And Ms. Aryti, pink eyes so much like her daughter’s, said, “Trapped. But you already know that, don’t you?”
“I—I—” Quin stammered, and Ms. Aryti's expression softened.
“That’s okay, dear. You know now, and that’s what matters in the end.” She patted Quin’s cheek affectionately before she returned her glasses to her nose and studied another piece. “I hope they serve meatloaf tonight. That’s my favorite.”
When Glyma returned, she was composed, but her eyes were puffy, like she’d been crying. But she sat back down and finished the puzzle with her mother as they talked about things they’d probably talked about before. Brenda popped her head in to give the fifteen-minute warning to dinner and asked if Glyma and Quin would be joining them, but Glyma shook her head.
“Thanks for letting us help with the puzzle,” Glyma said as she stood and dug around in her purse. She pulled out a box and offered it to her mom. “I brought you a new one.”
“Oh, well, isn’t that so sweet.” Ms. Aryti took the puzzle box and admired the image on the front. “This one will be beautiful. Thank you, dear.”
“Can we come back next week?” Glyma asked, and her mother nodded.
“Well, that would be lovely. A day with the girls. Maybe my Glyma will be here. She’ll make you cookies.”
Glyma’s breath hitched, and she bent down and threw her arms around her mother’s shoulders. Ms. Aryti made a noise of surprise, but she didn’t push Glyma away. She slowly reached up and patted Glyma’s back, casting Quin a look of bewilderment.
“Oh my. Well… okay, then.” She settled into the hug a little more when Glyma sobbed softly. “There, there. It’s gonna be okay. Don’t you worry. Everything will be right as rain before you know it.”
Sniffling, Glyma withdrew from the embrace and nodded. “I know.”
Ms. Aryti tapped Glyma’s cheek with several fingers. “You just keep that chin up.”
“I will,” Glyma said, then she pecked her mother’s cheek quickly. “Love you, Mom.”
Then she rushed from the room, leaving her mother stunned. Quin jumped to her hooves to follow, but strong fingers circled her wrist, stopping her. She glanced down at Ms. Aryti.
Her brows drew down in concentration, and she blinked rapidly. For a moment, something flickered in her eyes, something bright and sharp.
“You take care of her for me,” she said, sounding the same yet not the same at all.
“I will,” Quin said, because how could she say anything but?
The light in her eyes winked out as fast as it had appeared, and she dropped Quin’s wrist. Turning back to her puzzle, she waved at the door. “Best go after your girl. She seemed upset, poor dear.”
“It was nice to meet you, Ms. Aryti,” Quin said, but Glyma’s mother didn’t respond, instead placing a puzzle piece into a spot it didn’t belong.
Glyma wasn’t in the halls, and Quin jogged past the empty front desk, pushing through the doors into the parking lot. Glyma was leaning against the hood of her car, lighter flicking as she struggled to light a cigarette. At Quin’s approach, she glanced her way and grimaced.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to leave you there like that. I just…” She took a trembling inhale and nearly choked on the smoke—or a sob. “She gets upset when I call hermom, and I hate upsetting her. But I didn’t mean to leave you like that.”
“It’s fine, Glyma,” Quin said as Glyma took another shaky drag, fingers quaking.
“Some days are just harder than others, you know?” She wiped at the tears streaming down her cheeks. “Sometimes, we have a nice time, and I can enjoy my mom in whatever way I can. And then there’s days like today where I feel like I’m drowning, and I need my mom. I just want my mom.”
Quin stepped in between Glyma’s legs and hauled her down into a hug. Glyma burst into heaving sobs, tucking her face into Quin’s neck. Most of her weight was on the car, but she leaned heavily on Quin all the same as she broke apart. And Quin held her, hooves set firmly on the ground, one hand rubbing her back, one cupping her head, soft hair twisted in her fingers.
“I miss my mom, Quin,” Glyma sobbed. “I miss her so much.”
“I know,” Quin said, her own eyes stinging. “I’m sorry. Glyma, I’m so sorry.”
She cooed comforting non-words as she pet Glyma’s hair, holding her close as she mourned the loss of someone who wasn’t even dead. Glyma clung to Quin, cigarette forgotten on the ground, a lonely point of smoldering light as dusk settledaround them. They stood that way until the cigarette was nothing but ash.
Chapter seven
Friends… or Something
Glyma
