Part 2
"I said take a shot. I never said it would be free."
Do you know the difference
Between myself and my reflection
I just can't help but to wonder
Which of us do you love
Evanescence
An emotion remarkably like regret shines in Irina's eyes. "Sydney, about your father..."
She is silenced by her daughter's glare. "Don't. I won't listen to your excuses unless and until I have to."
"I'll just say this. If you're going to fight me, do it for your own reasons, not for some misplaced sense of revenge for Jack."
"Oh, trust me. I've got plenty of my own reasons to hate you." Sydney rolls her shoulders defensively.
"Fine. Take a shot," Irina proposes.
"Really, you're too kind," Sydney snipes, aiming a punch at her mother's jaw. Irina's arm comes up, blocking the blow.
She arches her brow and slowly, like a prowling cat, circles around Sydney. "I said take a shot. I never said it would be free." Her leg swiftly rises, her foot connecting with Sydney's side.
Sydney's eyes widen. So that's the way she wants to play it.
Their gazes connect, warring with each other. As the first strikes are thrown, each woman tries to ignore that she is fighting a mirror image of herself.
Sydney dangles her legs off the bed, watching her mother put on her makeup.
Daddy told me I'm gonna look just like you when I grow up.
She attempts to imitate her father's deep voice.
"Syd, you're the spitting image of your mommy." He said we had the same spirit.
The woman in the mirror smiles and inwardly hopes that her husband was wrong. She doesn't want her daughter to endure what she herself already has.
You and I are the same in a lot of ways. Where do you think you got to be so stubborn, huh, munchkin?
Sydney's anger pours out at the memory. She's not stubborn, she tells herself. She's not stubborn, she's right. There's a distinct difference. Trust her mother, the woman who has lied to her since infancy, to not know the difference between stubborn and right, or indeed between the truth and a lie.
Seeing Irina's head snap back after a particularly well-placed round kick, she thinks that her mother was right about one thing. This is more therapeutic than the punching bag any day.
"Sydney?" Irina asks as she blocks another blow. Her voice is relaxed, as if they were having tea rather than trying to fight each other into submission.
"What?" Sydney snaps. She grabs Irina's arm, twists slightly, and throws her over her shoulder. Irina nearly hits the ground, but in the last instant gets her feet back underneath her.
"I was wondering if you remember your first fight."
Sydney inclines her head slightly before dodging a punch. "Derek Watson. He stole my best friend's jump rope during recess."
Mommy, he's mean, and he made Stacey cry. He deserved it.
I know, baby. But there are a lot of mean people in the world, and they may try to hurt your friends, or even your family. You can't hit all of them.
A stubborn chin juts out as tears roll down the girl's smooth, rounded cheeks.
I can try.
The mother's hands reach out to wipe away the tears, trying to bring a smile to her daughter's face.
Well, at least you won.
"What did I tell you then?" Irina bends her arm and thrusts it straight out, hitting Sydney squarely in the chest, sending her sprawling.
Sydney hits the wall, dazed for a second but recollecting herself. "You said I couldn't hit all the mean people that tried to hurt those I loved."
"And here we are again. Deny it all you want, but you're trying to punish me for whatever evil you think I've done to Jack." As Sydney pushes herself off the wall, Irina sends a kick into her abdomen. She wipes sweat from her forehead. "I'm not surprised, really. Just one more lesson that you didn't pay attention to."
"I'd say it doesn't make sense to compare my best friend losing her favorite toy to my father nearly losing his life." Sydney grabs the fist that is headed toward her face, holding Irina's arm immobile while delivering a short-armed jab to her midsection. "Two gunshot wounds, one to the shoulder and one to the chest. The doctor in Russia told me he's lucky to be alive." She tightens her grip. "Obviously no thanks to you."
Irina frees her hand from Sydney’s grasp, her eyes glancing discreetly to the left. "I taught you something else about fighting that day. Do you remember what it was?"
Sydney sharply shakes her head. "Don't change the--"
"Sydney." A deep male voice resounds from the darkened entryway.
Sydney's head swivels around to the new voice. "Daddy?" she asks incredulously, her voice wavering.
Irina sweeps her foot under Sydney's legs. Sydney hits the floor on her back, breathing heavily.
Hands on her hips, Irina looks down at her daughter as Jack walks to join the two women. "Lesson number two: if you get distracted, you will lose."
Posted by Carrie on 03:01 AM