As they worked on the puzzle, they chatted. Glyma told her about her business and how Quin was helping her incorporate. She told her about her ideas for the cafe, and her mother responded with enthusiasm. It was warm and kind, but there was a lack of familiarity. Like two acquaintances getting to know each other, instead of a mother and daughter reconnecting.
Quin had a hunch that Glyma had told her mother all of this before, but she’d simply forgotten. The same way she’d forgotten who Glyma was. The way she would forget Quin the moment they left the room.
Dementia was a cruel, heartless disease.
“What time is it?” Ms. Aryti asked, the ease in her tone and expression gone entirely.
“It’s—” Quin started, but Glyma interrupted her.
“Almost dinner time.”
“I have to pick up my daughter,” she said, standing suddenly. “I’m late. She’s waiting.”
Glyma followed her up. “No, she isn’t. She’s with the neighbor, remember? The neighbor is bringing her home later.”
Ms. Aryti frowned, but she allowed Glyma to guide her back to her seat. “That’s right,” she said slowly. “I must have forgotten.”
“That’s okay,” Glyma said with forced cheer. “You don’t have to worry about that. She’ll be home later.”
Nodding, her mother reached for another puzzle piece, fingers trembling slightly. “She’ll be home later. It’s a shame you missed her. She’s so bright. Smart as a whip.”
Glyma’s chin wobbled, but her voice was even as she said, “I bet she learned it from you.”
“She’s a good girl,” Ms. Aryti mumbled. “Wish you could have met her. She would have made cookies for you. Likes to bake, you see.”
“Yeah,” Glyma said, voice cracking this time. “Yeah, she does.”
“Such a good girl.”
Tears glistened in Glyma’s eyes, and she excused herself to use the bathroom. Her mother continued the puzzle, and Quin attempted to help. She was rather useless, but she handed the pieces Ms. Aryti couldn’t reach to her when she asked.
“You’re a good match,” she said, taking Quin off guard.
“Pardon?”
Ms. Aryti pinned her with a hard stare above her glasses. “You two. Good energy match. Could tell the moment you walked in.”
“We’re just friends,” Quin said, and Ms. Aryti arched a disbelieving eyebrow.
“You can’t bullshit a Succubus, not about this.” Snapping her fingers, she wriggled her hand in expectation. “Give ’em here.”
“I’m sorry?” Quin asked.
With a sound of impatience, she wriggled her fingers more forcefully. “Your hands, girl. Give ’em here.”
Quin held out her hands, and Ms. Aryti propped her glasses on her head and grabbed Quin’s wrists in a strong grasp. She flipped her hands over until they were palms-up. She studiedthem with a deep furrow to her brow, rubbing her thumbs over the lines, humming to herself at even intervals.
“Almost there,” she said, cupping Quin’s chin next and staring deep into her eyes. “Yeah, you’re almost there. That’s good.”
“Almost where?” Quin asked, unsure if she wanted to know the answer.
“Where you need to be,” she said simply. “Lock’s already gone. Up to you to open the door. You just didn’t know ’til now, and there’s nothing wrong with that.”
“I don’t understand,” Quin said.
“’Course you do, or at least you will soon enough.” Another glance at Quin’s palms. “Sooner than you think. That’s good. It’s no way to live.”
“What’s no way to live?”
