I watch her straighten up, and for a split second, there's this flicker of pride—she didn’t sense me coming. I caught her off guard. But then she turns, and the second her eyes find mine, it all hits me at once. The nearness of her. The weight of it. I don’t remember moving, but suddenly I’m hugging her, arms tight around her as if I could just hold her forever and never let go.
She holds me back just as tightly.
She’s smaller than I remember. I don’t know if that’s time or loneliness or just me having grown. But gods, she’s still her. She still smells the same—smoke and something herbal and warm—and her voice, when she says my name, wraps around my ribs like a memory I didn’t know I’d lost. It feels like no time has passed at all. And also like everything’s changed.
When she steps aside and gestures, my brain doesn’t catch up right away. Then I see her.
Oh gods. Vai.
My eyes go wide, and my heart punches into my throat. “Right. No biting. Hi,” I manage, and my grin just happens, crooked and way too wide and probably mildly unhinged.
Mom catches my hand, murmurs now is when you want to be shy?, and tugs me forward like I’m five years old again and hiding behind her legs. I go. Of course I go. My legs feel like they’ve stopped working properly but I take the steps anyway.
I look at the woman I’ve heard stories about my whole life. I want to say something clever, something meaningful. Instead—
“You’re… really beautiful,” I blurt, and yep, that sounded exactly as dumb as I feared.
but my god, you're alive and it's spectacular
