“I wish I was rubbingyouoff.”
He rolls his eyes and kisses my forehead once again. “Come on, we don’t want to be late for Elias.”
“Hold on.” I tug on his hand. “Can we talk about yesterday, what the media is saying?”
“No need. Everything is fine,” he says, but in an instant, I watch him morph from easygoing and carefree to tense. I’m sure reading the articles hasn’t been easy, and the mention of it doesn’t feel good. I just want to make sure he’s okay.
But I also don’t want to push him. I know Theo said to help him, but pushing him to anger is not the way to do it, so I accept his answer. “Okay, but for what it’s worth, they had it all wrong. You didn’t kick her; it was a mere shove. Honestly, she was inyourway.”
That brings the smallest of smiles to his face.
“At least you’ve changed your perspective.” He squeezes my hand, and Elias welcomes us into the ancestor room.
After taking a seat, Keller sitting closer this time, Elias sits across from us and rests his hands in his lap.
“Shall we talk about yesterday?”
Oh Elias . . .
“We don’t really have to,” I say.
“I cramped up,” Keller says, surprising me. “I couldn’t avoid it, and I accidentally knocked a girl with my leg. It was all a big mistake. I spoke with Ottar today, and we won’t be doing any heavy workouts on days when we have engagements that require me to sit in tiny chairs. Nothing else to talk about.”
Huh, at least he spoke to Ottar about it. Leave it to Keller to gain control of the narrative before I can even wake up and go to the bathroom.
“Well, that’s a good problem-solving tactic. Well done, Keller. Although, I do wonder about how you handled your attitude before the incident happened.”
Come on, Elias. Why poke the bear?
We were good.
We brought it up.
We took blame.
We found a solution.
Move on, you nitwit.
Keller shifts beside me, his telltale sign of being uncomfortable. “What are you talking about?” Now there’s an edge to his voice.
See what you did, Elias? You stuck your nose where it shouldn’t belong! Not the way to start these sessions.
“It was brought to my attention that before you sat down with the children, you were stiff and unwelcoming.”
“I don’t think that’s true,” I say and then give it a thought. “I mean, sure, he might have been a touch stiff, but he was wearing new, freshly pressed pants, which could have been touching him in a weird way. That could have made any regular old person stiff. I know when I’m wearing an uncomfortable bra or a thong that won’t stop jamming up my crack—”
“Lilly,” Keller reprimands.
Oh right, have class.
Class, class, class.
“Err, I mean . . . when my dress doesn’t feel right, I become stiff as well. So it could have been the pants.”
“Was it the pants?” Elias asks Keller.
“The pants were fine.”
