Thanks for nothing.
She nearly flipped her plate over as she laughed, hunching on the sofa. They were still in the same building at work, they stillhad time to see each other in the breakroom, but with Lurielle’s wedding and pregnancy, her own move to the city . . . everything had changed. Soon, Lurielle would be out on maternity leave, and then what would she do?
Fortunately, the phone buzzed again before she had a chance to get too deep in her feelings.
I miss you too!
I worked from home this whole past week
Turns out morning sickness is a misleading name.
I’ve been projectile vomiting morning, noon, and night
And the doctor said that’s normal!
We’ve been lied to our whole lives.
Ris paused, taking another bite of her lasagna, chewing thoughtfully. They hadn’t had a conversation about what would happen after the baby arrived. She wondered, feeling guilty for even being worried over the answer, if Lurielle would decide not to come back to work.
Before she even considered if it was her place to ask, the phone buzzed again.
I promise I’m not going to become one of THOSE mom friends
The ones who can’t talk about anything or go anywhere if it’s not baby-related
You have to promise you’re going to come back and drag me out of the house sometimes during my leave.
I’m already tired of talking baby shit and they’re not even here yet.
Ris tipped her head back, feeling the burn of tears threatening her eyes. Shemissedher friends. Their lives had all changed so much in such a short time.Fucking Tate. She was out in Bridgeton now, Lurielle was married and pregnant, and Ris knew that even if Lurielle didn’twanther life to be subsumed by her marriage and her baby, it was nearly impossible to preventit. Silva had left town and not looked back, but Ris remembered how empty Silva had seemed behind her once-sparkling eyes before she did so.
She missed her friends, and all her attempts at making new ones had failed so far. She was falling into the exact situation that had made her so resistant to a relationship in the first place — Ainsley was all she had right now, and she was lonely.
EvenwithAinsley, even as much as she loved him and wanted to be there for him and with him for every single grain of sand in his tiny vial. She loved him with her entire heart, and there was no one else she would choose to be at her side . . . But loving him wasn’t enough to fill the hole that had begun to form at her center several years earlier.
All of her hobbies, all of her classes, they kept her busy, but it was all so . . .transactional. Her life was full of empty exchanges. Time for time, presence for presence. She and the others showed up when the calendar told them to do so, followed the script of their activity, and left. She was lonely just thinking about the future, and the future was all she thought of anymore.
You’re going to have a point of reference eventually.What will you do when he’s gone, and you have no one? When you’re the only one left?
Not the only one, she corrected. Lurielle and Khash were in the same boat.
Ris wished, not for the first time, that they had a club of their own. Something unlike Cevanorë. A club not entirely dissimilar to their grandmothers’ worlds, but one that held place for the misfits like her. Like Lurielle. Like Dynah.Like Silva, if Silva even is Silva anymore.
She thought of the elves she’d known over the years who'd quietly disappeared. Elves like Silva, who ran away. Elves like Dynah, who didn’t fit the shape required to stay visible.
A place where they could exist, where they could live their authentic lives without judgment, where they would have camaraderie once they were the only ones left, all that remained of the Cambric Creek community of today. Something that wasn’t just an activity, that was more personal than a calendar entry.
Swiping on the tablet's screen, she quickly opened her notes app.
A place to exist — no audition necessary. No pricey membership, no waitlist. Coffee. Clubs. Classes. Community. Childcare, she added, thinking of Lurielle with a grin.Elves AND nymphs. Sylvans. Room to be messy. Room to be real. Room for grief. Her throat caught as she added that last one, thinking of Silva, wherever she was. Thinking of herself.We need a place for all of us. Someplace to grow old together when we’re all that’s left. Somewhere to belong.
Her phone buzzed again, Ainsley this time.
Miss you. You’d better save me some lasagna.
The sound that came out of her was nearly a sob,echoey in the apartment that was too empty without him in it. She loved him more than she’d thought it was possible to love another person.
Love wasn’t enough to fill her whole cup, though, and she was finally ready to admit that aloud. To herself.In therapy, which is where you’re supposed to be talking this shit out. It wasn’t enough to fill the hole inside her where that rasping sand lived, a reminder of the yawning expanse of years before her . . . butthismight.
