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It was a pleasingly quiet Wednesday evening at the Forgers’ house. Loid Forger was reading his paper while comfortably sitting in his chair in the living room. Perhaps, he was feeling way too cozy, because occasionally his eyes would remain closed a little longer after each blink.
As usual, the Spy Wars theme song was blasting from the TV, and little Anya was singing along.
Yor was watching this scenario from the kitchen sink, her heart finding the environment of domestic bliss endearing.
Everything was going well, no a disturbance in the air, a strange but not unwelcome state for the family, until a scream in the distance broke the ambience of peace.
Yor and Loid shared a worried look, Loid taking the lead and getting up from the loveseat.
“Yor, please stay with Anya. I’ll go see what’s going on.” the father said, heading to the door.
“Wait! What if it’s dangerous, maybe I should go.”
“Don’t worry, Yor. I’ll just go see if anyone needs help.” Loid shot her an encouraging smile. “Be right back.”
Loid got out of the apartment and started walking toward the commotion that appeared to be coming from the end of the hall. When he got there, he noticed that a small crowd had been formed outside one of the doors. He was hesitant to come closer because as a spy it would be better not to engage in any risky situations, unless necessary; especially with this many potential witnesses; however, as he was about to leave, one of the neighbours spotted him and call out.
“Oh, Doctor Forger, good to see you here.”
“Good evening, Ms. Katz. I got worried when I heard some screaming coming from here and thought perhaps somebody needed help.”
“And you were right, Doctor.” Ms. Katz said, guiding him through the crowd and into the apartment. “Mr. Barlowe just died, and the paramedics are trying to retrieve the body to take it to the hospital, you know, for all the paperwork, but poor Katherine refuses to let go of him. We thought that maybe you, being a psychiatrist, could talk to her.”
“Oh.” Well, one of the downsides of maintaining a character for too long was that people grew familiar with your persona and began expect things from you. Like now, he had to play the part of an experienced psychiatrist convincing his neighbour to release the corpse of her husband. “Of course, I’ll try."
…
Three hours had passed since Loid left and Yor couldn’t bear the anxiety anymore. What if something happened to him? What if the screaming had been caused by a fight, and Loid had been hurt trying to stop it? What if he was in a hospital? Or worse, what if he was bleeding on the street, all alone? She wanted to go look for him, but she couldn't leave Anya by herself.
Maybe she could call Franky to watch Anya, but she was sure Anya would ask why, and Yor didn’t want to scare the poor thing.
Just as she was debating what to do, the front door opened, revealing Loid’s tired form.
“Loid!” Yor said, relieved. “Thank goodness, I was getting really worried.”
“It’s okay. It was nothing dangerous.”
“So, what was all that screaming about?”
“Mr. Barlowe passed away, and Mrs. Barlowe didn’t want to let go of him. Thankfully I managed to convince her to let the paramedics do their work.”
“Oh, that must have been heartbreaking.” Tears threatened to spill from the black-haired woman's eyes. “They were always together. She’ll feel really lonely now.”
“Yes, it’ll be a hard process.”
“Maybe we should visit her once in a while, keep her company.”
Loid gives his wife a subtle but warm smile. “That’s a nice idea, Yor.”
While her parents spoke, little Anya had a frown on her face. It was one of those times, albeit rare, where she would look too serious for her age.
“Why do people die?”
The sudden question left both parents speechless.
It was expected that this question (along with the one about the birds and the bees) would pop up one day, but Anya was a really young child and had never shown signs of having this kind of doubt in her mind.
Considering Anya’s past, Twilight had assumed that she was already familiar with death. Still, perhaps she had been too little to understand the circumstances that led her to the orphanage. Maybe she didn’t even remember her birth parents, as the only indication of her doing so, was that day at the Eden interview, but when he asked her about it, she preferred not to approach the subject.
Loid was the first to speak. “Well, it's because everything has an end,” he paused, trying to come up with a less philosophical answer. “Like your anime, every episode has a beginning and an end.”
Anya looked at him, processing the information, but still appearing dissatisfied.
“But after every Spy Wars episode comes another.” she pointed out.
This time, Yor intervened. “That also happens in life, you know Miss Anya. When people die, they go to another place to rest.”
A thought seemed to strike Anya, and energetically she asked. “Can we go too?”
“I’m afraid no.” Loid said apologetically. “At least not right now.”
“Why not?” her bottom lip quivered.
“Because it’s not our time,” he hated to see her cry. “All people have some kind of a task that they need to complete, and once they do, it’s time for them to go.”
Anya froze, and he knew, right there, that he’d given the wrong answer.
“That’s mean. They abandon people.” she broke into sobs.
“Oh no, Miss Anya.” Yor breathed out as she ran to take Anya into her arms and cuddle her on the couch.
Loid didn’t know what to do; the spy in him was panicking a little. This conversation was suspicious, considering their cover story. His made up first wife, Anya’s fake mother, had died not too long ago, they should have had this chat then. Surely Yor might think it’s weird that Anya was reacting this way right now. But, on the other side, she seemed more concerned about their daughter’s tears.
“They don’t want to leave, Anya. But sometimes they have to. It’s out of their control.” Yor said gently.
“They leave us all alone.” Anya sniffed loudly.
“That’s not true.” Loid said quietly. Memories of his mother surfaced. “They keep us company, even if we can’t see them,” he might not remember her face anymore, but her scent still lingered, sweet like honey.
Some nights, her lullaby still brought him peace, even in those nightmares full of fragments of a cold wind biting at his skin and the gnawing hunger piercing his stomach.
Maybe it was the sentiment that pushed him to say this, but he knew it was true. “While you love and remember them," he continued, kneeling in front of the girls,"they never truly leave,” he pointed to Anya's chest. “They stay here."
Anya raised her hands, trying to wipe her face, and then she looked at him with red eyes and quivering lips. “I won’t forget.” she said, almost like a promise. And then, she frowned again. “But what if I want a hug?”
“They plan for that too.” Yor said warmly. “They make sure there are people who can give us hugs,” she sighed, feeling melancholic. “When my parents died, my brother and I had each other” she gave Anya a big smile. “And now, I have you.”
In a burst of energy, Anya hugged Yor; tiny arms wrapped around her torso, urgently affectionate. “I got you, Mama.” She reached her arm out, waiting for Loid to take it, he did. “And you too, Papa.”
Both parents smiled, both out of relief and fondness, after all it was a very cute moment.
Soon, Anya started rubbing her eyes, signalling it was time to sleep. Loid picked her up from Yor’s arms and carried her to her room. As he was tucking her in, he heard her saying in a small voice, barely reaching his ears. “I think” she paused to yawn “my mom made a good choice.” Then she was out like a light.
Loid stayed there, frozen, not knowing how to respond, not that he needed to. Still, what to say to that? He knew that this whole life was a lie, that sooner or later, this would end.
And yet, deep in his heart, he sincerely wished he could give Anya the happy life she deserved; and knew that he would do it, one way or another.
So, he answered. “I’ll do my best.”