Inheritance, Part 2 - Lies

The wake was small.

That didn't really come as a surprise to Rowan though. Her dad's side of the family wasn't that large, and her mom's side was smaller still. At least she assumed so. Her mom's parents had apparently died even before her father had met her, and Rowan had never met anyone else from her side either. There might've been someone, Rowan supposed, but you couldn't invite people you didn't know existed.

As such, the funeral guests were their family friends, Rowan's best friends and whatever little family could make it. Nice and private. Her mom would have liked it, Rowan thought.

Nobody had known Rowan's mom had had magic. Not Rowan's dad, not his family, none of their friends. Her own family might've known—or at the least her parents—but that didn't exactly help. Not even Rowan had known, and she'd thought she knew everything about her mom. It was unsettling that there could be something this big she hadn't known.

She was also slightly worried about the fact that her mom had felt it necessary to keep something like this hidden. It didn't make sense to her. Magical powers weren't all that uncommon, especially in a big city like this. Sure, they weren't super common either, but that hardly mattered. Magic wasn't a secret. It wasn't illegal. So why lie about it? Why hide it?

What else in her life had been a lie? How much of Rowan's life was a lie?

She was hoping that something would turn up as they went through her mom's things, but there had been no such luck yet. Of course, they still had a bunch of old boxes in the attic to rummage through, so she hadn't given up yet. Maybe a secret diary or something, with all her mom's secrets, that would be convenient. A bit too convenient, the little skeptic in her head scoffed, but she hushed it, because there wasn't exactly much else she could trust on at this moment.

She looked over to her father. He looked down at her and gave her a tired smile. His eyes were puffy. So were hers, probably. He placed his hand around her shoulder and she leaned into him. The tears had run out much earlier, and now she just watched with empty eyes as the funeral ceremony went on.

Her mother had wanted to be cremated, and cremated she was. Rowan clutched the urn tighter as she sat down in the car. Her dad pulled out of the cemetery parking lot and started to drive them towards the restaurant for the luncheon.

She'd have to change schools, Rowan realized. Now that she had magic, she'd have to transfer to a magic school so she could learn to control her powers properly. She wasn't particularly looking forward to that, but at least the schools hadn't started yet after summer, so it was convenient timing. That is, if there ever was a convenient time for your mom dying. She had transferred schools once in the middle of a semester, and that had not been fun. Transferring to another school wasn't particularly fun in general though, and she wished more than anything that she wouldn't have to do it. Rather, she wished that that stupid driver had used his goddamn blinker and watched where he was driving. That way she'd still have her mom and not have to deal with sudden magic.

At least most people knew beforehand they were probably going to inherit magic. No such luck in Rowan's life, of course.

Well, if there was a silver lining in all of this, at least she lived in a big enough city that there was a school that taught courses on magic. Many smaller towns didn't, and the people in those places had to move to a completely new place on top of losing a family member. For most people it wasn't their moms though, but rather a grandparent or great grandparent, so Rowan got a misery point for that.

Magic was stupid, she thought. People who were the youngest in a magical family line were always so excited about the prospect of inheriting magic—which always moved down the line the person's decent as far as it could—that she sometimes wondered if they forgot that someone legitimately had to die for them to get that power? It was a bit gruesome, wasn't it? Sometimes that someone might even be your own child, if they had no children of their own and died after inheriting your parents. Like, "sorry your only child is dead, but here, have this neat skill to move thing with your mind as consolation!" As if that would be of any help.

Rowan sniffled. She held the urn closer.

Stupid magic.

"We're here," she heard her dad say, bringing her back to the present. They exited the car and walked into the restaurant. She stood to the side, still clutching the urn while he talked with the staff for a bit, and then they moved into the dining hall. She placed the urn down on a table at the back, next to a picture of her mom. She traced a finger along the glass. She turned away, before she had time to tear up again.

People came in an out, to pay their respects and their condolences, to eat and reminisce. Rowan's friends were there by her side, but they didn't say much. She didn't mind, the silence was plenty.

At some point during the afternoon a woman walked in. She was middle aged and well dressed. She looked somewhat familiar, but Rowan didn't recognize her, so she figured it was one of her dad's relatives or really old friends or something. The woman went to the back where the urn and the picture were and stood there for a long while. Rowan watched her, for lack of anything else to do. Her posture was tight, shoulders rigid and drawn back. Finally she turned away from the table and started to walk away. Rowan thought that she was about to leave altogether, but then she looked up and they locked eyes for a moment.

The woman paused.

She altered her course and approached Rowan and her dad. As she got closer he noticed her as well, but to Rowan's surprise it wasn't exactly recognition that was in his eyes.

"My condolences," the woman said when she got to them.

"Thank you," he said. There was a moment of silence. They both looked down. Rowan looked at the woman. She seemed uncomfortable. "So," her dad said then, "how did you know Felicia?"

"I beg your pardon?" the woman said. She seemed genuinely confused. He gestured vaguely at the back table. Her eyes darted to the picture and then back to his face. "You don't know who I am?"

"Um," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. He glanced down at Rowan, and the woman followed his line of sight. "I'm sorry, but, uh... no."

The woman looked between Rowan and her dad and tried to get something out of her mouth. It was opening and closing like a fish trying to breathe air.

"I can't believe..." she finally said. "She never even mentioned...?" She put her hand to her mouth and looked down for a while. Then she set her jaw, a look of determination passing over her features and she looked back up again.

"I'm Letitia, Felicia's twin sister."
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Hi I'm back.
Hi back, I'm Dad (that's ur topic, it's "dad")