The girl with her head in the clouds (Part 3) (Five minutes freewrite)

Later on they'd blame themselves for not noticing the subtle changes, the slow disappearance of Melissa from their lives. It was not something physical - there was nothing ailing her, she did not grow thin or pale, she grew invisible. They rarely saw her throughout the day, but it was always assumed she must be around somewhere, maybe reading in her room, drawing or dreaming. She'd show up quietly when Tommy was around, which was not often. He was a teenager by now and he had a secret crush, which was not a secret at all, of course. Too busy with his life to spend time with his sister and Melissa herself never sought his company. She'd just wander into the room to see if everything was alright, then made herself scarce again.

It was only in the last weeks of her life that it became obvious Melissa was wasting away. The doctors were of no help. Nothing in their tests gave a clue as to why life was leaving her. When she could not get out of bed anymore, they begged her to go to the hospital. It was then that Melissa spoke again.
'You must not be sorry for me. It might look like I'm dying to you, but I am not. My mission here is over. It's hard to explain, but I'm not the Melissa you think. The girl you carried in your womb, something went wrong, she would've died at birth. That could not be allowed, because Tommy is important. I don't know why, but the future depends on him. I was sent here in her stead to watch over Tommy until he is grown. I am not needed here anymore. It's time to go back to my real parents, they've been hoping for so long to have a child.'
She raised a hand to stroke her mother's cheeks, now wet with tears, and then she was gone.

Tommy was hit hardest by Melissa's death and he spent many nights thinking what she had meant by her final words. He could never figure it out, but on many occasions he found himself wondering if Melissa would've been proud of him, whether his life had been worth her sacrifice.
That was a feeling he could never truly shake off. Not even now that's he's old and he can barely get out of his chair. Looking at his grandchildren playing on the floor he cannot help thinking back at his own childhood. He often tells them stories about his sister, the games they used to play, their secret language that had no words. The kids don't really listen to his stories, children never do, but now the boy, Danny, raises his head.
'Someday I'll build a machine that will translate feelings and thoughts so we can talk to the aliens, so they'll know we mean them no harm when we meet'.
Tommy smiled the way we smile when kids say silly things and maybe somewhere, far away, Melissa smiled too.

Story written for @mariannewest's freewrite challenge. Today's prompt was: wet! Check out her blog and join our freewrite community.

In case you've just stumbled upon this, the story starts here:

Part1
Part 2

Thanks for reading!

Image: Pixabay