"I think I'm at the point where I need advice. Because right now I just want to walk around town with a baseball bat and wreck shop on anyone who gives me a hard time."
The sound of her mother's laughter calmed her down, a bit. "Remind me what your hesitations are. Let's talk them through. Sometimes it helps just to just talk it out."
Ris huffed in exasperation. "I mean, the main problem right now is he has me backed into a corner. We agreed from the beginning that this was a stress-free relationship! And now he is giving me all of the stress! We said no strings, nothing serious. I didn't want some heavy expectation hanging over us every step of the way. You should see how some of my friends are fucked up from that," she added, thinking of Silva, who was a shell of herself and had possibly, potentially become a sociopath.
Ris shivered just thinking about the dead look in Silva's eyes, and she had watched from across the room the way the younger elf was able to snap on a cheery, the belle of the ball smile, going zero to sixty with no one paying attention.You were wrong all along. They were both switchblade rabbits.
“I don’t want to be responsible for someone else's happiness, not like that. And we both agreed on what we wanted. He's the one who changed things. With no conversation! And that was the one thing that we were really, really good at. So I'm upset that he's decided to completely change the parameters of our relationship on his own. I'm the second person here, I should get a say in things! I'm just . . .reallyfucking mad at him."
Her mother nodded emphatically from her tablet screen. "I completely agree. He had no right doing that without discussing it with you first. I don't like ultimatums either. Okay, so what's the other end of it? Because that seems like you're pretty certain."
Another deep breath, aggravation seeping from her pores. Ris opened her mouth to continue lambasting the way Ainsley had steamrolled her, changing their relationship entirely, but instead, her eyes filled with tears once more.
"He's the best guy I've ever met,” she choked out, her emotions overwhelming her yet again. “He's smart, and he's funny, and he's sexy, and he's curious about everything. He loves music and books and we have so much fun together. I really do love him."
A sob ripped from her throat, one she'd not been expecting, nearly choking her.
"And his life is so small, mommy. I want toshakehim! He doesn't understand that all of these big decisions he's making, these crazy changes with moving and changing his job, they're not important. He’s rushing for nothing. His life is so small it fits in the palm of my hand, and it'snot worthwasting time on things that aren't important."
"Is that the real problem, Ris?" Her mother asked gently, bringing her up short. "And I understand if it is."
She blew her nose, angrily wiping her eyes all over again. "It's not. Not really." She laughed, thinking of Ainsley's insistence on her wearing him in her watch. "We talked about that and everything. He said I can upload his consciousness to a server and we can keep traveling the world, after he's gone."
On the other side of the screen, her mother smiled, wiping her own tears away. “Sweetheart, you know all we want is for you to be happy. He sounds perfect for you. But . . .”
Ris blinked hard, sucking down her tears.But? But what? We’re perfect together, the end. There’s no but, that's the problem.
“If you told him that you don’t want to be responsible for his happiness . . . well, isn’t that what he’s doing, Ris? Because if the way things are isn’t making him happy, isn’t taking care of himself what you told him you wanted? It would have been better if he’d had a discussion, rather than you giving you ultimatums, but . . . well, wouldn't a discussion imply that youareresponsible for his happiness? And he yours? Makingchoices unilaterally seems in-line with the kind of relationship you asked for, baby.”
For a small eternity, the world fell away.
She had done this to herself. Ris sat back in chair, mouth agape. She had spent so many years spinning her wheels with men who took her nowhere, so many bad dates and broken promises, and she had hardened herself off, like a solitary tree growing amidst an untamed garden. She was so concerned with maintaining her independence, with ensuring that she was never just a cog in the Elvish baby machine, intent on doing everything herself . . . and she had done this. Her eyes filled with tears again.
“So I guess you have to ask yourself, baby, is having this relationship onyourterms the most important thing? Because Ris, I have to tell you, you’re talking abouthimfocusing on things that don't matter in the long run . . . Does this matter right now? Is it worth digging your heels in on something so small if it means you're going to lose him completely?"
Ris began to cry again. She’d not considered it that way, not a single time.Shewas the one at the center of their web, the one holding everything together for everyone else. Didn’t that mean she was right?Unfuckingbelievable. All she had been able to see washimchanging things on her. And that was exactly what she’d invited in.You told him you didn’t want something serious.That was an invitation to leave.
His life was so small, such a tiny vial of sand.He's here for such a short time. Is any of this worth losing him?
"No," she mumbled. It wasn't. And she might change her mind. She might change her mind a hundred more times, butshehad all the time in the world to change it. "No, it doesn't. You're right."
Silva
"Darling, now don't forget, Moralei was able to get you right back on the committee, no second thought at all. So you'll have a space at the brunch this weekend, right there at the front table."
Silva smiled serenely. "Perfect. That sounds wonderful. I'll be sure to thank her. They did such a nice job with the decorations for this, don't you think?"
The spring fashion show was one of the most attended events of the year, and all around them buzzed the high-pitched chatter of Elvish women, heads leaning in, dissecting the room around them, the decor, the refreshments, wardrobe choices of the women who passed them. Silva was right there, beside her mother and grandmother at one of the pricey donor tables. They had waffled between sitting at a table or sitting in one of the folding chairs in front of the runway, eventually deciding the table would be more comfortable for her grandmother.
"Darling, are you sure you don't want to have your own seat up front?"
She had taken her grandmother's hand, hooking their arms as they entered the venue that afternoon. "Of course not. Our seats are perfect. And this way, we get to talk about the dresses."
Daytime Silva was an obedient doll, always doing exactly what was expected of her. Pretty and perfect, well-mannered and well-bred, without a single thought in her head beyond the fundraiser and what handsome elf might engage her in conversation at the reception afterward.
If she had thought her absence from Cevanorë had made a splash, Silva might have been disappointed upon her inglorious return. A ripple, was more like it.Silent, like drowning.
Her mother had clearly burnt the candle at both ends each and every week her daughter had been absent, poisoning the well with better gossip, juicier stories, ruinous details about other families. Silva considered thathehad once told her that what he collected were secrets. Her mother, she realized, was the same. Bits of gossip, rumors and half-verified truths alike, tasty morsels she kept tucked away until it was necessary to throw them to the crowd for feeding. Silva's return to the fold was seamless and uneventful, as if she'd never left in the first place.
