Chapter 738

Chapter 738: Chapter 738 Sylvie’s Turn to Tell a Tale

“I guess if we’re all sharing then... Sylvie do you want to talk about your own tragic backstory?” asked Vivian. Kat froze at the question. *I... oh dear. I... hmm... shit.* Kat actually knew Sylvie’s ‘tragic backstory’ already and wasn’t terribly impressed with the flippant way Vivian asked. Finding her adoptive mother’s eyes though... Kat saw nothing but utmost serious within them. Despite how Vivian had asked, this wasn’t a joke. What Kat didn’t really was that her flippant way of asking was Vivian’s way of giving Sylvie an out. A simple joke in return would let her know the topic was not to be touched. Her eyes betrayed the seriousness of the question.

Kat missed this of course, and offered, “I can... I can tell Vivian and Callisto for you if you want Sylvie. You don’t have to be the one to do this.”

Sylvie wrapped Kat’s arms around herself and said, “No... no I want to do this. I... I think it’s good to tell everyone. I do not mind if they know and I think that maybe I should explain things. I guess... the first thing is that I obviously do have a bit of a sad past if I ended up in the orphanage. There’s no way to avoid such things for kids like us. Where to start though. A lot of what I know now was only obvious in hindsight, or looking back and piecing some things together.

“Well... I suppose I can start with my mother. She died in childbirth. At least, that’s what I was told. I have no reason to believe she didn’t, but I never saw like... death certificates or anything. I have however seen quite a lot of pictures of my mother and we look quite similar so I’m inclined to believe that she is dead and my mother. The exact cause of death... maybe it was childbirth, maybe not. I was a very early baby apparently, and that makes me wonder about things. See there are some... other things that I know about her that muddy things somewhat.

“Where to go next... well, I guess I’ll briefly touch on the fact that I was raised for most of my life by my grandparents, or arguably just my grandmother? We’ll get to that actually. So... my father. I know nothing about him. Grandma and Grandad didn’t like to talk about him, and his name isn’t on my birth certificate. I know. I checked. What I’m not sure about is why he isn’t listed.

“In hindsight, I’m able to recognise a few things from what Grandma didn’t talk about. I now know what rape is for example. It was covered in school a little bit. The possibility is certainly there... but I also got the feeling that Grandma only ever talked about mother when she was younger. Not super young, but younger. Oh, that’s another thing, my mother was forty-eight when she had me. Quite late, and she never married anyone before that.

“Grandma... I got the feeling she was always talking about mother from back when she was in her teenage years or in her younger adult life before avoiding the topics all together. From what little I know about her from the neighbours, when I got the chance to ask... my mother engaged in sexual relations with a large number of people and likely had at least on drug related habit she refused to break off.

.....

“I have no evidence to suggest she was a prostitute, but I do not know how else she made money. From what I can figure based on my memories, I think my mother had a... I believe it is called a ‘mid-life crisis’ very early in her life. Perhaps at thirty? She stopped working, or changed professions, started hanging around bad people and never got out of that hole really. If I had to guess, she was not technically a prostitute but I believe my mother found wealthy men to sleep with and let them pay for her bad habits. It’s why I wonder if it’s true to say she died in childbirth. I... I wonder if something else caught up to her before the end and they managed to save me.”

Sylvie was speaking rather robotically. She was not the most expressive child, but she did usually have some inflection into her voice. Sylvie was currently explaining her thought process with the same dry tone one would use to speak about the projected economic development of the town for the next quarter. It was clear that she was simply trying not to feel anything about the information so that she could get it all out into the world before breaking down. Kat didn’t notice it when her tail joined her arms and pulled Sylvie in as tightly as she dared. The fact Sylvie was carefully rubbing her thumb over Kat’s arm was just a coincidence of course. Kat didn’t need reassuring at all.

“My guesses into my mother’s life make it hard to know exactly why my father is not listed on my birth certificates or talked about. It is possible he found out she was pregnant and left her. It is possible she had sex with a number of people around the time she got pregnant and did not know who was the father. It is possible,” Sylvie trailed off slightly, licking her lips once. Twice. Three times. Kat squeezed the little girl slightly harder until Sylvie tapped Kat twice in quick succession to get her to let up. “It is possible... it is possible with what I guess of my mother’s drug or alcohol habits that she was drugged and raped, or simply indulged so much she didn’t remember.”

Sylvie shook her head ever so slightly to clear away that train of thought. “Regardless. For me there was no ‘Mum and Dad’ only ‘Grammy and Grampy’. Though... Grampa wasn’t able to stick around too long either. Well... he died when I was... six? I think? I can’t remember exactly if it was before or after my sixth birthday. It was a... a major effort. I didn’t realise it at the time either but Grampy was responsible for a lot of things.

“He did the cooking, the cleaning and made sure Grammy knew what was going on. Grammy mostly spent her time looking after me and telling me stories about my mother. Stories about how she used to like to draw, or the kid she thought was cute that used to live down the road. She talked about the time my mother got a bunch of kids together to throw buckets of water at their school teacher on the last day of primary school. All sorts of fun stories. I... I didn’t realise it then but Grammy’s memory was already quite bad. She wasn’t really making new ones.

“She knew who I was and she knew a lot about mother, but she didn’t actually know much about me. She’d pretend well enough I didn’t notice as a five year old, but looking back it was clear... it was clear her mind was going. When Grampy died though. I think she might have as well,” Sylvie shook her head again and gained a slightly thoughtful look. “Hmm... that might be unfair. Grammy tried when she could... I know she had some kind of dementia. Not which ones, the doctors wouldn’t explain it to me. Thought I couldn’t understand.

“I think she couldn’t form new memories properly for as long as I knew her. Grampy helped jog her memories with things. She could tell me stories because they happened a long time ago. That’s most of what she did. She knew how to keep me safe, like her own children. An old memory. She could tell me stories. Old memories. Yet... despite the big tv in the living room she never turned it on. Now that I look back at things. Considering how often we were in that room. I’m not sure she knew how. She certainly didn’t know where the remote was.

“Anyway. Grampy used to do things to remind her. Place the washing down nearby, in the same spot. We’d eat breakfast lunch and dinner on the hour without a second of difference. It was always the same thing as well. Er, same thing each month. Grampy had a set of meals he’d rotate through each day with it being the same every month. For months with thirty one days we got treats. I’m sure he did other things too I didn’t notice but...

“When Grampy died, he was... I think he was 102. He was VERY old. I didn’t understand how old that was really. He... looking back on it he’d aged very well, especially with all the housework he still did. One day. He just... he just didn’t wake up. I was very sad of course, but I had to hold it together for Grammy... but I don’t know if she was ever herself after that.”