Trust

It was a quiet, breezy afternoon. Marian was out in the park, sketching an open field on the northern edge with a bit of charcoal. She needed to get the sketches done for the butterfly garden before they could start construction.

She was avoiding being home.

Marian was no stranger to secrets and lies. Even her name, though it came so easily to her and sounded so fine, was as much a lie as anything else. She hid dreams and fears in locked notebooks. She had forged identities and costumes to keep eyes off of her true self. Nothing could be crueler than society, and without her reputation Marin felt as though she had very little. Therefore, it stood to reason, that she shouldn’t be bothered or surprised by the lies and secrets of others.

So why did Hana’s lie hurt so much?

Because you tell her everything, came the sound of Marian’s inner logic, unfortunately carrying Hana’s voice. You never kept secrets from her.
An old piece of advice from her Uncle Roku had been, “always tell someone your secrets.” She had every reason not to trust him on that, given his infamous reputation within the house, but she had taken the advice to heart anyway. There wasn’t a thing about Marian that Hana didn’t know. Perhaps that’s why she felt so blindsided by the whole ordeal.

“Miss?” rang the ever familiar tones of Hana’s voice.

Marian turned. Hana had come all the way out here to fetch her, it seemed. She watched Hana tuck a strand of hair behind her ear before undoing the action. She focused on Hana’s still broken glasses; on the beautiful blue eyes that matched Hana’s loose silk dress. On eyes that she had always sworn she could see the reflections of the stars.

She turned back to her work.

“Do you need something?” Marian asked. She tried not to wince at the curtness of her words; she hadn’t meant to be so harsh.
Marian’s hand stopped drawing when he heard Hana’s answer, “I have upset you.” Hana pulled up her dress so as not to stain it and got down on her knees. Marian turned and watched her bow. “I’m sorry,” she said.
“It’s fine,” Marian replied. She felt bad. She shouldn’t be so upset; it was just a silly lie.
Hana remained with her face towards the grass. “You said that earlier as well, but I don’t think you’re being honest with me.”

Marian let out a long sigh. Hana took that as her cue to sit up.

They locked eyes and Marian could see her own concern reflected in Hana’s otherwise passive composition. She knew it wouldn’t do to keep hiding how she felt; to keep hiding her worries and concerns.
“Was any of it real?” she asked, “You past, your mother, slavery….any of it?”
Hana brought a hand up to her chest and kept a grip on the silver locket she had always worn. It was rare to see emotion in Hana’s face, but even she couldn’t keep it locked up forever.
She spoke slowly, “part of it were,” she paused and moved her eyes down in thought- “-embelleshed.” She looked back down at Marian. “But the parts about my mother were true.”

Marian allowed Hana to continue, “we had very little. She had grown to be very sick. My father had never come home from work one day. My sister cried a lot with hunger. Mother didn’t feel like she had much of a choice at that point, I was the only hope she had to make things better.” She turned her eyes away again and moved her hand from the necklace to wipe at the corners of her eyes. Those memories still hurt her.
“That was true, and I hadn’t told anyone until you asked, Miss,” Hana reaffirmed.

While she still lacked the whole story, a weight had been lifted from Marian’s shoulders.

Marian set down her drawing tools and pulled Hana into a warm hug. Hana tried to hide her sniffles. She whispered small apologies laden with sorrow. Marian felt the sting of tears playing at her own eyes as the guilt crept in.

“It’s okay. I’m sorry too.”