“At the repast, then,” she says, then she walks away like her word is law.
Raya watches her go.
The banquet hall is across the street and down a few hundred feet. It’s a silent walk.
I wanna get inside her head to see how she’s feeling and what she’s thinking. I need to know how to shield her from whatever’s coming, and I can’t do that with her closed off like this. Then I think, maybe she doesn’t need protecting. Maybe she’s grappling with something I can’t understand, and maybe it’s not my place to understand.
She has her hand on her remote, and all I can do is watch as she turns the dials.
42
Raya
I’m too weirded out to eat.
My mother just talked to me.
The banquet hall reminds me of the church basements we used to sit in after service when I was younger. Back when my parents were still together and Connie dragged us all there every Sunday.
I don’t miss it.
While Ace is getting his food, I sit at a small round table covered with a dirty white tablecloth. I don’t know any of these people. These mourners. I don’t know where they came from our how they knew my brother. And I don’t wanna know, because I don’t care. I don’t even know why I came. Tori had the right idea; too bad I didn’t follow her lead.
Ace comes back with a plate full of fucking nonsense, and he’s not sitting for a full minute when my mother waltzes up to us.
“I got us a room.”
Oh, well, that makes up for everything.
Ace stands, then pulls me up, and we follow behind Medusa. She leads us to a small room off the main hall that probably doubles as overflow for people and coats and foil pans of food.
“This is my husband, Ace,” I say. “And I want him to stay. Whatever you have to say, you can say in front of him.”
“Congratulations,” she deadpans. “I heard you got married.”
I chuckle at the absurdity. “What do you need?”
She sits across from me and folds her hands in her lap. Ace stays by my side, chewing on a Hawaiian roll right in my damn ear.
“Do you want an explanation?”
I blink slowly. “For what?”
“For leaving you.”
I lean back in my chair, resting against the cushion. The metal legs squeak on the tile, breaking the silence.
“Not really. You did what was right for you, and it is what it is.”
Connie frowns like she was expecting something else. “You seem cold.”
“Should I be warm towards you? I barely know you.”
She flinches. “I was trying to survive, Raya. Your brother understood.”
“I’ll never know if that’s true or not, because I can’t go across the street and ask him.”
She nods. “It’s fine. I guess I don’t deserve your forgiveness.”
