"Anna."
____________
Delia quietly knocked.
“It’s alright Deels,” Patsy called out.
The brunette peeked in and was surprised to see Patsy sitting on the sofa gazing out the window with a somewhat relaxed expression.
She took a moment to appreciate the stark contrast between this Pats, that was able to be still, and the Pats who had needed to clean incessantly to prevent a panic.
“Sweetheart?”
“I’m finished for now Deels.”
“That was fast,” Delia said, moving across the room to sit beside her lover.
“I suppose it was. Flowed out quite quickly,” Patsy replied, not breaking her far off gaze.
“Sounds like it was more than ready to come out.”
“Yes. Yes I believe it was.”
Without looking, Patsy reached out and rested her hand on Delia’s. “Would you like to read it?”
“Oh…” Delia’s eyes widened with shock. She had assumed her lover would want to keep the writing private. “Would you like me to read it sweetheart?”
“I’m not sure,” Patsy said, as her eyes refocused but still avoided Delia’s searching gaze. She slowly adjusted her position and moved to lay on her side, resting her head in the younger woman’s lap.
“It’s about Anna…”
Delia felt her heart ache as she thought of the three or four sentences her lover had shared about a girl with that name who had been in the camp. She had tried to escape, and when brought back, she was brutally beaten in front of the other girls as a warning. The injuries she had sustained were so severe she died soon after. Delia had gathered those few details while on a walk at Rose’s cottage after Patsy had a flashback to the experience when they had been snowed in.
“She was a friend… I could never say that before… she was one of the few friends I had… after it happened I did my best to tell myself she wasn’t… it was easier to just make her a stranger. To be indifferent as one can sometimes be with strangers, but I wasn’t indifferent. And she wasn’t a stranger… not at all. She was a friend…” Patsy’s voice cracked.
Delia slowly ran her fingers through red hair then let her hand rest lightly on her lover’s head as she picked up the paper and began to read.
‘I hate how cruel they were. I hate what was done to her. I hate what was done to my friend. I hate that she knew that pain. I hate how she suffered. I hate how young she was. How could anyone harm someone so young? So innocent. So smart. So kind. So full of life and optimism and potential and dreams… I hate the ones who hurt her. I hate how the bright light in her eyes dimmed before her spirit left her body. I can’t stop seeing the light that was dimmed in her eyes as the weight of vicious cruelty pressed upon her. I hate what she endured. I hate the pain she knew. I hate the violence we saw. I hate how her body looked at the end of her life. I hate the cruelty. I hate these images that fill my mind. I hate her screams and cries that still echo in my ears. I hate the violence that haunts my dreams.’
Delia paused and closed her eyes, taking a slow deep breath as she settled her energy. The compassionate heart pain had deepened with the new knowledge that the girl named Anna had been more than an acquaintance to Patsy. Thinking of her lover seeing a friend harmed in that way left drops of grief running down her cheeks. She rested her hand lightly on Patsy’s arm and the redhead reached up and covered her hand then interlaced their fingers.
“She was my friend. She was my friend during the hardest time of my life. I don’t know if I would have survived that time without her. She slept in the bunk above mine for fourteen months. We would whisper stories to each other at night before bed… stories of things we had known before the camp… make believe stories… stories of what we thought life would be like when we were free… After my mother and sister died, she would tell me stories of how beautiful she thought the place was where those who die are now... She would describe peaceful streams and beautiful gardens full of sunshine where she thought my sister and mother and her two brothers were… I fell asleep so many nights listening to her describe that place.”
“She sounds wonderful, Pats,” Delia said as she wiped away her tears and pulled the older woman closer.
“She was.”
Delia’s eyes traveled down to the second chunk of scribbled writing. From a few words in she could see the next bit of Patsy’s scrawled thoughts had a much different tone.
‘Out of Anna’s laughter came rainbows that filled our tent with violets and indigos. Anna’s smile was full of sunbeams that lit the paths we walked. Anna’s stories brightened the darkest of nights. Starlight shown in Anna’s eyes. Anna was light- a light so bright the darkness fought to destroy her flame. Anna’s light was not extinguished by the darkness. Anna’s spirit continues to burn bright. Anna’s light can be seen in the rising sun. Anna’s light is not dim. It is not dull. It is radiant. Anna’s radiance will not be forgotten. Anna, my friend, your radiance glows as bright as the sun forevermore. Anna, thank you for the light you brought to my life. Thank you my friend. May you enjoy your sunshine in the gardens by the stream.’
The brunette stared at the page long after she had finished reading.
Finally, Delia cleared her throat. “You spoke about her so beautifully, Pats,” Delia said as she wiped away tears and set the paper down. “I’m so sorry you lost your friend, or rather, I’m sorry she was taken from you.” The younger woman ran her fingers through red hair as she rested her elbow on the arm of the sofa and looked out the window. “The things she went through… nothing will ever make that right.”
Patsy felt a surge of love move through her as Delia said all the right things about her grief. She turned to her other side so that she could face the brunette and looked up from where her head rested in her lover’s lap.
“I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again. You never forget what dreadful cruelty people are capable of, but it’s our choice whether or not we focus on that cruelty. I know Anna wouldn’t want me to think about what I saw happen to her, she would want me to think about her stories and how she made me laugh. She would want me to think about the good parts of her, so that’s what I will try to do.”
Delia smiled and let her palm rest on Patsy’s cheek. “How about we light a candle for the three of them tonight?"
Patsy nodded as tears welled. “The 15th of March is… has been… well you see… I’d rather not let it go on as the monster it’s been for me.”
“You aren’t Pats. You’re changing it now,” the younger woman replied as her lover took her hand.
“No, Deels. We’re changing it.” Patsy brought Delia’s hand to her lips. “Just like the rest of the unsavory bits of life we’ve faced. We’re changing them together now.”