The conversation shifted as he continued to complain about work, relaying stories of band practice and the museum exhibits he and Ris had visited. His mother asked her more about work, how her own family was doing, and gave him a play-by-play of the family reunion that had ended in a chair-to-the-back-of-the-head brawl in the courtyard of the building, earlier that month. Ris thanked her profusely for the vegetarian options provided on her table — soft potato dumplings stuffed with onions and mushrooms, omitting the bacon from a handful for her, followed by a curry dish laden with vegetables in a rich sauce, served over rice.
"Everything is delicious," Ris said between mouthfuls. "I think I gain ten pounds every time we come to visit."
"A tiny little elf like you could probably use the extra weight," Shu’la laughed. "Speaking of. Ainsley, how is my boyfriend? Why has the love of my life not been around recently?"
Ris raised her eyebrows as she chewed, watching Ainsley drop his head back, rolling his eyes.
"I think we had this conversation already. Because he's a workaholic. And a control freak. And clinically depressed. Also, every waking moment he is not at one of his businesses being a nuisance is spent with his girlfriend, about whom I will absolutely not say a single negative word, because she may or may not have a friend present. So please, stop asking me to expound on the details of why she is literally sort of the worst.”
Ris rolled her eyes as he raised a long arm in the air, arcing it as if she might not see the way he pointed at her head.
"We actually just saw them the other night," he added. "He was acting very weird.” He turned to Ris. “Wasn't he acting weird?"
"I mean, Tate is a weirdo. So was it really weirder than normal?"
At that, Shu'la began laughing again, as Ainsley rolled his eyes. "Oh, she has his number. This one doesn't miss a thing, Ains. I hope you keep him on his toes," she added conspiratorially to Ris.
She laughed in response, nodding her agreement. "Oh, I do. But no, to answer your question, babe, I thought he seemed in a really good mood. Like, it was actually a fun night, and I can't say that's always true about time spent in Tate's company. I'm sorry," she directed back to Ainsley's mother with another laugh. "I'm sorry to disparage the love of your life, but he can bereallyintense."
"Yeah, that'swhyit was weird," Ainsley cut in. "He was in a weirdly good mood."
"Did you consider it's because his girlfriend makes him happy?"
He dropped his chin to his palm, his elbow propped up on the table, his eyebrows drawn together in a ponderous expression.. "No, that can't be it. She's terrible."
Shu'la smacked the back of her son's head, getting up to refill glasses as Ris laughed in outrage.
"Seriously though,” Ainsley went on “he was in a very 'last night of vacation so may as well make the most of it,' mood. And then he was extra nice right before leaving, and that was justextremelyout of character. He’s never that nice. I don't know, ShuShu. I personally think your boyfriend is in crisis and I'm worried about him. Stay tuned, I guess."
“I take it Tate has visited," Ris asked, once his mother was reseated.
"Oh, he has. Ainsley has been able to drag him away from work a few times to come here, let me feed him a proper meal. I've never met someone more in need of mothering than that boy."
Something about her words made Ris frown.Not someone I would ever call a boy.Teeth with a bad attitude, maybe. Evil switchblade rabbit."How old is he? I know youjustthrew him a birthday party, but I have no idea how old he was turning." She turned to Shu’la. "I’m asking because he's involved with a friend of mine from work. And she's kind of young. Well, youngish. Elves . . ."
She trailed off, considering how to explain their culture of aging to a woman who would be dead before Ris hit middle age.It’s not like they don’t know we live a lot longer.
"You know we have a long lifespan, right? So, we're sheltered a lot longer, compared to most species. Especially if you grow up in one of the enclave communities, which Silva has. I know that probably seems silly, and it's definitely something your son doesn't seem to understand. But Silva is only 26. She's spoiled and a little naive, but she still has averylong life ahead of her. I totally get that 26 is a normal age for folks of other species tostart thinking about marriage and babies, and it is for us, too, for different reasons, though. I never even thought to ask how old Tate was."
She turned back to Ainsley expectantly. For a long moment neither mother or son said anything.
"A lot older than he looks," Ainsley said at last, somewhat unwillingly. "But —"
"He's just a baby," Shula cut in. "Whether it's true or not is neither here nor there. I practically raised a dozen of my cousins and neighbors when I was just a teenager. I raised my little brothers and sisters. I raised my own baby boy, on my own, with no help to speak of. I consider myself an expert on parenting, and I can tell that boy's foundation was cut off too early. He's like a ship with no harbor in his heading. There's nothing there but the school of hard knocks. Having graduated from that institution myself, I can tell you, it doesn't teach anything but defense."
Ris and Ainsley had nothing to say to that. Ris sipped her water slowly, considering his mother's words. She used the last bit of bread at the corner of her plate to mop up the remainder of her curry sauce, eyes fluttering closed for a moment at how good it was. Another sip of her water. "He's still a weirdo."
Shu’la laughed, pulling the empty serving plates towards her to stack. "That's probably so. I've always had a fondness for weirdos." Raising from the table, she bent to kiss the side of Ainsley's head. "So, tell me, Ms. Ris. How exactly does Elvish aging work? I've always wondered about that.”
The question brought her up short. She'd not been expecting it, and nearly choked on the water she'd just swallowed.
"We've already had this discussion, mom. She's gonna strap me to her head like a goPro and we're going to tour museums around the world. I'm assuming neural lacing technology willhave progressed to the point that this is possible by then. So if you were wondering about my retirement plan . . ."
Both women laughed again, and Ris breathed out a sigh of relief, glad he'd broken the tension that had abruptly built within her. "Wehavediscussed that, as a matter of fact. I am looking forward to taking you to all the places we don’t manage to see before then." Another strange twist within her, heat seeping in at the edges of her face.
"We've all been talking about death at work as well," Shu'la put in, sobering Ris immediately. "I think it's just something in the air, you know, this time of year. He's moving through, so I guess it's natural."
Ris raised an eyebrow. Ainsley's mother was not wrong. She had met Lurielle for lunch a few days earlier, apologetic over having missed the florist visit. When she'd walked into the room, she was shocked to find Lurielle hunched over the table, furiously writing in a pretty, leather bound journal, wiping away tears as she did so. A memento book, she had explained, cataloging the significance of every item she was gathering up in a chest. An exercise from her therapist, Lurielle had confessed, to help her cope with the reality that she was marrying a man she would vastly outlive. Ris had chokingly shared her own vial of sand analogy, and their lunch had been far more depressing than either of them had likely counted on.
