“How am I supposed to show my work for that?!”
Despina gave her a sharp-edged smile as Lurielle stepped through the office door, pausing in the hallway.
“That’s what pictures are for. Souvenirs. A memento from every event and vacation and milestone. Something you can hold. Your homework is to give it a label. Write down what you did, where you went, how he made you laugh. The arguments you had over directions, the make-up sex you had someplace inappropriate. Birthdays, children, vacations . . . everything. Write it all down.”
“So what I’m getting from this is that you’re still giving me journaling homework.”
There was a troll coming down the hallway, tall and reedy, looking as if the weight of his curled tusks might topple him over. There was nowhere else he could be heading to, other than Despina’s office.
“I’m still giving you journaling homework,” the sphinx confirmed with another laugh. “A journal entry to correspond with every one of those photos and mementos. It’s homework right now because I know you need something to focus on. But someday, Lurielle, it’ll be your favorite book.”
The full weight of Despina's words didn't fully register until the elevator doors glided shut, leaving her alone at last. Lurielle's eyes welled with tears once more. She had never been a cryer. Growing up, there hadn't been a point to tears. Crying never convinced her mother to allow her to stay home from dance class or swim class or etiquette class. Her young life had been jam packed with extracurriculars of her mother's choosing, none of them things Lurielle actually wanted to do, all of them held at the club, all of them excruciating. Tears had never gotten her out of a single one. It was a sign of how out-of-control her emotionswere now, she thought, as the elevator car arrived at the ground level, and she wiped her eyes on her sleeve.
They would need to become more like Ris and Ainsley, she thought, crossing to her car. Despite the tears, she grinned at the thought of telling Khashthatone. It had been more than a week since their ill-fated dinner with the pair, and he'd not stopped mumbling and grumbling about it since.
Still. Lurielle knew from recent stories that she and Ainsley were never home. Ris did yoga and had recently started ballet. Ainsley played in several different bands. They went to museums and concerts and art exhibits, cultural festivals and open lectures at the college.A memento from every vacation, outing, milestone. Someday, it will be your favorite book.
Khash was home waiting for her, she knew. He texted her that afternoon a couple hours before she had left work, letting her know he'd have dinner ready by the time she got home from therapy. They would tell each other about their respective days, she would complain about work and he would likely still be grousing about Ainsley and his audacity, they would walk the dogs together, put away the dishes together, and go to bed together. Despina hadn't said anything about journaling every minute of every day, but she didn't want to forget any of it.How will you remember all of the small in-between moments?
Khash was waiting for her. She didn't know how to come to terms with this yet, still didn’t know how she was meant to . . . but he was home waiting for her, and right now that was all that mattered, Lurielle reminded herself, as she sobbed against the steering column.
"Junie, if you don't stop pulling on his leash, I'm gonna start pushing you in one of those humiliatin' little buggies. Is that what you want? You want all these other yappy little dogs to see you gettin' pushed like a baby? Because I'll do it if you don't start acting right."
Junie paid Khash's words absolutely no mind as she continued to lurch forward, pulling with all her Yorkie-might against her harness. She barked at passersby, she barked at other dogs, she barked at chipmunks. At one point, she began barking at a dog sitting in the backseat of its owner's car at an intersection, prompting the other hound to get his head wedged in thepartially open window as he retaliated, before the light turned green.
"I'm not sure that would be a punishment," Lurielle mused. "More energy for being a little asshole if she doesn't have to walk. Plus, she knows you’re bluffing."
She held Ordo's leash. By contrast, the big mastiff plodded along lazily, only pulling to occasionally sniff around the base of a tree and lift his leg. Every time they passed a wide enough window, Lurielle grinned at the reflection. The giant orc walking the poorly behaved little lapdog, while she led giant, sweet Ordo, his jowls swinging. She had no doubt that Junie would use the advantage of a dog stroller — higher off the ground thus able to lord over her four pawed underlings on the concrete — to bark even more aggressively.
This is one of those moments. You want to be able to look back on this and smile forever.Her internal voice was right, she decided. Despina wasn’t wrong — looking back was the only way she’d be able to move forward, someday.But not for a long, long time. She got her chance as they approached the paint-your-own pottery shop, with its sidewalk-to-roof front window. Lurielle angled herself as they walked, a few paces behind Khash, capturing their reflection in the glass with her phone.See? You can do this.
"Are we stopping at the scoop truck? With these cold nights, I’m sure she's probably getting close to shutting down for the year. Then we'll be stuck waiting in line at the shop."
"Bluebell, do I look like the bully boy? Do you see me hoppin’ from foot to foot like my allowance is burning a hole in my pocket? If we want ice cream, I don't think it'll kill us to wait in line at the shop."
His big hand reached out, engulfing her tiny one as her shoulders shook in laughter. He couldn't resist an opportunity to take a swing at Rourke, even if thebully boywas absent.She turned at the sidewalk, pulling him along, heading to the long, green park in the center of town. Khash scooped up Junie, trapping her beneath his arm as they neared more people on the sidewalk.
"See? You just gave her what she wanted. Now daddy's carrying her, she's high up and can see everything. Look at that, she's not even barking now. She played you like Granddaddy’s fiddle and you fell for it. You're probably going to still buy her a cone, even though she's been naughty since we left."
"’Course I am. Like you said, she's not even barking. Doin' as she was asked. And besides, I'm not going to punish Ordo, and we can't let him have one in front of her if she doesn't get some. That's inequitable parenting, Bluebell. Lilypiddles is doing her best."
She continued to laugh as they entered the line, wheezing when the familiar cashier, upon recognizing Lurielle, asked Khash in a completely flat voice which line of samples he would be taking. Khash gave the college-aged dryad his most charming smile, stretching around his massive tusks, but she could tell by the way his spine straightened that he took a mortal offense to being confused with Rourke.
"Oh no, none'a that. We don't need to pretend this is our first time leaving the house. First and most importantly, we're going to have two pup cups, thank you so much. I'll have a scoop of Brownie Bite and a scoop of Caramel Ribbon Crunch in a waffle cone. Bluebell—"
"I'll have the Grape Escape Sorbet."
Khash turned back to the cashier, still beaming as he stuffed a 20-dollar bill into their tip jar, a pointed reminder that he wasnotthe minotaur with whom she usually visited the truck.That’s what he thinks, but Rourke is also an over-tipper.Junie yipped in the cashier’s direction for good measure as they stepped away, earning a fresh round of laughter from her.
"That's my good girl. Impugning our honor, aren't they? Confusing us with any ole’ riff raff at the window."
It was almost too cold for ice cream, but neither of the dogs minded they tucked into their miniature cups of plain vanilla soft serve, Junie earning an extra scratch behind her ears.
“This is the life, Bluebell,” Khash sighed as she sank down beside him on the bench. “Look at this. A park downtown instead of a parking garage. Ice cream made from local cows’ milk on demand. The most beautiful elf in the world beside me. I can see three orcs right there on the other side of Main Street, coming out of the coffee shop. You’ve got your basket weavin’ classes and your whole cupcake-eating community right up the road. No one is giving anyone grief over the way they live.”
“I can’t help but guess that this whole bucolic little monologue of yours is a prelude to another round of ‘that boy’s got his head on backwards and up his ass besides’ about Ainsley.”
Khash sputtered and she nearly choked on her sorbet in laughter. “Bluebell, am I wrong? Tell me I’m wrong. That boy's about half a bubble off plumb if thinks he’s gonna tell me or anyone else about the future of our heritage just because he’s been to a few museum exhibits.”
