Short Story
A Return To Ygfold
As Eveline made her way across the uneven road and crinkled pavement, an ugly feeling bubbled inside her chest. Perched on her oversized peacock mount, she glanced at the myriad of empty smiles, villagers coming out of their houses one by one to ogle at the newcomer—or in her case, the prodigal daughter returning home for the first time. Friendly salutations and practiced greetings were thrown her way as the crowd took in her attire, The Academy’s crest glimmering against the deep hues of her academy robes. They knew what her clothing signified, and their reactions morphed to charm someone of her status. For some, returning home triumphant and successful in their careers, in their lives, would be something to bask in. But Eveline only had one goal in mind.
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Several days prior, Eveline left home to journey back to the village in Ygfold where she was raised for the first time since she left for The Capital. She had a house there where she once lived with her father, but she could never call it home. Truthfully, she thought she would never return after her initial departure. Unlike her lover, Yverne, she had no attachment to this place— no other friends or family she wished to see. The villagers who had once scorned her with their snide remarks and judgmental glances now welcomed her with open arms after her success in becoming a scholar, a medic– a mage– studying and working at The Capital’s most prestigious academy. These were the same folks who spread rumors about the pitiful child that lived in the downtrodden house at the edge of the forest. The house with the leaky straw roof and cracked door frame, and the family with the mother who skipped town after giving birth and the father, a recluse who never once showed his face in town. These were the people who isolated her family and kept their children away from her, her only interactions being with the orphans without ignorant parents, like Yverne.
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As the packed row of houses started to thin out, Eveline felt a wave of uneasiness wash over her. She slowed herself while continuing down the road and began to fiddle with her emerald ring, fingers running across dents of the engraving. The ring was a part of a two-piece jewelry set that her mother had left behind, the ring now belonging to her, and the necklace to Yverne. Down the unkempt path she went, kicking random luminescent fragments of what she now recognized as colored glass and not the rare gemstones she imagined as a child. This trekfelt never-ending, and Eveline began to ponder what to say. Growing up with her father was never easy and their relationship could hardly be considered close. She always blamed his eccentric ways for how difficult her life was and attributed this to why she believed her mother left them behind, even if she had no way of truly knowing. Eveline's mind flipped back to a normal day in her youth, remembering what the days were like back then.
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She was on her way home, another day spent on her own from start to finish. Eveline woke herself up that morning, as she always did. Rarely did her father even try to help her up. At least, there was always produce dropped off at home, and food lining the cupboards— something to grab as she made her way to school. Schooldays were always the same: alone in the courtyard, alone in the library, and alone at the temple as she furiously studied her way towards the chance at a better future. There wasn’t anything special about that day, but she hoped maybe there could be a glimpse of change. Yet when she approached the front yard, a pile of unclaimed parcelsand a stack of letters greeted her. Once again, the day was ending, and it seemed her father hadn’t even tried to get out of bed.
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Furious, Eveline grabbed at the assortment of things piling at their door and made her way into her father’s room dropping them all at the foot of his bed. As she stormed in, she stepped over the jumble of crumpled manuscripts and unopened letters scattered across the floor before abruptly retreating towards the privacy of her bedroom, avoiding whatever excuse her father was going to make for his daily laziness. No wonder the villagers avoided them. As if holing himself up in his bedroom all the time wasn’t strange enough, her father was also a writer, a seemingly normal profession, but an odd occupation in a place where the rest of the able-bodied adults worked in the fields, pollinating Ygfold’s tomato trees.. Eveline remembers yearning for escape, for change, for the opportunity to free herself from this monotonous life. Leaving this town, forgetting her father, becoming a nameless face in the sea of people, and finding love in the only person back home who treated her like normal was a far-off fantasy for Eveline. Yet this fantasy came true once she left for The Capital.
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Life in The Capital was a fresh start. Between adjusting to her new curriculum and going on romantic new adventures of her own, there was never a dull moment for Eveline. Attending classesat The Academy was a welcomed grind, and the hours she put in paid off. Excelling at her general studies led Eveline to explore a more specialized field in magicand medicine. In the past few months, she had delved into the study of mental health, a medical field with limited understanding, but sparked an air of familiarity within her. It wasn’t laziness, and it wasn’t a lack of effort, but there was genuine proof of a disorder that could affect day-to-day lives—not something that could be simply ignored and willed away. These studies Eveline found explored the possibilities of outside factors affecting the way people thought, felt, acted, and with the help of magic, maybe there were answers.
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The further Eveline delved into her research, the less she could ignore the reminiscent signs. She began to recognize what this sparked in her. Eveline found herself remembering her father back home, and his own unexplainable habits. Had she ever considered why it was so difficult for her father to do everyday tasks? At the end of the day, he still supported their small family in his own way, and maybe that was him trying his best, despite her dismissive nature. Even now, she had her own pile of unopened letters from him, signifying his persistent concern for her well-being. Maybe this realization was what she needed to push her towards making amends.
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Eveline's musings finally came to a stop as she herself stopped at the end of the path. Just up ahead, she could spot the front of her old house. Nothing seemed to have changed—the windows were still shrouded by the same teal drapes, the straw rooftop still badly patched up, the front door still scratched with marks left by the village kids and their sticks and stones, when their words couldn’t hurt her, the brass doorknob still loosely screwed on with lock broken, and an emblem of the Jellyfish Spirit, nailed into the wood. Just as she recalled, the bell hanging above the door was missing the little ringer inside, unable to signal her arrival. Eveline paused to fiddle with her bags for a moment before unmounting herself from her peacock. With a few deep breaths, in and out, her feet began to drag her across the familiar front yard. Before her final pause, she took in her surroundings. Suddenly she noticed the vibrant color of the grass, freshly cut, as well as the unfamiliar new steps leading up the porch. It was subtle, but the few changes indicated that maybe she wasn’t the only one to change these past few years. As she brought her hand up to knock, the door creaked open, slightly ajar. Her goal was just on the other side.
Eveline
Today was the day, he thought, or actually, maybe it’ll be tomorrow. At times, the days all blurred together for Eveline's father. It seemed silly to be this nervous, or maybe excited, he felt, over the idea of his daughter coming home. When he first received his latest letter from Yverne updating him on his daughter’s wellbeing, he was astonished to hear that Eveline was coming home. Counting down the days on his calendar, her arrival couldn’t come sooner. In just a handful of years, so many things had changed. The biggest thing would likely be the expansion of their small village. More homes meant more people, more people meant more jobs, and more jobs meant the introduction of a new clericin town—one with more experience than their local physician and the ability to diagnose and help with his own health problems.
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Eveline's father always knew that he wasn’t quite living a happy and fulfilled life, but raising Eveline in their small home was enough for him, at least, back then. He knew Eveline wasn’t ecstatic with how things were, but didn’t realize how much she hated it until she left home. A part of him thought that being a parent meant providing a home, an education, and food on the table was enough, but it’s easy to see now, the errors of this mentality. He wasn’t always like this, though. He was a different man, before he came to this village, before he got married, before his wife left him. Yet being abandoned so suddenly, by the person he gave his “I do”, left behind a shocking weight and constant fear of getting burned again. It wasn’t just his abandonment weighing him down. In a small town like theirs, rumors spread fast, and it wasn’t long before the rest of the villagers all heard the story of his wife leaving her family, barely a year after giving birth, leaving him behind.
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In the first few months, he tried to keep up appearances. He still went out every day, Eveline swaddled safely in his arms, to the marketplace to buy fresh produce, goods, and supplies, whatever needed to go about their daily life. But it wasn’t easy. He could feel the stares, hear the whispers, all to the point where he could picture the faces of the villagers, imagine their gazes when he closed his eyes. There was no escape. They were everywhere, he thought. And these intrusive thoughts only ceased droning on once he stopped facing the source of his woes.
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As the first few years of Eveline's life flew by, her father figured out a routine for himself to sustain them from the comforts of his own home. Home was safe. The barriers of the four walls blocked him from the cruelties of the world. It was easy to adjust by having food and necessities delivered to his porch and having his work picked up and sent to the publishers, correspondence via messenger birdonly. It wasn’t until Eveline began to mature that her father started to become more overwhelmed with their day-to-day life.
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As Eveline got older, her appearance and mannerisms started to resemble her mother. At first, it was the clear cut physical traits– the color of her eyes, the slightly pointed ears. But soon, from the way her eyes crinkled when she laughed to the unruly curls of her bedhead, there started to be a constant reminder of what Eveline's father was escaping in the first place. As his turmoil continued, he found himself avoiding his own daughter. At times, he couldn’t bear the thought of even being in the same space and found more comfort staying in his bed under his covers. The dread of facing her outweighed his need for anything else. He hadn’t realized how actively he was pushing her away until one day, she finally left, no words exchanged. Eveline's father knew she didn’t want to keep in touch, and his only solace was that the orphan girl, Yverne, would update him, out of pity, of course.
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Things are different now, though, and he was ready to work towards mending things. Thanks to his new cleric, he learned more about the problems he was facing mentally and took active steps to change. Therapy, for starters, and some medication helped him come a long way, and he was regularly taking short walks around the house, even tending to the front yard, and doing simple renovations. As he fixated on his past growth, someone walking up the front porch pulled him out of his thoughts, sound reaching his turned back as he worked on preparing a simple bowl of tomatoes.
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At the creaking of the front door, he heard his own raspy voice say, “Come in. Leave your things in your room.”
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There was a long stretch of silence, almost unnerving, before heavy footsteps made their way down the hall away from the entranceway and kitchen. He felt a swirl of emotions wafting through him. First, a pang of embarrassment. After all these years, that was what he chose to say? He made a complete fool of himself, and he couldn’t even imagine what Eveline must have thought at the moment. Second, a sense of regret. First impressions matter, and he couldn’t take this one back. What if she thought he was too cold? Maybe he shouldn’t have said anything at all. And third, a feeling of dread. There was nothing stopping her from turning around and leaving. Eveline's father ruined everything.
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His spiral was silent but powerful as the voices in his head started to ring. Yet, it was the sensation of the cold fruit under his fingers and the weight of the bowl in hand that started to ground him. Eyes roaming across the scene in front of him, he remembered the advice of his clericand started to slowly take in his surroundings, easing his way back into reality. The fruit, bowl, he reminded himself, was for the two of them to eat as they talked. There was no way of knowing what Eveline really thought until they spoke. He repeated this reminder as he too made his way down the hall towards her bedroom.
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Greeted by the light flooding under the door that was slightly ajar, Eveline's father pushed the door open with his feet, hands full with the bowl. The sight he was met with filled him with nostalgia—Eveline sitting at her desk, lamp dimly lit with her belongings strewn across the freshly cleaned bedsheets. The only thing different was Eveline herself. Gone was the little girl who stayed out after curfew, only to be found near the Temple’s orphanage. Now she was a young woman, looking even more like her mother than before, yet so very different, he realized. Yes, her wavy chestnut hair and deep viridian eyes resembled her mother’s more with each passing day. But as Eveline's father watched her flip through an old book, he recognized the way her eyebrows furrowed, the wrinkling of her nose when she focused, and nervous tapping of her knee to mirror his own habits. Things that stayed even after all these years.
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Eveline's eyes met her father’s, and it was clear to him that her words weren’t quite reaching past the tip of her tongue either. They both had things to work through, stories to tell, apologies to say, yet they both were obviously struggling to express these thoughts. And then it came to him. The things he could have done, the words he could have said, in the past, at the door, and even now. Eveline's father took a step into her room and sat on the empty stool next to her. He then turned to her, offer in hand, and said,
“I brought you some tomatoes.”