Sprawlings Ayita Jareau was, for all intents and purposes, a very happy young woman. She was nearing the end of a bachelor’s degree in Magizoology with a paid internship that promised to turn into a full career upon receiving her diploma. Her bank account was rather full, with nearly two years of essentially untouched internship paychecks, which were not substantial in their individuality but added up nicely. And she had a wonderful family in the Kijewski-Jareau household, a place to come home to where she belonged and was loved, even when things weren’t so good.
And over the summer, things had not been so good. The eldest of her adoptive siblings, Angel, remained on what seemed like an ever-descending medical escapade, appearing to require more and more just to sustain him. To make the matters a bit more complicated, owls had begun arriving from a woman who, she learned, was biologically Chloe’s mother. Ayita did not know what that meant beyond the fact that it seemed to shake everyone up a bit, particularly Chloe herself.
Ayita did not have much experience in this type of matter; she knew what it was like to be estranged from one’s own parents, but she had never been in a situation where said estranged parent attempted to contact her. When she spoke last to her father, that was it, and as for her mother, well… she had never met her. It was a norm of the culture into which she had been born.
But here, mothers and their children were very close. She saw the way Kiva looked at Emery and Harper, the same way she looked at Chloe at Angel and even Ayita herself, and it was a very distinct and powerful connection. Of course, Kiva was an extraordinary woman with an incredible talent for motherly love, so the Pecari alumna was unsure if this was a constant for all mothers or just the one she had been fortunate enough to acquire. Was Chloe’s biological mother the same way? Ayita had no proof of it, although she did not particularly have proof to the contrary. She did not know a whole lot about addiction, but what she did know seemed devastating, strong enough to break even that motherly bond.
Personally, Ayita felt that if Chloe’s mother was reaching out--even if it was fifteen years late--it had to mean something. If Chloe did not mean anything to the woman, she would not have bothered. For this reason, she felt that her little sister ought to give the woman a chance, although it would still be wise to keep a certain level of emotional protection in place. Nonetheless, it was a chance.
She felt very happy that Chloe could confide in her, but even after she and Emery had returned to Sonora, Ayita could not remove the situation from her mind. It had triggered an ocean of new thoughts, whispered inquiries about her own biological mother, a woman who for approximately eleven years had lived in the same building as her without even the slightest interaction. She did not even know what her mother looked like. By examining from the standpoint of this wizarding society, that seemed unprecedentedly… weird.
The more Ayita thought about her, the more she wanted to know her. Sometimes her sleeping consciousness invented a face and assigned it to a figure her dream-self seemed to recognize as her mother, and she would chase after her, bare feet pounding against dirt and twigs and rocks and feeling nothing, nothing but the chase. Then she would wake up to aching soles, and until she removed the covers to check could swear her toes were covered in scratches. Other times there would be no face and no figure, just a lilting voice she had also invented that cooed her name and spoke words Ayita had now long forgotten the meanings to, and she would wake up with a smile and no pain at all. She liked those dreams better.
One Sunday in late September, she woke up from one such dream and felt a cool wind blowing through her open window. It was 4:30 in the morning, but Ayita knew she was not going to return to sleep, not after one of those dreams. Without changing from her long-flowing nightgown--a style of sleepwear she had found she preferred--she scooped up parchment and a pen, and slipped out of her bedroom and down the hall, peeking briefly into Harper and Angel’s rooms as she passed just to check on her siblings. In perfect silence she shuffled through the house, settling at the dining room table and spreading out her materials. A nervous hand dragged shakily across the top of the paper:
Mother,
She opted to forgo any sort of prelude, offering no “dear” or “my loving” or even “to”. Grey eyes looked it over; it was sufficient.
Forgive me for addressing you in such a manner. I do not know what else to call you. I never learned your name.
Mine is Ayita Jareau. I once was called Ayita Bly. I was your daughter. Do you remember me?
I do not remember you. I have never met you. Do you regret that? I understand it was the way (she paused, hand stalling, while she sifted through phrases in her mind.) things worked for us. Was it worth it?
Did you really replace me like I imagined you would? Father always said you would. A son would be
She stopped, looking it over.
A son would be I think he knew early on that I would leave and not come back.
Did you ever miss me? Did you ever want to raise me? Did you love me?
Ayita Jareau.
When she glanced up from the parchment, she could see the sun rising out the window. She returned her gaze to her letter. Or was it really even a letter when she had no means to send it? Ayita knew how to get back there, but no owl would know to whom they were to deliver it. And even she, upon return, would not know how to locate this woman. Not to mention if she returned, she did not know if she would be allowed to leave again.
Ayita reread the page once more before ripping it in half several times over and escorting its remains to the garbage can. From there, she decided it was late enough to start breakfast; who knew when her family might begin to stir?
OOC: All Chloe-related things have been mentioned in posts on Sonora prior to this. Chloe's post can be found here, and Emery's can be found here