A Paper Menagerie

I try to be strong. I try to never allow anyone to see me cry. I try not to cry.

I ride the highs and lows of life like a Thassan wave, although I’m afraid the current pulls me under far more than the crest lifts me upward.

After a merry romp in the kitchen I was feeling ecstatic and very much looking forward to Charming’s bed time story. Cain tells the best stories, full of vivid personalities and picturesque landscapes. Usually they are tales of his homeland, of which I love to hear about.

Tonight had been one such yarn and with the words of magic he began to fold a piece of paper into a small animal. It caught me off guard and I stared, I suppose for too long, a frown knitting at my brow. It got me thinking of the paper menagerie that Lucian had crafted for Charm so long ago, and that got me thinking about Olivia. I tied to hide my momentary sadness, but nothing escapes Charm or her father, and so that there were no secrets to questions, I relented and told him about the paper critters.

He immediately rose and walked from the room, me left to stare after him. Charm didn’t seem all too pleased with me either, crushing the small paper woman he’d made between small fingers. Sometimes she is so much like her father it’s eerie. Aside from my red hair, there is nothing of me that resides within her. When I look at her, I see Nia and the influence of her teachings. I’ve always thought that Charm would inherit the cards, but now, I’m not so sure. Perhaps she is destined for another path.

We have different points of view when it comes to raising out daughter and I suppose that’s something that will never change. I want her to be a child, to enjoy the freedom of being young, of being innocent, and though she is innocent in many ways, there is a darker side to our daughter that I do not completely understand and reluctantly admit. He embraces that darker side, while I try to temper it.

I can’t seem to help but offend him because I have feelings for Olivia. Perhaps he sees her as a betrayal, a time in my life when I needed something other than him, but I refuse to regret a daughter that I wanted so much, even if I did lose her in the end. Some things are worth the pain.

Which brings me back to my son.

I’m not allowed to see him alone. He says it is because I am too emotional. To this I cannot argue, I am that, even though I try not to allow it to seep through. I’m not a weak woman. Sometimes broken, but not weak.

I wish he could see the difference.