At this, the boy turns the pendant, a small finger tracing each letter as if a mystery lingers in the metal.
Antaris.
Time creates order within chaos. Constant and elusive, its passage is noticed most by those standing still long enough to witness the change. Hiram doesn’t care about time’s limitations, convinced it’ll bend to compensate if he pushes hard enough. Like a strategist, he calculates the trajectory of each move. Armed with as many strengths as weaknesses, Hiram keeps his eyes on the parts that don’t fit. The pieces he can’t control.
One such piece is now at school. The other is Simran, his mother, waiting at his kitchen island with a newspaper. She dresses formally, even at home, but today wears a modest floral kurta. If she’s trying to convince him she’s changed, she’s failing. That she let herself in like the house belongs to her proves that. He’s disappointed but not surprised.
“I need to adjust the talisman to stop allowing ineveryimmediate family member.” Carefully schooling his features into impassivity, Hiram passes her on his way to the kitchen. Without pots and pans, ignoring her over a meal isn’t an option.
“You will do no such thing.” Simran has the gall to act like he’s being unreasonable. “I thought we might talk. Over breakfast.”
In an instant, Hiram remembers exactly who she is. How she operates. What she wants. “We have nothing to discuss outside ouroriginal agreement: You take Antaris to school and pick him up. But if you want, we can talk about how you’ve been overstepping.”
Simran’s jaw tenses. “I see Peter told you about the tutor.”
“He’s my best friend and Antaris’s godfather. Of course he told me.”
“Then I suppose there is nothing to discuss.” She clasps her hands. “Give me a tour of the house, darling.”
Simran has as many complaints as comments. According to her, the kitchen, living room, and great room are a good size, but the furniture is too casual. Hiram doesn’t mention that he chose pieces Antaris took more than a passing glance at when they walked through the furniture store. From there, Simran laments the too-small owner’s suite.
“It’s only me.”
The lack of whimsical decor in Antaris’s room and bathroom.
“I hardly know Antaris, butwhimsicalisn’t a word I’d use to describe him.”
The halls that are too narrow and plain.
“Does it matter?”
There are no guest rooms, despite there being three spare bedrooms.
“We haven’t had guests.”
Hiram thinks the backyard will go uncriticized, but apparently the potential for the lake drying up is worth mentioning.
“There are a hundred and fifty rainy days a year.”
Simran is tenacious when she wants something, a trait he’s inherited. What she wants now is for Hiram to be within reach. To accomplish this, she’ll sow seeds of doubt and leave him questioning his decisions. It’s a wash, lather, rinse, repeat of a childhood Hiram spent torn between craving her hard-earned approval and wanting to tell her to fuck off ... respectfully.
“I believe you were far too hasty purchasing this home.” Simran returns to her seat in the kitchen. “You should have moved home for—”
“Reconciliation will fail if we’re under the same roof.”
Momentarily deterred, she reorients by laying out a breakfast prepared by her housekeeper. “I made sure to bring your favorites.”
Hiram has always preferred eggs, toast, and coffee. The plate of sausages, ham, and French toast is a clear reminder of his mother’s consistent inattention and disregard of what he wants. The reminder burns in all the ways he hates.
“Your uncle asked about Antaris.” At his sharp look, she amends, “Cosmos, no. Not your uncle Phillip. He is too busy with his secret genetic case studies in Atlanta. I discourage your father from associating with him. I meant Robert.”
The safer uncle, as far as Hiram is concerned. Robert’s more focused on planting Ellises in as many political offices as possible than he will ever be on discovering Antaris’s roots. “What did he ask?”
“General questions. He wanted to know about his mother, and I made an excuse. I also gave my spiel about his Sight test coming back zero, but I know they will grow curious as he gets older.”
“I’ll cross that bridge when I get there.”
“Your carelessness willnotbe the reason I am shunned from a family I spentyearsin, clawing up the ranks. They finally see me as a pillar. A matriarch. Not an outsider who married into their family. Joining the firm will earn you respect. Your father has a seat on the board he would gladly give you. You can rise to a level where the family will not question you, and it will keep you here. It could even further your career into politics. You can run for mayor of Proventia.”
