UNSPOKEN - Ada Wong #02

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My Younger Self

Journal #02

I met my younger self for coffee this morning.

She was right on time, I was fashionably late. With easy confidence, I approached the table she had chosen, right in the corner where she could analyse the entire room. I didn’t mind having my back to the door, comfortable in my own skills and attuned senses in case danger broke out - as it often does.

Two cups of green tea sat before us because neither of us enjoyed coffee, one for her and one for me, and we both agreed the leaves tasted cheap. Ironically, her clothes looked cheap too in my detail-focused eyes; a red dress and makeup that mimicked elegance whilst not quite achieving it in the frayed stitching and easily smudged lipstick. My own attire was similar, but even the most fashion-blind could see the fabric was expensive and the lipstick top-shelf.

She hid probing questions behind flattery as we drank, using the same techniques I know so well to uncover the secrets of my life. I indulged carefully to her attentive ears, picking my words with practised care, and turning this cafe-catch-up into a game of verbal chess.

I was open about our accomplishments and did not shy away from the awful things we’ve seen and done to achieve them. She did not seem surprised to know we always accomplish our mission, nor did she react at the prospect of our ever-bloodied hands - her own stained crimson long before.

It wasn’t until I advised that our objective isn’t always the sole priority did she finally react. I assured that there’s room for selfless actions even when serving our own self-interest, and that someone truly good-natured would show us that. I could see that she thought it was a lie, even when it was the most honest thing I’d said, because until then life had taught her that everyone is inherently selfish.

We were both called away for jobs before our cups were empty. She stopped me by the door, the first signs of vulnerability in her stoicism, and asked if we got everything we desired. I answered honestly, “No, but we got very close.”

She left with an expression of grim acceptance, and I watched her go thinking about all the things I didn’t tell her - China, Simmons, Carla. She knew enough to guide her, and I knew she would figure the rest out herself.

Of course, there weren't two cups of tea, but one. There was no cafe, but merely my isolated apartment. And there was no version of my younger self, only the face in the mirror before me as I got ready for another job.

I think about that girl often. I think about that girl with a lifetime of experience at only twenty. I think about whether her choices would’ve been different knowing what I do now, and whether the guidance I never had would’ve changed anything.

And I always settle on the same answer.

She had to figure it out herself.

-A.W. :kiss:

#UNSPOKENMag

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