Page 49 of His Human Believer

Margaret

Isleep until afternoon and it isn’t sleep, it’s a collapse.

The first thing I do after I awake is reach for my tablet to check on Vidar.

Nothing.

Four messages. All delivered. None read. I scroll back through them, which is a mistake, because they get less casual as they go.

Are you okay?

Where’d you go?

Vidar, just tell me you slept.

And one at midday I would pay a substantial amount of currency to unsend.

I’m not angry. That’s the thing. I keep waiting to get angry and it isn’t coming, because I sat at that kitchen table and watched him realize in real time he’d been pointed at the wrong conclusion for so many years. Mainly I’m worried about him being alone while he’s got to be upset with all of these changes. Why won’t he let me in? Let me help?

Ugh.

He probably hasn’t slept in over a diurnal.

Then I sit up properly and see the chair.

There’s an outfit on it.

Which means Avery came into this room while I was asleep and laid it out and left, and I did not wake up. That tells me something about the state I was in that I’d rather not examine.

It’s white. A tube top and a skort, both white, and a pair of white flip flops set neatly on the floor beneath. I hold the top up. It’s beautiful. It’s also, and I say this with love, an absolutely insane choice of garment for this planet. I have spent eleven diurnals on Tarvos and nine of them have involved a jungle. This will not survive one afternoon without a food stain.

“Avery,” I say out loud to an empty room.

I put it on anyway. Because it’s clearly a gift, and because everything else I own is either filthy or borrowed. And there’s something nice about a friend sneaking into your room to leave you something pretty after the worst night of your life.

I use the cleansing unit and this time program it to blow out my short hair fluffy and silky straight, which I know Vidar likes best. And I even take a moment to apply slightly more makeup than usual. All of this helps me to feel more awake and ready to take on my day.

I slide into the flip flops.

And I go downstairs.

“Good morning! You look nice.”

Avery is in the kitchen and she is much too happy. She hands me a cup of human-style coffee, exactly the way I like. I love her so much. What would I do without Avery and her family?

I take a sip of coffee. “It’s afternoon,” I point out.

“Is it?”

She’s dressed. Not house-dressed, but properly dressed, in something teal with actual jewelry, and her hair is done.

“Why are you dressed like that? Are you going somewhere?”

“I’m always dressed like this.”

“Avery.”

Mitry comes tearing around the corner wearing a nice dress with a ribbon in her hair. “Aunt Margaret, I have a ribbon.”