Chapter Six: A Mother's Bond

Sisi woke up with a smile on her face and with the morning rays stroking her cheek. What a pleasant dream, Sisi thought as she stretched her arms to the heavens. When she turned to the end table next to the bed, she saw the steel cup that had contained the potion of youth.

The voices were quiet this morning. Sisi carried out her ritual by making breakfast, watching her shows and writing some novels. Each page she wrote was like writing a check to herself, and when she mailed the book to her publisher, she was cashing them in.

After finishing her latest novel “Die Trying 2: Don't Die Harder,” Sisi printed and bound the book. She sat up and made her way to the front door to mail it out. Before she could step out, someone knocked on her front door. Sisi checked the window to see who it was. Rabid fans were everywhere, and Sisi didn't have time to waste with them, especially if they were void of the essence she required.

“Sisi, I know you're in there!” said Cayden. Sisi ducked down before Cayden could see her.

“Why doesn't she want to see us?” said a little girl. Sisi's heart sank. She knew who it was, but she had never seen her face. Last she had seen her, she was still a newborn baby. Now, she was on her two feet and was talking—feats that marked her growth, feats that would captivate a parent's heart, feats that Sisi had missed.

“She's a mystery, Isabel,” said Cayden, now banging on the door.

Isabel. The name echoed inside Sisi's mind, the name rebounding as if trapped in a hollow chamber. Amid the tumult of her brain, The Third and Isis didn't help much. Isis commanded Sisi to ignore her lover and child, have them leave and forget about her. But The Third compelled her to open the door, to invite them for dinner and then to write her daughter's name on a book of life.

Or else, Sisi could abandon her road to immortality and turn into dust. Sisi shuddered. Her daughter's name droned on and on. So long as they were outside, there was no peace. Sisi screamed.

“Sisi!?” said Cayden from the other door. Cayden peeked through the window, shifted his angle and saw Sisi who had her palms against her ears.

“What's wrong, dad?” said Isabel.

He slammed his body against the door until it gave way. Sisi opened her eyes and was blinded momentarily by the light from outside. When she saw Isabel's glowing outline, the voices finally ceased.

“Are you okay?” asked Cayden, helping Sisi up from the floor. Sisi nodded. Isabel hid herself from the doorway, occasionally peeking and studying the woman who was supposed to be her mother.

“Are you sure? Looked like you were having an episode or something,” said Cayden. Sisi assured him that she was fine. She then changed the subject by offering Cayden and Isabel a home cooked meal—roast chicken that she had perfected recently.

Sisi and Cayden caught up with one another as they ate dinner. She learned that Cayden was a painter, and he boasted his earning from selling Pop Art masterpieces. When Sisi tried to converse with Isabel, Isabel would avert her gaze and pretend she didn't hear.

Sisi tried again. She asked how school was.

“Like you care,” Isabel finally responded, glaring back at Sisi.

“Isabel,” said Cayden staring down at her. Isabel stood up and walked away from the table.

As the day ended, Cayden and Isabel prepared to leave. Cayden went to the bathroom for the road. Isabel sat at the couch and was followed by Sisi. Sisi tried again to connect with her daughter.

“Well, if you really cared, then drop a line once in a while, will ya?” said Isabel in a scathing tone. When Cayden stepped out from the bathroom, Isabel jumped away from the couch and ran outside.

“Let's go, dad!” said Isabel.

“Kids,” said Cayden to Sisi, “We'll we see you again?”

Sisi nodded. She gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Sisi watched them walk away, and as they went further and further, Sisi felt a heaviness inside her heart. When they were out of sight, everything became lighter as if nothing happened.

Sisi closed the door and sighed. She wanted to cry it out, but her melancholy was cut short by a blood curdling scream coming from her bedroom.