She looked longing out of the window, to the shelter of the forest, before answering to the party of 3 she was standing with. “Cyra is Persian. Pronounced as seera. It’s not Sarah.” Having explained it the nth time that evening. She rolled her eyes she went to get some water.
Cyra Hated being called Sarah, which was an everyday occurrence since everybody was fixated on how unusual her name was. Funny how people are so unaccepting towards the unordinary. Preferring for things to be categorized in neat little boxes, perfectly labeled so they can wrap their heads around it. Anything out of those boxes is often frowned upon.
The evening was crowed with such people at her mother’s party. It was supposed to be a welcome back party in honour of her moving back after college. In a town she grew up in, and people who knew her as a child, and still couldn’t get her name right! She thought shaking her head as she took a bottle out of the fridge and took a sip.
She was putting the bottle back when she heard her name “Sarah” from the hallway next to kitchen. Brows furrowed, she was about to go out and give them a piece of her mind when she heard her father’s name next. Cyra froze.
“It’s a pity about Miles, Sarah still doesn’t know?” She heard an older women inquire.
“And it would be appreciated if you don’t mention his name Nana, the family doesn’t like to talk about him. Please Nana, don’t bring it up okay?” Came a much younger female voice.
“Alright alright I won’t. Come along now I want to see the girl.” The older woman spoke again. Footsteps could be heard, leading away to the living room. Cyra released a breath she didn’t know she was holding. What was going on? Ever since she came back to her hometown, she was restless. The town and its people were a constant reminder of what happened 5 years ago. She remembered it vividly like it happened yesterday.
It was a warm night, she was sitting on the steps of the porch, on call with a friend, gossiping about school when her dad walked out and gestured to get her attention. She figured he needed to use the landline, she was told she used phone too much. Bidding her friend goodnight, Cyra clicked the phone off and offered it to him, But he shook his head. She looked at him questioningly. It was like she was looking at her dad for the first time in a while. He looked older, worry lines defining his face. The changes only looked visible now. How come she never notices them last week? She snapped back from her trance when he called her name.
“Cyra, honey I need you to back your things, your coming with me.” There was an urgency in his voice that was so unlike him. Her always calm and composed father, looked troubled. Her instincts started giving warning bells loud enough for yet next town to hear. A hundred questions that popped in her head.
“Why? And where?” She furrowed her brow.
“Anywhere, away from here. You’re coming with me. I can’t leave you alone in this house with her.”
“Wait, who? Mum? Dad you’re really confusing me what’s going on? I won’t go anywhere till you give me answers”. She crossed her arms across her chest.
Mr Davis was about to open his mouth when they both heard voices coming from inside the house.
“Listen Cyra, pack a bag. I will pick you up tomorrow. Okay honey, I have to go now.”
With that he got into his car and reversed it out of the drive way. She couldn’t help shake the feeling that it was the last time she was watching him back out their driveway. She stood there for quiet a while after he was gone. Anxieties seeping in, trying to go over every possible situation. Shaking off that uneasy feeling, she decided to go inside. Her mother and sisters were in the living room hurdled together. Ignoring them, she ran up 3 stairs at a time and locked her room.
An hour later, with all her things packed she got into bed. Waiting for the first light. Wanda knocked on her door asking about dinner but she just didn’t feel hungry. Lying in bed Cyra couldn’t help going over the possibilities of what could have gone wrong. She tossed and turned till sleep finally took her. The next day found her pacing in her room, waiting for her dad. But the afternoon turned into evening and he didn’t come. She rushed to her window on every sound. The light gave way to darkness and still no sign of him. She spent the next day in the same fashion but her father never came. Neither did he come the next day, or the next. After a whole week of living in denial, she resigned herself to believe he was never going to come for her. Slowly, resentfully she unpacked her things and quietly went downstairs for dinner.
That was 5 years ago. Miles Davis was never heard from again. Coming back to the present, Cyra frowned. There was something going on, something she didn’t know. First the strange call the other day, now these whispers.
Leaning against the fridge she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Pasting a smile on her face, Cyra prepped herself to go back into the social circus of her living room. Determined to find out more.