There was no plan to reconvene inside after they returned to the Midwinter house this time, but Rowan was desperate to talk to someone about what had happened on the mountain and that person would not be her mother.
Before Zaide could climb into her car, Rowan snagged her by the sleeve.
“Can you stay?”
Zaide took one look at her face and said, “Of course.”
The two of them settled under heavy blankets on the porch swing. It was the same spot they’d staked as teenagers to go over plots, gossip, and plan. They didn’t cuddle up with the same intimacy they’d once shared, but the distance between them was no longer as wide as it had been on Rowan’s first day back in town.
Zaide finished rolling a joint and lit the end with a flicker of flame that appeared with a snap of her fingers. Its burning red ember flared with her inhale. As she released a trail of smoke, she leaned back and propped her leg up against the railing of the front porch. She held it out in offering, but Rowan waved it down.
“Still afraid of letting go of the reins for a bit, huh?” said Zaide with a chuckle.
Rowan wrinkled her nose in consternation. “It’s not about that.”
“Oh, really?”
“Okay, maybe…Ugh. Pass it over.”
Zaide handed her the joint, and she considered it a moment before putting it to her lips and taking a big hit. The scorch of it hit her lungs, and she coughed in a spasm, passing it back while waving smoke out of her face.
“That’s why,” she said, with another coughing fit.
“It’s because you don’t know,” said Zaide, taking another puff. “Goes away with time and practice.”
“Because you kill all the nerves, you mean…You still buying from my uncle?”
“Of course. There’s no pot like witch pot, and his prices aren’t bad.” When Zaide offered it again, Rowan shook her head, preferring instead to drink in the cool night air. “So, why’d you drag me out here?”
The entire story of her day came out then. Zaide was rapt, cheering at all the right moments, letting out noises of frustration when it was appropriate. When Rowan admitted to bringing an end to the sauna encounter with her breakdown, Zaide blew a raspberry.
“Hurry up and fuck, you two,” she said, pounding on the arm of the chair with each word in emphasis.
“You’re not going to scold me for ‘fraternizing with the industrialists’?”
Zaide snorted. “First off, I’m not eighty. Second, I’m not part of this long messy history you all cling to like it’s a core part of your identity. Third, I already told you—it’s always been obvious you two wanted to tear each other’s clothes off. Even back in high school.”
Rowan was stunned. “Excuse me? You did not say that—you said he got under my skin.”
Zaide’s mouth curled into a smirk. “Exactly.”
The accusation sank in, and Rowan held out a hand for the joint to take another hit, coughing again but keeping the smoke down a little longer this time.
Was it possible that this had been more than a decade in the making? Was that why this desperate wanting came on so fast, so strong, denying common sense?
“You know,” said Zaide, “there was a time I almost thought you two finally did it.”
Rowan’s head rolled her way. “Really?”
“Yeah, I mean, there was this period of a few weeks, maybe amonth, where the two of you seemed…” She gazed into the distance, taking a hit as she considered how to say it. “Like you were up to something together, and you were happy as shit about it. Anyway, it didn’t last. Things went back to normal pretty quick.” She studied Rowan. “You have no clue what I’m talking about?”
“None,” said Rowan, shaking her head. “I wish I did. Maybe we were really excited about a project we were working on together?”
Zaide snorted. “If it was a ‘study of the human body.’ Please, no one looksthathappy about school projects. Not even you nerds.”
Not knowing how to parse the revelation, Rowan changed the subject. She leaned over, excited. “Speaking of that, Gavin’s in on Operation Holly and Ivy.”
Zaide was quiet. She took a long drag off the joint and studied it, avoiding Rowan’s eyes.
