The sphynx nodded, naming a price that made her insides clench. It wasn’t money she had to throw away, but she didn’t see any other choice. The cost of ignorance was higher. She had her own bank account and would never need to explain this to Tannar.And you’re still a baby. If you call home, Daddy will top off your account. “Pretty steep for something you basically said I’m bound to lose.”
The sphynx’s smile was full of glinting teeth as she wrapped the key, her canines long and sharp, and Silva regretted the quip immediately.
“No amount of money can hold that which is not meant to be bound. Do not handle it. Do not lend it. And when it begins to feel heavier than it should, do not assume that is your imagination.” She held Silva’s eye once more, handing over the paper-wrapped parcel. “I wish you good fortune in finding what you seek. And if there’s anything else you require, you have our card. Our procurers can find most anything.”
The elevator door was already open when she approached it once more, taking her back to the ground floor without any direction. The package was cold. Even through several layers of the thick brown paper, through the cloth it was wrapped in, even through her fine leather gloves, Silva felt the stinging seep of an unnatural cold sinking into her bones.
The outside world seemed overloud when she stepped through the papered-over door, car horns and engines and the noise of nearby construction making her wince. Somehow though, through the din, Silva heard a tinyclickas the door shut behind her. She whirled in surprise, her fingertips finding the edge of the plywood once more, pulling . . . but there was no give, nothing that made it seem as if a door had been there at all. Shefelt a thump within her, a heartbeat on an opposite rhythm as her own.
“It’s okay,” she whispered, hand going to the bump that wasn’t there. “We’re okay.” She didn’t know if that was strictly true, but at least she had a starting point. “We’re going to be okay.” She still didn’t have answers and was no closer to finding him than she’d been a year ago. But she had a key. Now all she needed was to find its door.
Lurielle
Love that was conditional was not love she needed to make room for. Approval that was conditional was not approval she needed to seek. Affection that came with strings attached was something she was better off without.
They were good affirmations.
She’d come up with them on her own, an exercise in her workbook. She had practiced them in the mirror, written them in her journal, put them on sticky notes around her laptop so that she would see them and remember. Despina had applauded her efforts at her next therapy appointment, and Lurielle was satisfied that she was doing the best she could to internalize the reminders.
She wasn’t sure why, then, when the phone buzzed on her bedside table at 7:20 a.m., she even entertained the thought of answering it at all. Morning light slid in through the pulled-open curtains, soft and slanted and making her wince. She liked a dark room, but he’d been adamant.
“Darlin’, I know gettin’ you up and moving in the morning is like askin’ a hound to make nice with his fleas, but we need tostart developing better habits. You’re not gonna have a choice soon.”
She knew he was right. He was gone most mornings before the sky had even begun to lighten, his commute into the city one long backup on the highway. Ris had commented on it more than once since she’d moved, saying she didn’t envy Khash having to sit in it twice a day.
“I’ve got it easy. There aren’t nearly as many people going into the suburbs for work.”
Lurielle usually careened into the office bleary-eyed and five minutes late, but soon she’d need to be up for crack-of-dawn feedings, daycare drop-off, life beyond her third cup of coffee. Thatdidn’tmean she had to like it, and she liked it even less when it came with a side of her mother before 8 a.m.
Her insides tightened with familiar dread, a curl of nausea making her eyes pop open.Just answer it. Throwing up is a good reason to disconnect quickly.
“Hi, Mom.” Her voice was flat. She didn’t care.
“Good morning, sweetheart!” her mother trilled, voice bright and syrupy-sweet, a voice normally reserved for the club. “I was just thinking about you.”
Of course you were. The daughter who had always been too little and far too much was suddenly relevant, now that she was expecting. “This early?”
“The early bird has the first pick of the worms, dear. And you should be keeping a regular schedule now. It’ssoimportant.”
Now. The word landed softly, even though Lurielle knew how much weight it truly carried.
“Anyway, darling, I was reading an article this morning about how important it is to incorporate grapefruit into your morning routine as early as possible,” her mother went on, evidently uncaring that Lurielle hadn’t solicited diet advice from her in more than two decades.Not ever, actually. “It’ssogood for thelittle one! It’s important to start your day with fiber, and there’s nothing better than vitamin C for staying healthy!”
Lurielle squinted as she listened, wondering what the angle was. Her mother had never cared about her getting enough vitamin C a single day in her life.
“Plus, it’s full of water, so you won’t want to snack mindlessly.”
There it is. She suddenly remembered breakfasts at the club from her childhood. Silver platters of eggs, stacks of stuffed French toast, and there she sat in the midst of it with her mother, each of them with half of a grapefruit and a sad little cherry.She wants to put you back on the fucking club diet from 1999.
“I’m sure your doctor would agree that controlling bloat is going to make you feel worlds better than if you —”
“Actually,” Lurielle interrupted, wondering what possessed her to answer the phone in the first place, “it’s really important to start my day with protein. Fiber, too, but protein is what my doctor is having me track. Because I’m growing a baby. Not getting ready for swimsuit season.” Her words were needlessly pointed, but her mother was the one who’d sharpened the blade over the course of the first thirty-five years of her life.
Lurielle pressed a hand to the swell of her belly, a tautness beneath her skin that already felt like it belonged to someone else. She’d spent the bulk of her life trying to hide her body, being applauded when it was smaller, when she took up less space. Now, though . . . now hermoreness was the star. Pregnancy had turned her body into a conversation she hadn’t started, one she couldn’t seem to exit.
Everyone had an opinion, and they never held back on sharing.
What she should be eating, how much she should be resting, how much weight she should gain, what shoes she should wear. How big she would get, once they learned she was carryingan orc, discussing the state of her vaginal elasticity as if they personally owned a stake in it.
