Reunited?

"Visit Grandma? Oh n-" Sonya stifled an 'Oh no'. "Oh great," she finished lamely, glad that her mother couldn't see her from over the phone.

"I thought you would like it," her mother said. "You must be looking forward to seeing her again after so long. You two were so close." She still remembered the cheerful, carefree Sonya of ten years ago, the one who giggled when she was tickled and said in her adorable indignant voice that she 'wasn't a baby anymore'. How much had changed since then.

On the other end, Sonya was having the same thought. She hung up with a sigh, and as the news properly sank in she grew more and more anxious.

What if she isn't as I remember her? What if she doesn't remember me?

Minutes passed and still she couldn't think of anything but 'What if's. When she was younger, it had been her favourite question. Now all it awarded her was more anxiety.

What if she makes me talk? What if I say the wrong thing and don't know that I've said it? What if I upset her? What if?

Sonya stopped herself, staring fretfully at the framed photos beside her bed. It won't happen again. For once, she allowed the thought to slip through. It made her sadder, but at least it relieved some of her anxiety. It won't happen again.

Two Days Later

Sonya and her mother were shown in by a nurse, who smiled at them and said, "She's been waiting all morning for you. She was so happy when you called, she looked almost like a girl again!" Sonya smiled back, anxiety momentarily washed away.

The room was sparse. The only decorations were a wooden cuckoo clock, painted light green, a thick red rug and a little circular mirror with sun rays, intricately patterned, spreading out in all directions. The furniture consisted of a low table and two large chairs.

An old lady sat in the biggest chair. She looked perfectly ordinary until you saw her eyes. While one was brown, the other was icy blue, and both twinkled with childish enjoyment. Sonya remembered Grandma telling her stories of those eyes, staring into them rapturously.

"Don't stand there gawping," said the old lady mischievously. "Sit down."

Sonya sat before noticing that her mother now had no chair. She half got up, embarrassed, but her grandmother chuckled and told her to stay seated.

"It serves Emma right for not getting there first," she said. "She ought to remember that 'He who hesitates lost'." Sonya smiled nervously, but the longer she sat in the chair, the more uncomfortable she felt about leaving her mother standing.

"Little Sonya is grown-up now. Has she changed inside, I wonder," her grandmother said, leaning forward as if she could see into Sonya's soul.

Sonya laughed uncomfortably, confused. She shook her head, unsure of what answer was expected of her.

Her grandmother continued, talking almost to herself in the way that Sonya had loved when she was younger. "She doesn't seem as talkative as she used to be. I wonder why."

Then, to Sonya's great relief, she changed the subject. "You must be twenty by now. These modern girls grow so quickly." She grinned, aware that she shared her conversation matter with hundreds of other grandmothers.

Nineteen, Sonya corrected silently. She tried to talk as little as possible these days. Say nothing, and no-one can be affected by what you say.

"Surely you haven't grown up enough to forget the stories I used to tell you? I remember your favourite one," her grandmother reminisced.

"I remember Grandma." The story of how her eyes became mismatched. How it had fascinated young Sonya. Grandma had once had two brown eyes, but one had been stolen by Hermes the Greek messenger god to replace the left eye of Horus, the Egyptian god of war. Her missing eye was then replaced with an eye made of magical glacier ice that would never melt.

"So my Sonya has a voice after all!" Grandma said, laughing. Sonya fidgeted awkwardly.

"How is she doing at school?"

Emma answered, knowing that her daughter was too embarrassed to speak.

"Sonya has won a scholarship at Oxford University. She one of only two in her year," she said proudly.

"I always knew she was a bright little thing. Subjects?"

Sonya broke her rule of silence to reply eagerly. "Creative writing and history." They were her favourite subjects the only things that she was passionate about. The only things that helped her forget.

"History, eh? Your great-grandfather was a famous historian. It's in your blood. You can't go wrong with blood subjects."

Emma looked at her daughter to see how she coped with the unconscious reference that Grandma had made. Sonya thought that her mother didn't know, but she had never been a good actress.

Sonya was coping well. Thankfully the news that her great-grandfather had been a famous historian had drifted her off into dreams, and the reference went unnoticed. The next question, however, snapped her out of her dreams.

"How many friends have you got now? Tell me about them. You were such a popular child." Sonya went white, but her grandmother had never been the sort of person who noticed things like that.

"I - I don't have any, Grandma," Sonya stammered. Since - Then - she had been too scared to make friends with anyone, in case - She wouldn't think of it.

"What, have you killed them all? And what about Chloe? I used to be quite jealous of her, you know. You loved her so much more than you loved me."

She couldn't help but notice that she'd said something wrong. Sonya got up silently and left the room, her face ashen, her lips trembling.

She heard her mother say 'It wasn't your fault', but she wasn't sure if it was to her or her grandmother. The front door closed behind her, but she could still hear her mother through the window. "Chloe has gone - on a journey." Her mother did know. She'd known all along.

The cold air stung Sonya's cheeks. She wouldn't, she wouldn't cry. Despite telling this to herself fiercely, she found tears dropping to the grass beneath her feet.

She stood there, still, cold, and feeling lonelier than she had ever felt before.

Time heals all wounds, she said silently, over and over, then gave herself up to tears. It wasn't true. Her wound wasn't healed, would never be healed.

She let herself cry for a few minutes, letting out all the pain and sorrow she'd been bottling up for the last 3 years. It helped, just a little bit.

When she was finished, the nurse came out. Sonya was too upset to think that her timing was a little too perfect for coincidence.

"Your Grandma enjoyed seeing you," the nurse said gently. "She would like to see you again. Will you come back?" Sonya, knowing her Grandma's ways, took it as a Sorry for upsetting her.

She paused. She has loved her Grandma's company when she was younger, and now... She had no other friends.

"Often," Sonya answered.