"Don't you dare use that word again to describe yourself. Any man worth his salt will never ask you to bend to his will, do you understand me Myra? Continue to be inflexible. Anyone who loves you will take that part of you and work with it, not against it."
It wasn't to say Alric hadn't tried to help Myra. He had. He was her father, after all. Yet there was this wall that Myra had built up regarding being entirely honest with Alric and Danger regarding how she felt and what had occurred. Revealing all the details and circumstances, how Blythe had not only attempted to force physical intimacy but when she had repeatedly attempted to rebuke his advances, he made her feel as if it was all her fault. Her
inflexibility. Finally, only stopped after her crying outburst as if it had pained him. Then Myra's self-reproach only grew worse.
Revealing the truth to her ma and pa would mean they would not heed her request to leave it be. To let it go. They would make Blythe pay, one way or another. Her ma's wrath would hold no bounds. It
would escalate—the blood on their hands. The example made to ensure
no one else would dare make the same mistake. Then the gossip, the holo tabloids, and the entire stupidity of Myra's choices blasted for all to see and hear.
For Makai to be out somewhere to read and see her at her lowest, her utter embarrassment at the choices she made plastered and on display for him to think the worst.
Where Myra could do her best to hide the truth from her adoptive parents, there was just something about Judah that made it so easy for him to get past her carefully constructed veneer. He had been there since the beginning as well, from the day that Danger had brought a scared little six-year-old girl to come to see the sea and her really good friend with a son named Makai, about a year or so older than her. Judah had been in Myra's life for every milestone, trading rotations with her parents when years of being in and out of hospital with a terminal disease meant sleepless nights washed in pain and the fear of the unknown, celebrated her successes and seen, first hand, just how head over heels in love she'd been with his son far earlier than Danger and Alric picked up. Maybe Judah was right. Like knew its kind, and Judah and Myra were two peas in a pod, tied by the love and affection born through years of that little girl being raised with his son almost as if she were his own.
Hearing Judah tell her all these things sent a crack through the dam. The weight of unspoken emotions pressed upon her chest like a leaden cloak. Her trembling fingers traced the stem of her wine glass as if they were the edges of her memories and heartache, a storm brewing behind her eyes. She wrestled with the echo of Blythe's haunting words, the gaslighting that left her questioning her very existence.
Anyone who loves you will take that part of you and work with it, not against it.
No, Judah... Not when I pushed Makai away. Not when he left because of me.
"Do you really think he's moved on, is that what you believe? I don't believe that's the case at all. He doesn't sail anymore, not for fun anyway. Barely surfs. Hardly ever just spends the day out at the ocean. He hasn't visited the Farm since you two fought, and I used to have drag him away from your parents place. All I see is a broken kid, listlessly sprawled on my couch, staring at the ceiling. Occasionally staring at his comm or datapad as if expecting something.
That's why I've forced him into many decisions. Its clear he's not thinking straight, that something is on his mind. Its like he's lost. That's why I've sent him away to survey the Pacanth Reach. I'm hoping some clarity may come in the form of solitude and hard work....yet I'm not even sure that's going to work."
Of course, he hasn't visited the Farm. Why would he? Why would he come back? Why would he bother? Myra's demons had a field advantage in this court. As for the commentary that Makai doesn't sail for fun or barely surfs was directly contradicted by the holo-book stories and Makai's messages showing an holopicture of him on some beach getting ready to surf or sailing with his University team.
Lost? Makai lost? No. Makai wasn't lost. Makai was running. He'd been running back when they were teens when he left Koa at the Farm and then went to Midvinter and Chiss space. He'd told her then in his note that he'd be leaving for
years.
I had to be the one to chase him down. Only to be told it was a mistake to come out there.
Growing anguish filled Myra, her lower lip trembling. Myra's heart felt like a tangled mess of unspoken apologies and unanswered questions, a melancholic melody of lost connections and shattered trust.
Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry.
"I'm not asking you to make a decision right now Myra. Mull it over. Weigh your wants versus desires....Just be confident in that decision. I can tell you now, at my age, I would have loved to had been given this opportunity. In my twenties? Not so much. I understand the need to pause."
Of course, Myra longed to reach out to Makai. To bridge the chasm that had grown between them, but the fear of rejection held her back, paralyzing her in a web of what-ifs. The thought of seeing Makai again and unraveling the misunderstandings between them tugged at her heartstrings. She yearned for closure, for a chance to mend the fragments of their fractured friendship.
Seconds ticked past, and that white knuckle grip held her empty wine glass so tight that she swore it would break. Each tick of the clock made Myra feel the weight of her anguish as it settled upon her shoulders. The tears that had welled up had nowhere else to go, cascading silently down her cheeks in an uncontrollable torrent.
Judah, a silent witness to her unraveling, would sense the tremors of her trembling shoulders, the weight of her emotions causing her delicate frame to cave inwards. Myra's facade crumbled with each shuddering breath, revealing the vulnerability she had fought to conceal. Each sob tore through the fragile facade she had fought so hard to maintain.
She felt utterly broken, lost in the whirlwind of emotions she couldn't contain anymore. She felt adrift in a tempest of unresolved feelings, lost amidst the fragments of a friendship she desperately wished to mend. In that moment of vulnerability, she allowed herself to embrace the rawness of her emotions, to feel the pain and confusion that had long been suppressed.
And cry. Oh, how she pitifully, heartwretchedly, she cried.