walk inside, she turns the image over in her mind, turns Tifa over; yeah, she’d like her like that tonight. She starts making for the staircase subconsciously and is genuinely surprised when Tifa yanks her back.
When they make eye contact, Aerith’s eyes are wild and Tifa’s are insistent. “The cake.”
The lights all come on except the one over the kitchen table. Elmyra pulls a beautifully adorned lemon cake out onto the table. It’s simple, but it has fat buttercream lemons around the edges, and “Happy Birthday Aerith” written in yellow cursive on top. Her hands begin to shake as Tifa pushes candles into the frosting, and starts lighting them.
Then she starts singing, Elmyra joining in a beat late, and wildly out of tune, and Aerith can’t take it. This is all just so so wrong and she feels hot in the bad way, and a little like she might throw up, and also have a heart attack. Her hand goes up to clutch at her chest, as her heartbeat makes itself known -louder and louder until she can almost see it. She shoves herself away -against what, she’s not sure. She hears the table rattle, some fussing as the other two women make sure the cake doesn’t fall or the candles or whatever. Aerith can’t quite see. She hears someone call her name but she can’t be here right now so she runs.
The door slams open behind her. She has no idea where she runs but runs and she doesn’t really see anything until she gets there. Little spots of light, like fireflies blink into her vision. They all blend together into streams of smoke, the air feels wet but cool, and she can breathe again. She inhales deeply, and exhales to the count of ten.
She does this a few times until all the shapes become textured, and jagged. She sees the crystals in front of her; the heart of a lifespring and understands that she was brought her. The thought almost makes her break down again.
“This isn’t fair,” she whines. She falls to her knees and digs her fingers into the soil beneath her. “This isn’t fair!” She’s yelling, but nobody can hear her, because nobody is actually around. Still, she shudders when she feels a hand on her shoulder. Can’t help the way she leans into it, reaching up to touch it with her own hand.
“You’re not real,” she whispers.
“You and I both know that I am.”
“But you’re not!” Aerith won’t look at her, can’t look at her, because that would be undoing years of progress. Years of pretending not to feel her absence. Years of feeling everything but missing her so desperately it still kept her up at night.
“Aerith. Would you please look at me?” Her tone is sweet, and effulgent, and real. Aerith can almost feel it like a breeze against her ear. “A mother only gets to celebrate so many birthdays with their child.”
“Where were you for the other 23 then?” It’s bitter, and angry, Aerith knows that.
“I wanted to be there, I-“
“-you’re not real. You’re not here like I want you to be so just… just… go away.” Her voice cracks on the last word, and she’s full on sobbing now. She buries her face in her arms and cries but that presence won’t leave. It only becomes stronger.
“Oh honey.” She hugs her, Aerith can feel her arms wrap around her, corporeal form notwithstanding. It’s firm, and warm, and she couldn’t help leaning into it if she tried. “I want to be with you. I always want to be with you.”
“But you left!” Aerith wails. She turns around now and fully falls into her mother’s embrace.
“I never wanted to leave.”
“You made me do it all without you. Living without you. How could you?!”
“How could I not?” Ifalna smiles, despite herself, and Aerith looks up at her for the first time. She looks just like Aerith remembers, smooth skin, lines only just beginning to mar the edges of her smile. Perfect. “How could I not,” she says again. “All I wanted was for you to live. And you did! And I’m so very proud of you.”
Aerith hiccups as her sobs peter out. “I know I shouldn’t,” she wipes her eyes, “but I feel so guilty.”
“Oh my darling. My sweet sweet girl.” Ifalna cries too. “I wanted to live too. I wanted to live so badly. I made so many stupid mistakes chasing that dream, but you were my greatest accomplishment.”
At that, Aerith begins to cry again. “But there could have been so much more for you!”
“Maybe,” Ifalna chuckles. Her fingertips swipe at Aerith’s elbows, then up her arms to cup her face. “But how can I measure what could have been against what was? I have you. Even now I still have you with me. I know you know how much that matters. The people you love? They’re what make life worth living.”
Aerith’s breathing slows, as do the strokes of Ifalna’s hands over her skin. “No one made me want to live my life more than you Aerith. If I died because of you then I lived because of you.”
Aerith’s eyes are closed, and she can feel her mother’s heartbeat all over her; something more than an embrace. She stays there for a long while just letting herself feel. Ifalna’s presence never truly leaving her even after the echo of her words are completely lost to the wind.
“She would have been 51. 52, this year, actually.”
Tifa nods, rests her head against her knees as she watches Aerith speak. But Aerith doesn’t have much else to say- she realizes. What’s there to say about this? She spent every day of her life mourning the loss of her mother; why should today be any different?
As if reading her mind, Tifa reaches out, gently takes one of Aerith’s hands and threads their fingers together. “It’s okay to miss her,” she says.
Aerith frowns. She’s not upset at herself for missing her. She’s upset at the universe, that her mother had to miss this. She looks over at Tifa, unshed tears threatening to spill. “It just isn’t fair.” Her throat closes up. Like her entire body was resisting that fact. It was something difficult to even admit out loud. How much of both of their lives had been unfair already? Aerith didn’t want to spend a second longer being sad about it, but she was fighting against something she couldn’t control. A sadness that always existed in her, even when she tried her hardest to pretend it didn’t.
Tifa squeezes the hand in hers, rubs her thumb over her skin, but says nothing else. And Aerith can’t bear to look at her anymore. She’s so patient, and kind, looking at her with so much love it feels overwhelming. Her eyes turn up towards the stars, searching for grace. Gratitude doesn’t come so easy, in this moment. For now, she just wants to be angry. And heartbroken.
When the grass beneath her legs starts to prickle and she stands up abruptly, taking Tifa with her. She had always preferred the richness of the planet, to the emptiness of the sky, but it all feels like too much now. As she turns away from both, Tifa has her wrapped up in her arms before she can blink. Her arms automatically weave around her waist. She grabs fistfuls of her shirt, buries her head in her shoulder, and cries.
There are no words for this. No rituals. The ghost of her mother’s silhouette still haunts her. Even as the colors fade, and the shape of her mouth, her eyes, continue to disfigure in time, she hangs onto that impression of her; slumped against the Undercity railway station. There was a time Aerith herself had felt that. Like she was slipping away. Transparent. The hand on her neck right now brings her back. The same hand that brought her back before.
Tifa holds her there, secure in her embrace, and presses soft kisses into her hair. Strokes soothing patterns down her spine. Demonstrates her love without words. Aerith sobs harder. She’s never felt so angry and yet so grateful for being alive.
She still feels awful when she walks back inside. It’s hard to ignore the concerned look Elmyra turns towards her. And Aerith has been avoiding her all day, she can finally admit it to herself. Their relationship hasn’t always been easy, but Aerith knew they had grown closer since the battle against Sephiroth. Since the whispers in her head quieted down. It wasn’t fair to treat her the way she did before; as a petulant child. As a tormented teenager. But it’s an instinct that feels hard to ignore.
Even now as Elmyra reaches for her hand. Tifa shifts away from Aerith, and Aerith spites her too -a little bit- for abandoning her, until Elmyra sighs. Murmurs, “I never planned for kids. You know? We never wanted them.”
Aerith didn’t know this. She turns to her in shock.
“I always knew I’d never be enough for you. But I had to try anyways.” She presses her lips together firmly. Looks somewhere far away. Aerith both desperately wants to know what she’s thinking, and also hopes she keeps it to herself. She twists her hand in Elmyra’s.
“Maybe I did it, at first, because it was the right thing.” She chuckles. “But I have to admit, I don’t know if I did a single right thing by you. At some point, I had to be honest with myself, that I kept doing this because I loved you, Aerith.” Now she’s looking back at her, and Aerith feels more tethered to this life than she ever has before. “I love you, and you won’t ever make me feel bad enough to stop loving you.”
Aerith chokes out a sob. Whether that’s entirely true or not, a part of her wants to question, but the larger part, the more sensible, sane part, accepts that declaration for what it is. A promise. That she’ll never be alone. That the love of a mother isn’t something in finite amounts. Here, Elmyra’s been reminding her again and again and again. She accepts being pulled into her arms.
“I love you too,” she cries. “I’m sorry for being such a shit today.”
Elmyra laughs. “You always think you’re a bigger challenge than you are. I’ve handled tougher problems.”
Aerith laughs too. Maybe she’ll never quite manage saying the right thing. Maybe Elmyra won’t either. The thought makes her feel better already.
“Can we finally cut the cake now? If I don’t have a slice by 9:30 I’m going to have to skip it and go straight to bed, or else my acid reflux will act up.”
“Ugh, gross.” Aerith shoves at her shoulder. “Tifa. Sweetheart?”
She appears just as quickly as she disappeared, sliding her arm around Aerith’s waist. “Will you do me the honor of cutting my cake for me?”
“Aren’t you supposed to do it?”
Aerith boops her nose. “Traditionally, yes, but I think it’s better to leave a master cake-cutter to the task.”
Elmyra rolls her eyes, but Tifa just laughs. This isn’t exactly new for them. But Tifa’s gotten good at playing along with Aerith’s game. She has a glass of water on the table already, ready to dip the cake-knife to clean it between slices. First, they sing to Aerith, Tifa quietly -still shy- and Elmyra loudly and out of tune. Then Aerith blows out 30 candles, a little red from the effort by the end of it. Tifa replaces her in front of the cake, and makes perfect, even slices, as only she can do.
They all eat a generous amount. They stay up with Elmyra, taking a short walk around her garden to allow her to digest. When they end up on the front step, Tifa leaning sleepily against Aerith’s shoulder, while Aerith and Elmyra discuss quietly the events the day, she sees a shooting star.
Aerith turns to Tifa, eager to show her even though it’s passed already.
“Let her be, Sweetheart. Even mules have to take to rest.”
“You’re comparing my wife to a mule?”
“I’m telling you, you should probably lift more weights.”
Aerith snorts, grins in a way that says that’s never going to happen.
Elmyra grins back. I know.
Aerith leans her head against Elmyra’s shoulder, feeling sleepy too, and before she closes her eyes Elmyra asks her a question.
“So how does it feel to be 30?”
“Weird. Anticlimactic.” She sighs. “A little sad.”
Elmyra squeezes her knee. “That’s alright.”
“Being with you guys made it better.” She swallows thickly. “Thanks Mom.”
Elmyra exhales shortly. Not quite a laugh. She squeezes Aerith’s knee again; turns her head to press a kiss into her hairline. The night air is balmy and nice. And there are no ghosts.