2.
Reading between the lines.
After their dinner had been finished and cleaned up, Faline curled up in the window-seat overlooking the lane while Sophie worked on her knitting. Because there was nothing that needed to be said, both enjoyed the silence. While the wood in the fireplace crackled, Faline turned her beloved book over in her hands several times before opening it to a random page and began to read.
Faline was constantly trying to decipher the hidden meanings of the words written in the precious book. More than once she had been told she was obsessed but she couldn't help it. This book was the only connection she had to the beginning of her life. It was a journal of some sort, heavy parchment pages bound between a worn leather cover. How many times had she wondered who owned this book before she did? Whose elegant handwriting graced the pages? Why had it been wrapped up with her in an old blanket the day someone left her as an infant in the candle vestibule of a church? Some pages contained paragraph upon paragraph of descriptive landscapes and towns. Some pages had barely a sentence written. These were usually brief bits about the weather or the tide. Other entries read as baffling riddles. Some pages in between others were mysteriously blank.
For the most part the journal had been penned in English, however the writings would randomly change languages. And how the languages varied. So far she had determined the author to be fluent in not only English, but also Latin, Spanish, Greek, French, Russian, Italian, German and Dutch. Here and there would be a smattering of Portuguese or Egyptian; Mandarin then Thai. Not enough for her to believe the author used those dialects fully, but that she or he had a great deal of understanding for them.
So many languages. Even the English sections were never consistent. They would switch between modern English spoken today, and then an Old World variation. And then there were the bits written in the languages that fascinated her most. Parts of the journal were written entirely in traditional Gaelic and Icelandic. Faline was certain the excerpts written in those languages were the most important not only in the journal, but also to her life. She had no evidence to prove this, she just knew that she simply felt it to be so whenever she translated the cryptic verses.
And translate them she did. Faline absorbed foreign languages as easily as she breathed air. She partly knew the reason for this was because Sophie began speaking to her in French when she was just seven years old. The other reason was specifically the book she held in her hands. As a little girl in the orphanage, Faline began devouring the book as soon as she learned her ABC's. Her eyes and mind always skimmed over the foreign excepts until she met Sophie and not realized she could learn to speak other languages, but read them as well. She knew her appetite for foreign languages was fueled by her desire to translate the journal in full, but that didn't detract from her innate love for all languages. After high school she soared through the Linguistics program at a college that she paid for with scholarships, by working in the campus bookstore, and of course with the help of Sophie. While they always lived a humble life, Sophie insisted the Faline's education came first, and did everything she could to ensure she was successful in achieving her educational goals.
When Faline graduated college, Sophie was certain she would want to continue to pursue a Masters or even Doctorate degree but Faline had other ideas. While she loved learning about languages, she desired to immerse herself in them fully. She'd wanted to travel. So, with Sophie's blessing, Faline spent most of the ten years following her graduation traveling Europe. She began in Saint-Etienne, France, where Sophie accompanied her for a short time while she found a job in a local café and also a room to rent. This was Sophie's home-town, and while Sophie worried for her Faline as she traveled, she knew this would be place she was comfortable with setting her free to explore the world. Faline would usually stay in a city for a few months where she would find work and study as much of the people and history of the place as she could. Then, when she had saved up train fare and enough money to secure a room in a new place, off she would go. For this reason, she always traveled light and never accumulated possessions. She thought back on her childhood and figured all she started this life with was a blanket and the book and she felt that was all she would ever need. Otherwise, she would find a way to survive.
Once a year, no matter where she was, Sophie would mail her an airplane ticket to return home for the holidays. When she was younger, she would only stay for Christmas and New Years, and could never wait to return overseas. As she aged, however, her visits home stretched longer and longer. Sophie was aging and while Faline itched to roam other countries, she was also equally as content to spend as much time with Sophie in the only home she had ever truly had, with the only family she had ever known. This was why even at her age, she never yearned for an apartment of her own the way other young girls might. Faline had spent enough of her early life feeling as alone in her heart as she could possibly be. Until the day that Sophie changed all of that. No, Faline knew better than most that home was a matter of who you loved, and not what you owned.
She now worried for Sophie's health, how she was still running the bookstore alone after all these years. A deep sense of commitment haunted Faline that for the first time in almost a decade, she considered not returning overseas at all this year. Seeing as it already was February, Faline had no intentions of going anywhere until it was at least springtime. In her book she glanced over a passage written in Russian, depicting a snowstorm. She frowned as she began to feel the onset of a headache, and it caused her to put down the journal to briefly cover her eyes.
From her chair by the fire, Sophie noticed and dropped her needles in her lap. "In pain, are you?"
Lowering her hands, Faline returned her gaze to the street below her with a slight nod. "It'll pass."
Sophie sighed, not understanding why Faline always dismissed her own pain, as if it meant nothing. She rose from her chair and came to sit beside Faline on the bench seat below the large window. "You know what this means. How long has it been now? Since the last time?"
Without looking away from the window, Faline answered, "Almost two years. The last time was in London."
Sophie patted her hand knowingly, "I'll make you a nice hot cup of tea."
At this, Faline turned her eyes to Sophie, "It won't help. Or stop it."
Sophie nodded, as she was already rising to set the kettle to boil. "I know. But it will make us both feel better until then."
Once Sophie was in the kitchen, Faline drew her legs up to her and wrapped her arms around them, burying her head for a moment against her knees. She dreaded what she couldn't avoid. Every now and again, Faline got these ... feelings. Her mind would become awash with sights and sounds which were a portend to some future event. The worst part was that she couldn't always discern what was coming, she just knew it would be bad. It always began with this tell-tale headache, and without doubt, within days something horrible would happen.
Like she told Sophie, it was two summers before that she last experienced this. That time ended with her getting mugged on her walk home from the café where she was working at the time. Luckily the thief had only taken her tips, leaving her bruised and nothing more. Over the last few years, it seemed that whenever she got this feeling, that someone was after her. She didn't know why it happened, and hated the feeling of helplessness it evoked. She just hoped that this time she would be as fortunate as she always inexplicably was, and come through it unscathed once more.
* * *
