Erin had never been a daughter, not really. She'd been an investment, she'd been a disappointment-- but never that idealized form of child that was sweet and precious and allowed simple existence.
Charlie had been more like a mother than anyone ever had been. She cared, she watched, she protected and advised. And though Erin would often do what Charlie advised against... she would never lecture her for it. Just about it. It was a strange relationship of give and take that she both resented and revered.
Being under the same roof was eye opening-- not only was the view of the sea the most calming thing in her life, but also the simple laughter of a child. It was as if she had stumbled onto a family in a way. Though, always on the outside looking in-- in her own mind. Even PJ seemed to fall into a roll that was something of nurturing, and to Erin, Zach seemed to be the most spoiled child in all of Rhydin.
It was October. The time of the year when things got bad for Erin-- memories bubbled up like tar in a bit. Too hot to stay, too thick to breathe. It was two years since Chrissy now, and she was no closer to being healed. In fact, she felt miles away.
The laughter of a child, the brightness of one, was both a sharp reminder-- a dagger in the heart of the small Englishwoman. Seeing Zach at this time of year? A constant reminder of what she, herself had lost and could not regain. Erin existed on an ethos of hope. And what was more hopeful than a child?
And yet, the joy she felt when with the boy could not be converted into her life. Could not be turned into a path that led her where she needed to be-- to go. It was two years since Chrissy, and one year since meeting Sebastian. It was a past of turmoil and dreams that could never inflate...
And so that was how she became the ghost of Tabula Rasa. Up all night, wandering halls. At first it started with a pace of her suite. Then just a walk down the hall. Checking on Zach. Making sure PJ wasn't passed out in a hallway. Checking to see when Charlie got home. And then it became a pace. A walk. An around and round that wasn't ending...
The restless spirit of the house taking out all the tensions, all the worry, all the pent up energy that was ready to burst and wearing it into the floor.
Charlie had been more like a mother than anyone ever had been. She cared, she watched, she protected and advised. And though Erin would often do what Charlie advised against... she would never lecture her for it. Just about it. It was a strange relationship of give and take that she both resented and revered.
Being under the same roof was eye opening-- not only was the view of the sea the most calming thing in her life, but also the simple laughter of a child. It was as if she had stumbled onto a family in a way. Though, always on the outside looking in-- in her own mind. Even PJ seemed to fall into a roll that was something of nurturing, and to Erin, Zach seemed to be the most spoiled child in all of Rhydin.
It was October. The time of the year when things got bad for Erin-- memories bubbled up like tar in a bit. Too hot to stay, too thick to breathe. It was two years since Chrissy now, and she was no closer to being healed. In fact, she felt miles away.
The laughter of a child, the brightness of one, was both a sharp reminder-- a dagger in the heart of the small Englishwoman. Seeing Zach at this time of year? A constant reminder of what she, herself had lost and could not regain. Erin existed on an ethos of hope. And what was more hopeful than a child?
And yet, the joy she felt when with the boy could not be converted into her life. Could not be turned into a path that led her where she needed to be-- to go. It was two years since Chrissy, and one year since meeting Sebastian. It was a past of turmoil and dreams that could never inflate...
And so that was how she became the ghost of Tabula Rasa. Up all night, wandering halls. At first it started with a pace of her suite. Then just a walk down the hall. Checking on Zach. Making sure PJ wasn't passed out in a hallway. Checking to see when Charlie got home. And then it became a pace. A walk. An around and round that wasn't ending...
The restless spirit of the house taking out all the tensions, all the worry, all the pent up energy that was ready to burst and wearing it into the floor.