Her little wing, at long last, was taking flight.
Part 3
The Shape Of Regret
Ris
She hadn’t realized how desperately she needed a win until one found her.
Eighteen people. It wasn’t Cevanorë, but compared to the pathetic showing she’d managed to pull for the first try, this felt tremendous.A win is a win, and we’re going to take it.
She woke that morning long before her alarm. Her sleep had been fitful the night before, as it always was when she had something important scheduled for the following day. She’d always been that way, ever since childhood.
The light outside the bedroom window was still thin and gray, the city itself not yet fully waking. Ainsley slept beside her, flat on his back with an arm thrown across her pillow, his other arm bent, hand partially covering his face. The tips of his tusks pressed lightly into his wrist, leaving an indent he’d have all day.
Ris propped herself up on an elbow, looking down at him with a soft smile. He looked younger when he slept. His hair had grown out to a shaggy dishevelment, and he insisted it wasso closeto being ready for a style. His brow was unfurrowed, hisfeatures slack. In his dreaming state, he was still the Ainsley that only existed now in photographs and memories.
Which was fine, because the Ainsley he’d grown into was one she loved just as fiercely.
Lowering her head, she pressed her lips to his, whisper-soft, not wanting to wake him. It was his midweek remote day, and he never started early.
Lying back down against her own pillow, she raised her hand, threading her fingers with his behind her head, as she stared at the ceiling, her heart already ticking too fast.
Today was the day. She would have to suffer through work somehow, suffer through the endless hours of employees who couldn’t follow directions, who delighted in pushing the envelope, who made the mistake of assuming that contacting HR was like going to the principal’s office.
After work, she would go straight to the community center. She wanted to access the room as soon as she could to have everything set up and ready long before it was time.
Ris wasn’t sure if she had ever wanted anything to work more than this.
“Be honest,” she’d moaned to Ainsley the night she’d posted her online application. “It sounds like I’m starting a cult, doesn’t it?”
He looked up from his guitar, cocking his head for a moment, considering.
“I think that depends. Are you providing robes? If yes, then I would say yes, that definitely sounds cultish. If you’re telling members they have to provide theirownrobes, then it’s a cult, but it’s a shitty cult. But I feel like, if you’re keeping things robe free . . .”
Ris stuck her tongue out at him as he grinned, ducking his head, moving his eyes back to his composition book.
“What do you think, Fitz?”
The greyhound turned his eyes to her at the sound of his name, ears perking. Fitz stared up balefully, offering no opinion on whether her flyer sounded like she was starting a cult. The name she’d been casting for had come from Fitz in the end.A soft place to land. Wasn’t that what they all needed?
It was amazing what time and patience had done. He had gone from a dog afraid of his own shadow, afraid of them, to a piece of Velcro. He followed them from room to room, Ainsley most especially. Wherever they sat, he was curling himself into a long, grey comma beside them, putting his head in someone’s lap.
She had been late coming home several months earlier, her luck sailing through the backup on the highway running its course. She was already leaving the office late, and the unexpected backup had set her behind more than an hour.
Ainsley hadjustgone back to the band. Ris had been the one to insist upon it, afraid that if he gave up too much, he would never go back, and she didn’t want him to lose any more of his sparkle. She had assured him and reassured him that it would be fine; she was home before he left anyway. Always had been. Always was, except for that night.
The evening wound up being a carnival of bad luck. Her phone was dead after the extended day at work, and the charger normally kept in her work bag was not there. Ris could close her eyes, envisioning it perfectly, beside the sofa, where she had pulled it out a few nights prior, feeling too lazy to walk all the way to the bedroom to retrieve the charger that was there. She hadn’t realized it until she was already on the road.And your car charger is in his car.
The guilt rode shotgun the entire way back into the city, her stomach twisting over the fact that she wasn’t where she said she would be. She had no way to contact him and let him know she was running late, had no idea if he had skipped band practicebecause of her, had no idea if Fitz was sitting in the apartment alone, howling his little head off.
There was never a night now when one of themwasn’thome. It was a complete reversal of their previous go-go-go lifestyle, but Ris found that she preferred it. It finally felt like they werelivingtogether, building a life together within those four walls, rather than just inhabiting the same space for a few hours at night and passing in the doorway. No one was more shocked than she.
She burst into the apartment that night in a full-blown panic. It was already dark out, and when she swung open the front door, her heart had sunk to see the apartment also cast in dim shadows. He’d left for rehearsal, assuming she would be walking through the door behind him, when it was still light.
“I’m home,” she had called out to the empty rooms, almost shrieking when she saw a looming shape before her at the end of the hallway. Fitz had been standing there , silently, all alone . . . but his tail had wagged when he saw that it was her.
He had never wagged his tail for her before that moment.
