Twisted Shadows

Natasha flung open her old, wooden shutters on her bedroom window. She used the thick white satin ribbons hanging uselessly by the side to tie the red-blue-and-black gingham curtains back so she could see outside. Smiling at the sunny bright blue sky and the light breeze, the perfect weather for her plans that day, she walked over the newly polished hardwood floor panels and gently tugged open her mother’s old armoire. She sighed and ran her fingers over the rough carvings of letters and digits - the names and phone numbers of Natasha’s mom’s old friends. Maybe one day she would get up the nerve to call them and explain what had happened and why Nella (her mom) had stopped returning their calls. 

When Natasha and her dad moved out to the old broken down countryside acreage several miles east of anywhere known in Minnesota, her father claimed that it was all for a ‘new experience’. He also claimed that fixing up the barnhouse would be a good time for father daughter bonding, but really, Natasha had done all the renovating while he sat in a corner and sulked, surrounded by creepy-looking shadows. However, she knew the real reason why they had left: the truth was in the fear that you could see etched on his face whenever one of Nella’s friends called the landline after she died. He was running away from her, from love, because he didn’t want to be hurt again. So, this is exactly why Natasha pushed his boundaries and begged - okay more so forced - him to let her keep all of her mother’s old possessions. 

So now, as she went through her mother’s expensive jewelry collection to find something that would look nice with her light blue ripped skinny jeans and black, white, and gray boyfriend fit button down shirt combo, she was reminded of her mother’s love when she looked in the cracked mirror and saw how much they looked alike. Taking a sharp breath, she placed two matching lengths of a creamy white satin ribbon - the ones Nella had worn when she got married - on the dresser. Then, she steady her shaking fingers and delicately separated her hair in two parts and french braided her auburn hair down her scalp and behind her ears. About halfway through the hair she could style, Natasha tied it off with the ribbons, and grabbed the leather cowboy hat off the coat hook beside the bedroom door and plopped it on her head before glancing in the mirror again. Perfect.

Barefooted, Natasha crept as quietly as she could down the creaky spiral staircase and smiled at her father as she slipped into her place across the table from him. He had bags under his eyes, making his face appear bruised, and like most anniversary days, he looked like he needed more than all the coffee in the world. He flipped the page of his newspaper and grunted in response to his only daughter entering the room, before taking a gulp of his yeti-sized dark roast, looking up, and frowning. 

“Niña, where do you think where do you think you’re going?” he grimaced at his daughter’s outfit before adding quietly, “Nat, you look like your mamacità.” Natasha sank in her chair. Today was supposed to be a good day. She had planned to spend the entire twenty four hours she loved in memory of her mother’s death, not to sulk around the house like a lazy slug all day. And now, her father was busting into spanish like he always did when he was missing his wife. Glancing at the pantry door, which was propped slightly open, Natasha noticed the unusual shadows she had noticed before creeping up the floor. Ignoring the oddity of the twisted shadows in her kitchen in the middle of the day, Natasha stood up and reached in her back pocket, keeping the gift inclosed in her palm. 

“Papi, I found this in the back of one of mamacità’s old books. It came with a note, so I thought you should have it.'' She allowed her spanish accent, which she had tried so hard to lose because she knew it reminded her dad of Nella, to seep back into her voice. “I’m going to see Tom today. Then, when I come back, we can plant some lilacs by mamacità’s grave.” opening her hand, Natasha placed a wrinkled piece of paper and a diamond ring on the table. The missing ring that everyone had thought had fallen down the air vent in their old appartement when Nella had the heart attack. The ring that was now in her dad’s hand, sending tears to his eyes. He looked up at his daughter, who was smiling cautiously, unaware of whether this had been a good idea, and he placed the ring back on the table before jumping up to hug Natasha. They stayed that way until Natasha - who was not accustomed to her dad openly offering love, awkwardly pulled away and went for her shoes, wide ankled white heeled boots. 

“Si niña, you can go see Thomas.” he pause, unsure of what to say next, before finishing, “Have fun.” Natasha tipped her hat at him before glancing back at the twisted shadows on the floor. They were still there, and even more bizarrely, there were now pink daisies interspersed among the darkness. Natasha stood up after tying her shoes and waved before shutting the door silently behind her. 

On the walk to the place where Tom had promised to meet her in their text chain the night before, she pondered the matter. Both the flowers and the twisted shadows had shown up suddenly, both in times and places that they should not be. She decided that the flowers must have represented her mother’s love, finding a way to work itself back into their lives, and the shadows were her father’s fear of love, and how much he missed Nella. Natasha thought some more, until she reached a gravel road that led back to Minnesota. And there, waiting patiently for her, was a dark head of hair that she had once seen many times a day, and that she now knew so well. 

“Tom!” She screeched, taking off running towards him. Turning around just in time, Tom extended his arms and lifted Natasha off the ground as she jumped on him. Through tears, she hugged him and mumbled, “I missed you.” Tom looked at her through tears of his own, and smiled at her before placing her back on the ground and kissing her lightly on the cheek. 

“I missed you more.” They walked off the pathway into the waist deep grass that lined that side of the road and broke into conversation as easily as they had before the move. Natasha explained her theory of the twisted shadows and the flowers' connection to her mom and her dad, and Tom agreed. And from the time that they met until Natasha returned to her father at sunset, Natasha made up her mind to never block love out. Ever.