Chapter 2
"Of course all excellent and beautiful things are to be praised." -Relena Darlian/Peacecraft
"What?!" was all I could say. Miliardo, Mother’s brother, was dead! How was I supposed to find a dead person? The impossible task placed before me seemed insurmountable. Why couldn’t my father just tell me about his past and the Gundams? It seemed useless though, as he shuffled through his desk drawers in a vain search. Finally, he pulled out an envelope.
"You may take this and whatever items you can carry. That is all. You have the whole summer to find each of these people and the answers you are searching for. If you make it back alive and can give me a proper explanation of what the Gundams are, then you may have the one thing your heart desires most. You may go to a public school for the rest of your high school years, without further question or doubt. This is the ultimate test: not only for you, but for your mother and I as ell. This is testing how well I’ve taught you to survive on your own and under impossible odds, and your mother has taught you about using your head. Good luck. The train leaves tomorrow at 10:00am in town. Don’t miss it,"
And with that, my father, the only man I had ever known, walked out of the room.
I spent the night in his study, never moving from that chair. Mother didn’t interrupt me once; I’m sure she already knew what was going on. At about five in the morning, just as dawn’s first rays of light came knocking at the window, it occurred to me that I hadn’t opened the envelope Father left. Sitting up, I watched it like a kitten does a piece of string, for what seemed an hour or more. Finally I decided that I should probably know what I had with me before I left, so I reached over and grabbed it up in my clammy hands. I say clammy because I was extremely anxious to see what was in it.
My fumbling fingers finally got the weather worn, manila flap open, and I dumped the contents onto the table. There was a loud thunk as the largest object hit the mahogany, and I looked to find the culprit. On the table before me lay an odd assortment of items. The noise maker was a large silver cross, beaten and scarred, with the initials DM on the back and GOD written below it. Along with that I found what I took to be a fencing saber tip, stained with blood. The shard was about two inches long, and I was amazed how light it was. Still, I moved on. Searching through the items, I found a minute clown doll of a boy, wearing half a mask. His face was the expression of the saddest clown I had ever seen, so I quickly put it down and picked up the next. This item puzzled me the most, and I couldn’t make heads or tail of it. It was a tiny Chinese tile, like you would find in a shrine, with the inscription for "Dragon" on it. Father had make it clear to Mother that I absolutely had to learn Chinese and Japanese when I was younger, so by this time I was well versed in these languages. The last object was my favorite, even though I couldn’t tell what it went to. I have it still. It was a white shard of metal with the inscription "ZM" on it, and the Japanese sign for Peace under it. This item I held onto for a long time, turning it over and over physically as well as mentally while I thought about it. Although I didn’t exactly know what it was, I felt a kinship with it, such as one does with a lucky penny. This was my lucky penny.
The other contents of the envelope were two hand written notes that I decided not to read, $100.00 in ten dollar bills, and a one way train ticket to some place called Cinq. Since I was obviously going, not so much spurred on by the hope of a public school but by my own curiosity, I made up my mind that the letters were for the train.
Glancing at my watch, I decided I should probably eat and get ready, since it was already eight o-clock. I know I had a ticket to go somewhere, but I didn’t know where to begin. As I moved through the house, my senses told me that Mother and Father were not there, and hasn’t been for quite some time. I ate my cereal in silence and made my way to my room. Then I realized that although I hadn’t left, my mission, had already begun. Two of the hardest tasks I would have to complete had to be done before my foot left the welcome mat. First of all, what should I bring? Father had given me instructions. Only what I could carry, whatever clothes I wore, and that envelope.
As I scanned my bare room, consisting of only a bed, dresser, and desk, my mind drifted to my conversation with him. ‘If you make it back alive...’ he had said. Alive? Why did he need to add such a frightening word to that statement? Did he not have faith in my abilities? Soon I decided that my trip would succeed. I was determined to prove him wrong. He had always taught me to never give up, and I planned to practice what he preached.
Although my anger had risen, I kept a level head, and decided that, should something happen to me, I should have some pictures of Mother and Father with me, in case I got lonely. Searching through my drawers, I found a picture I had taken of my parents. They were sitting on a park bench together, holding hands, oblivious to the world around them. They hadn’t even known I’d taken it, but I cherished it deeply. It was the one time I had actually seen Father show emotion towards her.
Opening a zip pocket on my khakis, I shoved it inside, along with the train ticket and money. Since I didn’t have many personal possessions, I went into my father’s study once more. Opening his top drawer with a paper clip (it was always locked), I pulled out the gun he kept there. Checking to make sure it was loaded, I placed it in a concealed holster on my leg. Boy, did that come in handy. But, not until later. I had known about that gun since I was allowed in my father’s study, about the same time he started training me. My first task was to open the drawer that held it. The only catch was that he didn’t have key for the complex lock that kept it safe. He gave me an hour. It was test to see if I was the right kind of person to be trained like he was. I opened the lock within five minutes. My training began. This time, opening the drawer was no different. But closing it caused me to cry for ten minutes.
Right before shutting it, I noticed a slip of paper in the place of the gun. Confused because Father never kept anything but his weapon and ammunition in that drawer, I picked it up and unfolded it. It was covered with a delicate handwriting I knew to be my mother’s. This is how it read:
"Dear Sarah,
Your father and I have been preparing for this moment since he began training you when you were five. I hoped this day would never come. I fear for your life, but I have confidence in you. You were trained by the best there is. And yet, you’ve retained your humanity, which, when undergoing that type of training, is very hard to do. Your father is just now getting some of his back. You have helped him so much it’s amazing. He learns from you as much as you learn from him, and I thank you for it. Thank you, my daughter. You’ve done something I’ve never been able to achieve in all my years with your father. Please, make it back home, with answers to your many, many questions, and help your father enjoy feelings again. You know that he is as proud of you as he possibly can be, and that no matter what, however he may act, he loves you. I love you. Remain our little girl forever, Sarah.
Good Luck Always,
Mother
Relena Darlian
I love you, honey
xoxo"
I then realized my position, and began to rethink my decision to go. I was leaving home to go find people I’d never met, and with only $100.00 and a train ticket. I had to find my Uncle, Zechs Merquise or Miliardo Peacecraft, who was presumably dead. My chances were not good. To add to that, I had never left the house before to go a long distance. I had been in the woods for survival training and such, but I hadn’t ever left to go to town. We had our groceries and necessities delivered to the house. Mother went to town sometimes, but not often. She said she was sick of being around people. I always wondered why.
‘No,’ I decided. I was not going to chicken out. I was going to find these people and my uncle, and accurately answer my question for Father.
Continuing with the first hardest task, I found a paper and pen and wrote a quick note to my parents. It simply said, "I love you. I’ll be home soon," I left it on the dining room table, where I knew they would find it. Then I got my coat and stood in front of the door, thinking over everything I was bringing with me. Did I forget anything? ‘No, no, I didn’t,’ I thought.
The second hardest task hit me, almost causing me to urn back. I had to leave. My parents were the only people I had eve known; I hadn’t ever seen other people. What did they look like? How did they act? Would they accept me? All of those questions and more drove through my head, causing the world around me to spin. Grasping the staircase banister, I steadied myself.
I plopped down on the bottom marble stair and for the last time rethought my decision. "No!" I shouted at the top of my lungs. "No! I’m not going to let this beat me!"
I wish I had been as confident as I sounded, which, in itself, was dripping with doubt. I decided that I wasn’t going to dwell on it anymore; if I didn’t think about it, then I wouldn’t come up with objections. I took one last look about the house, then reached for the door handle, pulling the door open.
I took one step out, feeling the cushiness of the welcome mat through my tennis shoes. I stood on the step, inhaling the aromas of Spring. Budding apple trees, pollen circulating throughout the area, tress swaying in the slight breeze. I took another step. One step closer to coming home, yet one farther away from it. If I could make one more foot appear between the house and myself, I would make it, without doubt. I took another step. There was no turning back.
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