The Free Woman's Cross

Galina wasn't a fan of hallways. Especially empty ones. They felt too closed in. It would literally only take two or three people to corner her. She didn't even want to be here, honestly. Under any other circumstance, she would be in the bar down the street, or knocking back bottles of vodka in a motel somewhere. And she probably would be, by the end of the night. But there was one thing she had to do first.

The door she'd knocked on creaked open and a frail, middle-aged, Latina woman peaked out, giving Galina the once over.

"Señora de la Cruz?" The woman screwed up her face, maybe at the clunky pronunciation, maybe at the total stranger who knew her name.

"Who are you?"

"My name is Galina. A…friend of your daughter's." Dammit, why was she making this harder than it needed to be?

"The one she went to Cancun with?"

"Yes, I…well…may I come inside?" The woman pulled the door open and invited her to sit. Mrs. de la Cruz stood across the coffee table from her.

"Charlotte said she would be back in a week. What happened?"

"About that. I'm…" Dammit "…Part of a humanitarian organization which Charlotte joined. She stayed with us for a few years."

Mrs. de la Cruz paced around the floor, running wrinkled hands through her hair and fretting.

"Where is she now? Is she okay? What was she doing? Why didn't she tell me-" Galina stood and held her hands, stilling her movement.

"Ma'am. Please sit. What I have to say will be difficult." She took a deep breath. Steeled herself.

"We were on a missions trip in Australia. While we were there, there was an earthquake. Charlotte was buried and presumed dead."

Charlotte's mother screamed.

"iDios mío!" Mrs. de la Cruz dropped from her chair to her knees, wailing in Spanish. "iMi bebé! iMi pequeño bebé!"

Galina cringed. What was she supposed to say? The truth? Another lie? A mix? Tell her when the funeral would be?

Ah, to Hell with it.

Galina knelt down, gently holding the woman's shoulders.

"Señora. Please believe me when I say I would give anything to not have to be here, now. I am sorry for your loss." She still cried, leaning into the stranger in her house. "But, for what it's worth, she died saving lives. I can't tell you how, but she gave her life for the lives of millions. Your daughter died a hero."

Charlotte's mother pulled away, laying her hands on her knees, head bowed. Collecting herself.

"And now, I have no daughter. Because of you."

Galina dropped her hands and fell silent. It was too true. Too raw.

"I want you out of my home."

Galina nodded and stood to leave. Halfway to the door, Mrs. de la Cruz spoke up.

"Prefiero una decepción viviente que un héroe muerto."

"I'm sorry," was all Galina could say. Mrs. de la Cruz waved her out the door and she left.

A.N.: the last Spanish phrase is "I would rather a living disappointment than a dead hero." There might be a part two, depending on the response this one gets.

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