banging on the door of an angel {reserved}

[✿ngela wingrose]

Angela was a mess.

Today had been a long day; she saw Charlotte just after noon and caught up with her. The mother of her ex-boyfriend casually invited her to come stay, and Angela thought it was very nice of her to offer. But then they started talking about other girls Tristan dated, and Angela's unsteady hormones got the best of her and she had to escape from the unfortunate topic.

She thought it best to go to her father's house, even though he wasn't expecting her for another couple hours. On her way over she calmed herself with bright thoughts of Charlotte and her house, and juggled the idea of actually accepting her offer, as well as entertaining memories from last summer. It was sunny. She reflected fondly on these thoughts despite the unfortunate tutoring she was expected to participate in. Sneaking out with Tristan and visiting his family was the most wonderful experience of her life. It was the family she always wanted; busy, loud, and happy. Angela loved the Dells, admired and envied their family, and wished for one of her own.

While she flew to Travis's, she smiled because she knew it wouldn't be long before she had something resembling them; a small family unit with her, Kennedy, and their child. It excited her, the mystery behind its gender and what gift it might inherit from its parents. Angela was impatient to see whose eyes her baby had, whose nose; the nostalgia was overwhelming and excusably beautiful.

She managed to calm herself with these happy thoughts of the future, but the first step to her father's door brought with it nerves. Understandable nerves: Travis wouldn't be very thrilled with her news, but if she could just get him to see how happy Kennedy made her, and how ready she was for a family, maybe he would accept it all. Optimistic yet scared out of her mind, Angela was invited to her eventual dismissal from the family.

Travis raged about Kennedy, his reputation, and discarded his daughter like a used tissue. A used tissue someone was very angry with. She fled her father's house and took a cab to the first place she knew she would be safe. Illinois was so far away, and she only brought so much cash with her. The closest place she could think of was Charlotte's. So here she was, exhausted, nerves frayed, and more than depressed.

Shoulders hunched, she accepted her bag from the driver and watched the sun disappear behind the roof of the house she stood outside of. It was an omen, telling her today wouldn't get any better. That her life would never be better. She was cast into eternal darkness where happiness was a myth and despair was holding her hand.

Not caring about her dissheveled appearance; tear-stained cheeks and knotted hair, or that she was wearing the same outfit Charlotte saw her in earlier that day (one of the biggest fashion sins she could commit), Angela dragged her feet as she approached the door. She hadn't called; her phone was in the bag in the back of the trunk, and she'd been too overrun with emotion to ask the driver to stop so she could retrieve it. Charlotte was probably in the middle of dinner right now, or just finishing, and Angela hoped she would understand.

She lifted her fist to knock, and was suddenly flooded with bittersweet memories of Tristan gesturing to the house from down the street, and Angela thinking it was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen. She wondered what it would be like, growing up in a community with houses so close together, with so many brothers, and a mother that cooked. She looked across the lawn and could envision herself holding Tristan's hand as he lead the way to the front door. She stepped aside to let the two images stand where she stood now, and she watched in her mind's eye as she patted her hair and smoothed out her dress, trembling anxiously. She could hear Tristan quietly assure her they'd love her, and moments later his promise bloomed to fruition.

The memory faded with Charlotte enveloping her in a giant hug. Angela closed her eyes, took a big breath, and knocked, wishing (and wishing she wasn't) that Tristan was next to her holding her hand.

[Tristan Marcus Dell]

The conversation was short.

“I saw Angela today.”
“…”
“She looked really good.”
“…”
“She’s going to be in town for a little while.”
“…”
“I told her she could stay here while she’s home.”
“…”
“She’ll be here in a couple of days.”
“…”
“Tristan?”
“I’ll be in the garage.”

And that was where he had been for the last three hours since he walked through the door and spoke to, or rather listened to his mother. He didn’t even come out when Amanda came by to pick up Landon. His reasoning, or at least the excuse he would give, was that he was too busy toying around with the Chevelle.

Charlotte thought about going in there to check on him, to ask him what was going through his head, but decided against it. He was an adult now. If he didn’t want to talk about it, she wasn’t going to make him talk. It was a big thing that he had sprung on him anyway, so she couldn’t blame him if he wanted some time by himself to process everything. Yes, this was her house, and yes, she would decide who was and wasn’t welcome in that house, but she couldn’t help but think that maybe she should have run this by Tristan first.

Luckily she would have a few days to work on him. At least that’s what she thought…

Charlotte had been in the kitchen chopping carrots when she heard the knock at the door. Amanda had called a half hour ago to say that she had forgotten Landon’s favorite blanket when she picked him up earlier, so Charlotte assumed that it was just her or Lucas stopping by to get her grandson’s fleece. When she hurried through the kitchen and across the living room to open the front door, Charlotte was definitely surprised to find Angela at her doorstep, not her oldest son or his fiancé.

“Angela!” she greeted, her shock evident. “I thought you weren’t coming for a few more days.” But then Charlotte got over her surprise when she noticed Angela’s ragged appearance. Her smudged makeup and her puffy eyes were a dead giveaway that something was wrong. “Oh gosh, are you alright? Honey, what happened? Here, come inside,” she worried. The mother in her took over right away as she took Angela by the wrist and pulled her into what she was hoping would be the comfort of the familiar home.

[✿ngela wingrose]

At Charlotte's surprise, Angela wished she could have mustered up a hug, an explanation, even a smile, but it was too difficult. She struggled to keep her breathing even, because the pure contradiction of Charlotte's unconditional warm welcome and Travis's frigid cold shoulder was ironic in direct comparison.

She let the loveable woman pull her inside, and she left her bag on the front steps. The model's shoulders shook as the aroma of fresh vegetables surrounded her and set in.

"Charlotte!" She exclaimed at last, and she threw her arms around her neck and buried her face in the woman's hair, "He hates me. He hates Kennedy. He hates our baby. He wants nothing to do with us!" Her words were muffled between sniffs and sobs. She was dissolving in the front hallway.

"I-I-I..." she started, but couldn't finish, and just burst into more tears. She hadn't thought she had any more to cry, but apparently she possessed an endless supply of waterworks.

[Tristan Marcus Dell]

If there was one thing in the world that hurt Charlotte more than anything it was seeing one of her children hurting. Angela may not have been Charlotte’s actual child, but over time she had come to love the girl as if she were her own daughter. There was, of course, that period of time where she tried her best to hate the young woman to pieces, but it just couldn’t happen. She had grown much too attached to her. As she pulled the sobbing Angela into her protective embrace, Charlotte’s heart was breaking a million times over.

“Oh, you poor thing,” she spoke softly to Angela, stroking her hair. Could her father really have said that? That he hated her and wanted nothing to do with her? Charlotte couldn’t possibly fathom how someone could speak words like that to their own child, especially to a girl as lovely as Angela. Sure, it had to have been a huge shock to Travis Sivart that his only daughter was pregnant at nineteen. Charlotte could understand why he might be disappointed and angry and embarrassed, but that he wanted nothing to do with her? The thought made Charlotte sick.

That was the thing about Charlotte Cooper – she had the incredible ability to love anyone and anything no matter what their faults and downfalls were. It was the sole reason why she hadn’t allowed herself to believe all the negative things she had said about Angela the past few months. She just didn’t have it in her to hate the girl, even if she did hurt her son.

She gave Angela a nurturing squeeze before she stepped back, still holding the girl tightly by the arms.

“Start over, Angela,” she requested, voice soft. “Tell me what happened.”

[✿ngela wingrose]

She was wretched, that's what she was. Angela was a swirling torrent of despair, and it seemed like everything she touched would just fall to pieces. Charlotte's warm, welcoming embrace was soothing, and soon Angela was able to calm her less-than-friendly thoughts toward herself. The woman's sympathy was well-received, and Angela would be eternally thankful of Charlotte's never-ending affection.

When Charlotte held her at arms length to look at her, Angela stared down at her feet. It took her a couples seconds of sniffling and big breaths, but eventually she was able to reply. She told the woman everything, from the moment she stepped into his office to the one she was running out the front door. Travis's harsh words were repeated with much difficulty, and Angela had to stop to collect herself every few moments as she tried to relay the emotional encounter between father and daughter.

"And the worst part of it is..." she didn't know what compelled her to say it, "...is that even though he's wrong, he's also right. Kennedy and I... things didn't start between us the way a usual... relationship should..." Angela wasn't sure how much Tristan told his mother. For all she knew, Charlotte was under the impression that Angela leapt in bed with Kennedy because Tristan wasn't able to reach her through the barrier. She might not know anything of the enchantment or brainwashing or whatever it was that compelled her to reach out to the boy that fateful night.

"He's not a bad boy," Angela insisted, and she knew this better than anyone. Kennedy was kind and passionate and understanding, and he loved her. He shed his reputation with his past, and he wanted a future with her, with a family. And Angela wanted it too. But without the blessings of her father, and with all her hot and cold emotions, Angela was experiencing her first feelings of doubt and uncertainty. Kennedy was no longer allowed at the school to teach - he might be a very gifted person but he had no job that would support them. And she didn't want to live with his family for the rest of her life, no matter how pleasant they were to her during her visit. And with Angela's condition, she was in no position to be modeling, which made her bank account wanting.

She looked as though she'd run a marathon.

"I'm really sorry to have just burst in here unannounced," Angela apologized, looking like the dismal mess she was, "you were probably in the middle of dinner," she added, trying to prompt Charlotte's memories of whatever it was she was doing before she arrived, "I uhm... I wouldn't mind freshening up a little?" She didn't want to suggest anything permanent. Angela was willing to look up hotel prices if Charlotte wasn't able to accomodate her on such short notice. She gestured down the hall where she knew the restroom would be located.

[Tristan Marcus Dell]

If Charlotte could, she would march right to Travis Sivart’s office and ask him what in the world was wrong with him, because clearly that man had some kind of problem. She would demand that he apologize to his daughter, who was one of the most darling girls Charlotte had ever met. She knew that that wasn’t her place, however, though if she were to ever come across the man in passing she would definitely give him a piece of her mind.

Charlotte wasn’t sure what to say when Angela brought up how she and this other boy hadn’t stated off their relationship the right way. Of course it was wrong – Angela had slept with this guy while she was in a long-term relationship with someone else. And not just anyone else – Charlotte’s son! A relationship like that was doomed from the start, but Charlotte wasn’t sure if she should tell Angela that. She wanted to say something along the lines of ‘I’m sure he’s a wonderful boy, Angela’, but she just couldn’t do it. Not when that said boy was part of the reason her son had been hurt.

“Don’t apologize, dear,” she told Angela, giving her shoulders an assuring squeeze. “So you showed up a little early, big deal. My offer still stands. Now go fix yourself up a little and please try to smile, okay? I’ll bring your bag in, then you can help me in the kit-“

It was only when Charlotte’s eyes drifted toward the kitchen that she saw the young man leaning in the archway that connected the kitchen and the living room. The young man who had just heard everything.

Tristan had come inside from the garage and was going to ask Charlotte what she was making for dinner. He heard her talking to someone in the front living room and stopped dead in his tracks when he saw just who his mother was talking to. He listened to her whole story and it was easy to say that he had never been more surprised in his life.

His ex-girlfriend who he hadn’t spoken to since last November was standing in his living room. And she was pregnant. He was frozen. Absolutely frozen, as was Charlotte, who was going to use the time that Angela was in the bathroom to warn him that she was there.

[✿ngela wingrose]

Angela nodded along with everything Charlotte told her, suggested, offered, until her sentence was cut short. The girl looked up and saw Charlotte looking at something over her shoulder, and despite knowing it wouldn't be good, she turned because her curiosity was stronger and faster than her will-power.

Tristan.

Her heart leapt to her throat and Angela had to swallow many times to try and push the knot away. The model was very aware of how horrible she looked, and even though she'd just been through the ordeal of a lifetime she couldn't help but feel self-conscious of her looks, even if Tristan wouldn't notice the worn look of her make-up, and the wrinkles creasing her once flirty summer ensemble.

How long was he standing there? Had Charlotte known? Surely not, her startled gaze proved as much. His blank expression didn't reveal much, and it made Angela anxious. The blonde shifted uncomfortable and looked back to Charlotte, feeling as out of place as a Trekkie at a Barbie convention.

"I..." she tried, but words failed to erradicate the awkward and unexpected from the situation. She motioned weakly down the hall again and shifted toward it, then before she disappeared down it, she shot Charlotte an uncertain glance. Would her offer still stand? Angela didn't think so. She nibbled her lip and said lamely, "I'll just be a minute," but they both knew that minute would stretch to something closer to ten. Her footsteps quieted as she distanced herself from the two in the living room, and she silently slipped into the washroom and locked the door behind her with a 'click'.

Then she promptly dissintigrated again, for much different reasons than her father's rejection.

[Tristan Marcus Dell]

Tristan watched silently as Angela crossed the room and hid away in the bathroom down the hall. He waited until he heard the unmistakable click of the lock before he paced over to his mother, who couldn’t help but feel guilty about something. Their chatter could probably be heard from inside Angela’s hideaway down the hall.

“I thought you said she wasn’t coming for a couple of days?”
“I didn’t think she was.”
“Well you could have warned me she was here.”
“I was going to, but then you came inside.”
“Is she alright?”
“Did she look alright? Stay here, I have a casserole to check on.”
“What am I supposed to do?”
“Talk to her.”
“Talk to her? About what?”
“I don’t know, Tristan. The weather, the stock market, the economy. You spent two years of your life with her – I’m sure you’ll come up with something.”

He watched as Charlotte disappeared into the kitchen, leaving him to clean up the mess that had just happened. He stood awkwardly in the middle of the living room, never feeling more uncomfortable in his own home. As he waited for Angela to emerge from the bathroom, he let everything that he had just learned in the last two minutes sink in. She was pregnant. Having a baby. With child. Expecting. It was weird enough a few months ago when he had learned that she was getting married (a fact that he never seemed to mention to his mother), but pregnant… that was a whole different level.

Tristan had changed a lot since Angela had seen him in November. He was more confident and laid back. There were hardly any traces of that awkward, stumbling, shy boy she had met so long ago. Six months may not have been a very long time, but Tristan just seemed so much older and more mature now. He spent more time with his other friends, not just Eve. He had even grown an inch taller since the last time they were together, which meant that he now stood at an even 6’3.

Tristan closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, running a hand though his hair. When his eyes fluttered open, he stared down the hallway and waited for the bathroom door to open.

[✿ngela wingrose]

But the door wouldn't open. Their conversation was just noise to Angela, whose ears seemed to filter out the majority of the words so the ones that were clear didn't make much sense on their own. The blonde was still huddled on the floor against the bathroom door, and it took a lot of will power and strength she didn't think she had to stand up.

Tristan would be able to hear the sink water run with interruptions to the water flow. Angela cleaned up her face, but her make-up bag was with her other things at the front door. So she resorted to a completely natural look. Tristan may have matured in their time apart, and Angela certainly had (in more ways than one), however at this moment she looked even younger than the day she met him.

She emerged from the washroom at long last, pushing a stray lock of hair out of her face. She was a normal girl, pretty but nothing stunning, and in the dull lighting of the hallway, the discolouration under her eyes was untreated by concealer or foundation. She was a tired teenager.

She saw Tristan there, looking unsure of himself, and Angela knew she looked just as hesitant. Who was supposed to break the silence first? Was there a standard protocol they were obligated to follow? All those glamour magazines she read talked about the ups in relationships; sex tips, guy's opinions, date ideas... they never covered what you should say to the boy you never forgot. So she improvised.

"I'm so sorry, I don't even know what I'm doing here, I feel so stupid, I shouldn't be here, I didn't mean to intrude," The words poured out of her before she could stop herself, "I didn't want to burst in unannounced," she became quite distressed, "I didn't even give you time to prepare. I didn't... I didn't..." there were so many things she didn't do. So many things she didn't mean or want.

Angela stared down at her feet and rubbed one of her eyes, looking even more childish. She was slouched over with the posture of a computer technician. She resembled nothing of the high-fashion model who starred on the cover of Vogue. She sucked in a breath, but didn't try speaking again. What more could she say?

[Tristan Marcus Dell]

Tristan was sure it had been hours that he had been standing there just waiting for Angela to emerge from the safety that was the downstairs bathroom. A million thoughts were swirling around his head. What am I supposed to say to her? Do I ask if she’s alright? I can’t believe she’s pregnant. Well, I kind of can. We can’t really talk about the stock market, can we? Did I turn the light off in the garage?

His thoughts were slowed down, however, when he heard the unmistakable unlocking sound and the bathroom door squeaking as it was opened. Tristan listened to her babbled apology without saying a work. He didn’t say anything for a few seconds after, either. He simply looked across the room at Angela, blinking a few times with his expression as untelling as it had been from the moment he first realized he was standing in his living room. She looked so broken. So fragile. Had things been different between them, so very different, he might have closed the distance between them, wrapped his arms around her, and told her everything was going to be fine just like he had so many times before. Not tonight, though.

“You uh, you don’t have to apologize,” he shrugged once he was able to find some kind of words to throw together, unknowingly echoing his mother from moments ago. The last time Angela apologized to him it was when she was telling him how she had completely forgotten he existed and had been with someone else. Definitely not a good memory. But that was a long time ago and Tristan, unlike some people he knew, had pretty much forgiven her. Or it was less that he had forgiven her and more that he just didn’t care any more. A lot of that had to do with one particular girl. A girl who completely made him forget about the heartache he had been through. A girl that he had been on the phone with for an hour before he walked from the garage to the living room and discovered Angela sobbing to his mother. A girl that he had just, not even twenty minutes ago, invited to spend a week with him on her summer vacation because he had really been missing her lately, even thought they weren’t together any more.

This shouldn’t be so awkward, Tristan knew. Sure, they had both burned each other in the past, but they had both moved on and were two adults who should be able to have a simple conversation, right? He looked from Angela to the couch in the living room and then back to Angela once more.

“Do you want to sit down and talk or anything?” he asked, his expression changing for the first time since he had seen her tonight. His emerald gaze held more life and he didn’t look like every ounce of emotion had been sucked out of him.

[✿ngela wingrose]

Angela hesitated, wondering if there was a right answer. Should she say yes and then torture them both with strained conversation? What other choice did she have? She couldn't excuse herself; there was no where to go but back to Charlotte, where the sweet woman, despite her good intentions... Angela assumed she would ask the difficult questions.

However, though Angela did have the desire to escape, she also had an unexplainable urge to be near Tristan. If she knew Tristan was still in close contact with the girl Charlotte admitted to liking right away, Angela probably wouldn't have accepted his suggestion. But that urge overpowered her desire to bolt and she shuffled forward awkwardly.

"Alright... yeah... yes," the broken model took special measures to avert her eyes as she slipped past Tristan into the living room. She used a couple seconds to choose a place to sit, and opted for the welcoming embrace of the couch. Her hands automatically folded in her lap, and her eyes never peeked higher than her thumbs.

She looked ashamed. She looked remorseful. She looked like she'd cheated on the love of her life, gotten pregnant and engaged, and tossed out of her family.

While Tristan might no longer be tormented over what she'd done, Angela was convinced she would never get over it. Time was supposed to heal; it was a time-honoured expression that lived on because of the truth behind it. But Angela wasn't healed. She had pretty band-aids like a fiance and a future child, and although powerful, they held a category in her heart that was completely different from the section she saved just for Tristan. It could be her hormones acting up again, or just being this close to Tristan, but it reminded her of how much they'd shared together and it made her want everything they lost.

It was a mistake, she wanted to say, it never should have happened. And it shouldn't have. Did she regret it? She had mixed feelings regarding that, but she had no doubts concerning whether it was right or wrong. Angela may be naive and stupid when it comes to school or rational thinking, but she has a strong sense of morality. Sometimes she would torture herself by asking if she would change it if she could. Stop herself from going to the kitchens that evening so Kennedy would never save her.

Angela wanted a family. She always had, and always would. She wouldn't trade her child for a second chance, not ever. That couldn't stop her from wondering though...

[Tristan Marcus Dell]

Tristan was just relieved that Angela didn’t say no and run away from him, heading right out the front door, which he noticed was still wide open from when his mother had first answered it. He watched Angela carefully sneak past him and take a seat on the couch before he took the few steps to the front door, picked up her belongings from the front step, and brought them inside, kicking the door closed behind him. He set her stuff down in the corner of the living room before he sat down in an old armchair that was facing her seat on the couch.

She wouldn’t even look at him, Tristan noticed. Why was that? Was she disgusted with him? Angry at him? Scared of him? He had no idea. He used to be able to read her so well, but right now he had no clue what was going through her mind. He sort of felt guilty, and that maybe he should have just left Angela to cry to his mother like she had been doing before he came into the room.

He thought that he would have a hard time finding something to say to her because, despite what Charlotte told him, he was not going to fill the silence with useless nonsense about the economy or the stock market. But then he remembered why she had even come to his house in the first place, and he realized that it was something that he just couldn’t ignore.

“So, you’re pregnant,” he spoke softly. It was the start of the first conversation that the two exes had had since they had last seen each other and Tristan had confessed that he couldn’t be her friend because he didn’t know how to, and because he couldn’t watch her be with someone who had everything that he had made the mistake of letting go of.

“That’s… weird.”

[✿ngela wingrose]

She didn't realize she was holding her breath until Tristan returned. During his short absense, she honestly did wonder if he would just leave, but when he came back with her things she scolded herself for thinking such a thing. Tristan hadn't changed as much as she had. Half expecting him to bolt was something she would have never thought of prior to their last conversation. The one where she asked if they could still be friends, and the one where she realized he would never forgive her.

His words, as quiet and as gentle as they were, cut her so she winced. But she nodded all the same; there was no use denying what she'd so openly admitted to his mother. She wondered if Tristan would have ever known, if Charlotte would have told him, if she hadn't blurted everything without guard.

"I'm pregnant," She should be getting used to the words. They'd sounded so natural when she told her fiance. But here, in this room, with this boy... it sounded wrong. False.

His additional comment merrited an unexpected pull of her lips. Weird. That was the word she was looking for. She nodded in agreement and her smile turned into an airless and slightly hysterical giggle.

"Weird... yeah..."

Angela then looked up, her face becoming visible as her hair fell back. Beyond the dark smudge under her right eye, and beyond the tired angle of her brow, there was something reminiscent to the girl Tristan used to know. Certainly the tears were familiar, but with those dried, they left behind pink, raw cheeks. Naive, a little spooked... it was like the common room on the first night they met, hiding from vampires.

"We uh... we decided we didn't want to know the gender..." she added and sat back a little, appearing maybe an inch more relaxed.

[Tristan Marcus Dell]

Every once and a while Tristan would catch himself wondering what it would be like when he saw Angela again. They couldn’t avoid each other forever, so it was bound to happen eventually. It was just a matter of when and where. He would wonder if he would see her on the street like he had the last time they spoke. Would she wander into the diner one day not knowing it belonged to his mother? Would she decide to show up to one of Eiji’s ludicrous parties that he had to force Tristan to attend sometimes (‘I swear to God if you’re not here in a half hour I’m coming to get you myself and I’ll key your car as soon as I pull in the driveway!’)? So many scenarios had played out in his head, but none of them involved Angela sitting across from him in his living room. That one had come as a shock to him, that was for sure.

But truth be told, he didn’t really mind.

He had always loved to make her laugh. There had always been something so gratifying in knowing that he had been the one to make her smile and make her day just a little brighter. It was no different tonight, and watching Angela go from looking like she was about to throw up to actually being able to look at him brought a smile to his own face. It was then that Tristan realized that he could definitely do this. That he could sit here and have a real conversation with Angela about whatever, and not feel like he was being tortured, even if he was talking about her being pregnant.

He thought back to a little while ago and to everything that she had told his mother. Though it had been a long time since he had done so, worrying about Angela was almost like second nature to him.

“Are you okay?” he asked her, not addressing her comment about the baby’s sex. “ I heard what you told my mom about your dad and stuff and… well I just want to know if you’re alright?”

[✿ngela wingrose]

It was almost as though things had never changed. Almost. The familiar comfort settled between them and his words didn't cut this time.

She nodded, "Yeah..." but she unable to keep up a charade and she glanced off to the side and away from Tristan, "...no," her knotted blonde hair didn't have any of its usual bounce as she slowly shook her head. Her eyes were drawn back to Tristan however, unable to stay away for long.

"I don't know... you know the sort of man he is... when I told him," Angela let out a humourless chuckle, "he was fine with it. The marriage, I mean," she touched a finger to her brow and settled all the way into the back of the couch. "He accepted the whole thing, but that was only because he thought I was marrying you." She watched him for his reaction. Would he think it was hilarious? Dumb? Foolish?

She stared at him, and despite their choice of conversation, it felt intimate. Like they were disclosing the latest, updating each other on what they each missed since their last encounter. Like old times. A simple phone call wouldn't do it; they had to see each other in person. Ice cream. Coffee. A surprise visit to her dorm. Tristan braved trains to see her. Was she being childish to wish for those old days?