Suitcases Full of Love

Hot.

The air was so hot. It was heavy, and sticky and oppressive. 

It clung to the roof of your mouth and the backs of your ears, hiding in your armpits and the crooks of your elbows. 

Persephone was sitting on the edge of her bed, her suitcase open in front of her, the clothes inside neat and politely recumbent.

In her lap was her stuffed cat, Mirabelle, a gift from her mother all those years ago. She looked up at Pers with loving, yellow eyes, beady with hope.

Persephone fiddled with the handmade collar around her worn neck. 

"P?" Her mother's voice came. "Dinner!" 

Persephone started and yelled that she was coming.

And then slowly, she put Mirabelle in the back of her cupboard, and shut the door guiltily.

Her mother was talking, but as usual, as she had nothing to say, Pers said nothing. The potatoes on her plate stared back at her, the only potatoes on the table that still wore their jackets. 

She sighed.

The night would be better she thought. She allowed herself that much hope.

But when she was washing the dishes, it was not without a creased brow and a drooping mouth. 

Her mother was putting leftovers away, 80s music playing in the background.

Persephone made non-committal one syllable noises in response to her mother's friendly chatter, all the while dreading what was to pass in a few days.

When she finished the last dish, her mother looked at her and wiggled her eyebrows. "Ready?" A too-wide smile on her face.

They sat down together, crammed into a one seater couch rather than the two or three-seater ones. Her mother flipped her laptop open, browsing horror movies slowly.

Persephone feigned interest, but the truth was that she wasn't bothered by what movie they watched tonight. She held on tightly to the familiar routine that her and her mother had created, this silly, ironic business of watching movies that made you anxious, squished up in a chair that was never meant for more than one.

Because that was comfortable. Watching uncomfortable movies in an uncomfortable chair with your mom.

And then Persephone was crying. She was crying and she didn't know how to stop, the guilt and fear drowning her suddenly. Not for her future, but for the person she had to leave behind, the awkward person who was funny and strange and liked horror movies as much as she did, who never knew the right thing to say but whose company she sought for comfort anyway.

Her mother didn't say anything. She sat there and let Persephone cry onto her shoulder and gave her a hug. 

They never were any good with words. 

"Don't let me hold you back." Her voice came softly. "I'll be okay. I'm always okay."

And that made Persephone cry even more.

The night was deathly still. Persephone couldn't sleep and the heat of the day had disappeared far into the recesses of the evening, dissolving like cotton candy in water. She lay awake, still and unsettled, her brow waxen with unrest. 

She got out of bed in one movement, her blanket undisturbed as she had been so still. 

Her soft paddy-paws made no sound as she walked across the floor to the master bedroom, where she lifted the blanket and crawled in next to her mother. 

"P?"

"Please may I stay?"

"Always."

The next day was no easier. Although the heat was tempered with a splash of rain, the two women continued their painful dance. Persephone came downstairs to see if perhaps her mother wanted to go out for bubble tea. 

"Well, I wouldn't like some, no thank you, but let's go anyway!"

"An adventure." Her daughter smiled.

The rain had dwindled into the tiniest drops of water, and by the time the pair had gotten a coffee and a bubble tea respectively, the weather was sunny again. They sat in the square of a building, by a water feature that gurgled happily as they found a spot in the shade. 

Persephone found that her drink was not sweet enough; or perhaps, it was that she remembered it sweeter than it had been. She stared down at the tapioca pearls swirling in the milk tea, fading in and out of sight.

"Can we please buy some pearls? For me to take?"

"Sure. And some Milo too?"

She smiled and nodded at her mother. 

"Yes please."

As it turned out, they ended up getting more things that just that. Fried rice paste and fried onions, instant noodles and sambal, even some bandung syrup.

Persephone spent the ride home recalculating the packing of her suitcases, the shuffling of her textbooks, the possible leaving behind of socks.

By evening, Persephone's mother was crying. She washed her face with cold water in the sink, checked the mirror carefully to see that her face was no longer red, and walked up the stairs to her daughter's room.

"Hi," she said as she came in.

"Hi, come sit." Persephone said, gesturing to her bed.

She obliged, watching her daughter play Tetris with her things in her suitcase.

She reached out and petted her daughter's hair, black as pitch but shiny like starlight. She petted her shoulder, smooth and honey brown. She petted her ear, large and rounded like her father's. 

She was crying again.

Her daughter turned around slowly, without a sound, and put her head in her mother's lap.

They never were any good with words.

The final day. The sun shone in through the windows. Persephone's heart was thumping, but it was heavy as well. Today was the day.

She was up far before her mother, who was still snoring lightly beside her. She dressed warm, the airport was always freezing. Her suitcases were lugged silently into their car, and then she fed their cat, who was oblivious to what was about to happen.

She made her mother French toast and waited patiently as she heard her getting ready upstairs.

They sang on their last car ride together. Duran Duran, her mother's favourite. And everytime there was a traffic light or a straight road, she held her mother's hand.

She texted her best friend.

Hi ❤️ can u still ride home with mom?

Hey! Of course. I wouldn't ever let her ride home alone after having to see you off. I'll message her asa you tell me to.

Thank you. From the bottom of my heart.

She smiled. Her mother might have brought her up, but she could do some of the caretaking as well.

The airport was quiet, and Persephone was glad for it as she sobbed into her mother's jacket. It was easy to see where she got her intolerance to cold from.

They laughed about that too.

"Can I get you something? Anything else? You have enough pads? One last chocolate doughnut? You always get one when we come to the airport."

Her mother said, struggling between words.

"No thank you," she laughed. "I do usually get the doughnut, but when we see other people off. I've never been the one leaving, I'm not - I don't really have an appetite. I'm fine. I'm fine. Everything is going to be okay."

The walk away from her mother was the hardest thing she ever had to do. She kept turning back to see her face, round and full of unconditional love.

Persephone clung to thoughts of how proud her mother was of her, and how determined she was to validate that.

She turned around once more, finally, right before she wouldn't be able to see her mother anymore, and there she was, where she left her, waving and blowing kisses, her face red and wet but still smiling.

Persephone was a mirror. She made a big heart gesture over her head, and then she took something out of her backpack.

High above her head, she held up her stuffed cat Mirabelle, a gift from her mother all those years ago, her mother who was now smiling wider than ever and waving a genuinely good-willed goodbye.

And Persephone set off, to see what would happen next, with suitcases full of her mother's love.