My mother’s fingers trembled on the table.
“I don’t want you to get trapped by things you thought were there and weren’t... or by someone who says they’re the only one who can love you.”
I opened the envelope. Inside was an index card with thename and address of a bank, a routing and account number. Another folded slip of paper showed the balance in the account, which was under my name. It would not be a lot of money to Indigo, but it was a fortune to me.
“When I turned eighteen, I moved in with my boyfriend and never spoke to my parents again,” she said with a faint laugh. She sank into the chair. Her sweater slipped off her shoulder. She looked so bony, like she’d been worn down to a gristle of a woman.
“Soon, you’ll be eighteen and you won’t have to live under my roof. You’re barely here anyway.” Her mouth twisted, and I braced myself for a kick that never came. “But whatever you do, I want it to be on your own terms. You could use the money for college if you wanted. Or travel? What will you do after graduation?”
I will grow wings and become a queen, I thought.But I said nothing. Part of me believed I kept quiet because it was a sacred destiny that only Indigo and I knew about, another part knew I stayed silent out of doubt and shame. Shame that when I tried to say those words, they no longer sat easily on my tongue. What had once tasted true had gone slanted.
Or maybe I didn’t want that to be the truth anymore.
I clutched my mother’s envelope to my chest. Her gaze was a painful invitation. I couldn’t bring myself to answer it directly, so I reached for the chair beside her, and for the first time in ages, I sat down.
A week later, I found Tati alone in her bedroom. Lucidity came to her in short spells those days. She stiffened when she heard me enter. She sniffed the air, and goose bumps trailed along my skin. Tati always said that she could tell who we were on scent alone because Indigo smelled of apples, and I of honeysuckle.
“Does Indigo know you’re here?”
“I told her I wanted to read.”
Tati smiled. “But you did not say that you wanted to read tome.”
Tati was working her own enchantments on me, that quiet coaxing, nearly undetectable, like hair slipping loose from a braid. Tati was right. I hadn’t told Indigo that I was going to read to her. She didn’t like it when I was alone with Tati.
“Come,” said Tati, rasping.
She gestured me closer, and I obeyed. I could smell the food dropped onto her dressing gown, unnoticed by the nurse and now pungent. Tati parted her lips. Her breath was medicinal sweetness laid over the rot.
Tati reached out, her hand patting up my arm. I bent down, thinking she wished to whisper in my ear. She stroked my cheek once, and then grabbed me around the neck, pulling me close.
“My eyes may be useless, but we both know that I am not the one who is blind,” said Tati in a fierce whisper. “Open your eyes.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
The Bridegroom
Once, I gave Indigo my heart.
It was our first Valentine’s Day together. I knew she abhorred the holiday, and I had nothing to offer that she couldn’t already buy herself ten times over. But on that morning, I slid into bed beside her with a plush rabbit toy in my hand.
“I have something for you,” I said. “A present. A gift inspired by Koschei himself.”
Indigo’s eyes flew open. She saw the toy rabbit and the corner of her mouth lifted. “And who is Koschei? The rabbit?”
I pulled her to me. She was sleep-mussed, her bronze skin like newly pressed satin. “No. He was a sorcerer who could not be killed. He separated himself from his very soul which he hid in a duck, in a sheep, in a tree.”
Indigo didn’t look at me. She traced circles on my chest. “Nested souls and nested secrets.”
“Precisely.”
She reached for the rabbit. “Is your soul my present?”
“Alas, only my mortal heart. But I’ve hidden it in a rose, in an egg, in a box, in a rabbit,” I announced.
Indigo found the seam in the toy rabbit and prized it open. Icried out and clutched my chest, and she laughed. Inside was a box, and inside that an eggshell, and inside that a packet of Indigo Rose tomato seeds.
Not long before she had told me she sometimes dreamt of a garden where things grew bright and nourishing. I thought she would be delighted. Instead, her fingers shook. Before I could ask whether she liked the gift or not, she drew me to her, and the packet of seeds fell to the floor.
