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Sometimes I notice that a teenager in the family group is present in body – smiling, polite, apparently attentive – but absent. I think, I hope she has found an interstice, made herself some spare time, wriggled into it, and is alone there, deep down there, thinking, feeling.
- Ursula K. Le Guin
Everything’s fine. Do you remember Elide saying that? Everything’s fine.
7 pm. Friday night. A long day. A long day in a series of long days that had started bleeding together, no edge, no real end. Elide felt exhausted, clean to the bone, the kind that sleep can’t fix.
Wandering into her apartment, she dropped her bag on the floor, turned her phone to silent, and started hunting in the fridge for half-assed leftovers. She couldn’t remember lunch. Presumably breakfast had happened (she couldn’t remember it either).
Pressing a palm to her forehead, Elide tried to breathe.
Until a knock sounded at the door, she’d completely forgotten that Lorcan was coming over.
Shit.
Not tonight. Oh dear god, what did he have planned for tonight? The knock sounded again, less patient than before. Louder. Swinging the door open, Elide pinned her third best smile to her face. “Hey.”
“Hi.” Lorcan quickly kissed her, sweeping into the apartment. “I can’t wait till you move in with me. These ceilings are barely taller than I am.”
It might be – and this is just a suggestion, a wild card, an idea straight out of left field – because of the fucking man bun. Elide didn’t say that, but she thought it. Loudly. So loudly that the thought reverberated, echoed, dragged track marks across her skull and against the back of her teeth.
“Mhmm.” She agreed without agreeing, going back to hunting for leftovers.
“What does mhmm mean?” Lorcan asked playfully. Except Elide knew that tone of voice, and Lorcan wasn’t really playing at all. He came to stand behind her, hands covering her hips. Without thinking – exhausted and hungry and goddamned frustrated – Elide jerked away from his touch, going to shove some soup in the microwave. “Babe? What the hell?”
“Lorcan.” She sighed, running a hand through her hair. “I’m just tired, okay? I had a long day at work and now I have a headache. I want to eat my soup.”
“Fine,” he huffed, “but there’s no need to be a bitch about it.” Elide froze. Take a deep breath, take another deep breath, and unthaw. She couldn’t bear another fight with him, not tonight. Lorcan, continuing a spectacular streak of refusing to read the fucking room, muttered, “It’s almost like you don’t want to move in with me.”
Two minutes left on her soup – she just needed to make it two minutes. And apparently that small amount of mental processing qualified as taking too long to respond because Lorcan said, in a sharp, low tone, “You do want to move in with me, right?”
“Yes, of course.” Elide said, a little sharp herself. A minute thirty left on the soup. “It’s just – we’ve been over this, it’s not that simple. I have the lease and then there’s Maureen and – ”
He cut her off, “Yeah, we have been over this. I told you. I’ll pay to break the lease and, honestly babe, Maureen could do a lot better than this place.”
Ding!
Taking her soup out of the microwave with shaking hands (when did she suddenly get this pair of shaking hands?), Elide replied, “Look, can’t we just, I don’t know, talk about it tomorrow or something? Please? I’m tired – you know there’s no way I’m making a decision tonight.” She tried to sound sweet, she tried to smile up at him.
Try. Try. Try.
As Elide set the soup onto the counter, Lorcan pulled her close again, slotting their bodies together, back to chest. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he pressed a scratchy kiss to her cheek, “Alright, but as long as I get to wake up to you in my bed every morning soon, Mrs. Salvaterre.”
Swatting him away, Elide smiled. Just smiled and smiled.
Grabbing a beer out of the fridge, Lorcan said, “Down some Advil and eat fast, remember we have the team’s St. Patty’s day party at Cantori tonight.”
“Oh fuck.” And Elide really didn’t mean to say that out loud. But oh fuck. Not another goddamned club. Another 3 am night. Another Saturday spent soaking her aching ankle. Another another another. She barely resisted the urge to scream. A sharp, small noise might have leaked out between her teeth anyway. “Lorcan …”
“Don’t tell me you’re backing out?” And now he really didn’t sound amused.
“No. I’m just …” She tried to take a bite of soup. She stared down at the spoon. She dropped it back into the bowl, suddenly unable to face the act of eating. “Can’t we do a night in? Beer? Pizza? Netflix and chill?” Winking at him, Elide silently urged, come on, play along with me, spend time with me.
“Elide.” Lorcan set his beer on the kitchen counter with a clink. “We agreed to go. We’d look pretty shitty if we didn’t show up. Like, this is my team – you need to try for them.”
“I know. I know.” She pushed her soup away, trying to summon the energy. “I’m just tired.”
“We’ll get a beer or two in you and you’ll be just fine.”
Sighing, Elide started mindlessly shoving treats in the direction of Heathcliff, Maureen’s cat, who definitely wasn’t allowed on the kitchen counter and definitely came up there all the time. One treat, two treat, one treat, two treat –
“Elide!”
“Hmm?” She straightened up, blinking her way back to the land of the living.
“Were you even listening to me?” Lorcan snapped.
“Yeah, yeah of course.”
“Then what was I saying?”
“Fuck – I don’t know.” Elide shoved her hands through her hair, suddenly so close to tears.
“Why the hell are you getting upset?” Lorcan said, getting upset. “Jesus. All this drama. Get yourself together and stop playing with the fucking cat.” He threw those last words at Heathcliff, voice booming out.
“Don’t yell at the cat!” Elide suddenly snapped back.
“I’ll yell at whoever and whatever I want to until you – Jesus, Elide, leave the cat alone and listen to me.” With one sweep of his arm, Lorcan knocked Heathcliff off the counter.
Elide heard the thump when Heathcliff hit the ground.
She heard his meow. She heard his paws skitter as he got the hell out of there.
Elide froze.
In her mind, she saw it again. And again. And again. Lorcan’s sneering face. Lorcan’s arm swinging out. Heathcliff going right over the edge of the table.
In a voice she hardly recognized as her own, Elide breathed out, “What did you just do?”
And maybe for the first time in a very long time, Lorcan recognized that he stood far from solid ground. Because he tried to laugh it off. “That cat was in the way. It’s not in the way anymore. Besides, don’t the little bastards have nine lives or something like that?” Smile. Wink. “Now, can we please go?”
“No.”
“Excuse me?” Lorcan stared at her shock. “What the hell does that mean?”
“It means – ” Elide tested the words out on her tongue, “ – no. I’m not going.”
Throwing his hands in the air, Lorcan said, “God, you’re such a drama queen. The cat’s fine, Elide. The. Cat. Is. Fine. The only person who has a problem here is you. Now, let’s go.” But she didn’t move, and he turned back to stare at her, eyes narrowing, “Wait, don’t tell me. Is it because the club is owned by that fucking dyke?”
“What?” Elide went still. Still as death. After all, living people are usually seen breathing.
“You heard me.” And now Lorcan seemed to be enjoying himself, throwing the words in her face. “Manon Blackbeak. That fucking dyke.”
“Don’t call her that.”
“Chill out, Elide. I don’t understand why you’re getting all PC on me.”
“Don’t ever call her that.” Elide snapped, her hands shaking.
“Why?” Lorcan snapped right back. “That’s what she is. A dyke who needs to be taught her place in the world.”
“Oh fuck you.”
“I thought you were over this, Elide! Look at you, defending her. Jesus Christ, I knew it, being around her was always too much temptation – you fucking bisexuals can never keep it in your pants.”
Elide suddenly breathed. The force of that inhale hit her like a gun shot, like a bullet breaking through skin and bone and marrow. For the first time in days in weeks in months in years, Elide Lochan breathed. And in that clear air, she looked at the person standing in front of her. Really looked at him.
His red face. His furious eyes. His body, trying to dominate all the available space.
She was tired.
Tired of being pushed around, being told what to do, being told how to do it, being told to smile. She had sworn to herself, sworn, as a fifteen-year-old girl covered in blood and kerosene and gun smoke, that she would never let anyone own her, ever again. She would not let someone invalidate her sexuality ever again. She was done tip-toeing across the glass of her own life. She – and he’d pushed a cat off the counter. He hurt a cat. And he didn’t care.
He’d hurt her.
And he didn’t care.
Elide inhaled. Elide exhaled. Elide inhaled again. Everything inside her was clear. Like clean water without a fracture. She felt tired. She was done feeling tired.
Glancing down, Elide looked at the engagement ring sitting on her finger. She’d always hated rubies.
“Babe?” Lorcan asked, still believing in solid ground.
“Get out of my house.”
“Get … get out? Of your house?”
“Yes.” No hesitation. Elide breathed again. Elide finally breathed.
“I’m your fiancé.” Lorcan spat, like it meant anything.
“No, you’re leaving.” Elide pointed at the door.
Except Lorcan wasn’t leaving.
“This is insane.” He muttered, shoving his hands into his hair, messing up his precious bun. “It’s – you’re insane.”
He still didn’t leave. Elide felt her heart start to jackhammer. Her phone, shit where was her fucking phone – she should have it she needed to have it. Elide never got the time to remember. With one stride, Lorcan stood in front of her and grabbed her wrists, pressing her hands tight against his chest. “Stop this, Elide. I need you to stop this.”
“Let me go.” His grip hurt, shit, it really hurt. “Lorcan!”
He squeezed tighter, to the point of pain. “You need to start making sense.”
“You need to let go.” Elide tried to yank herself away, she tried she fucking tried, but she couldn’t break his hold on her. She couldn’t – her heart hammered against her ribs – she couldn’t – she couldn’t – breathe again.
His grip tightened down. Speaking to himself, like something out of a dream, Lorcan murmured, “We’re going to the party. Everything will be fine. Everything’s fine.”
“Lorcan stop!” Elide fought against his grip, “You’re hurting me!”
“Shut up!” Lorcan yelled back, “Jesus, just shut up.” He shoved her away. He shoved way too hard.
Because Elide’s damaged ankle couldn’t take the sudden force and it collapsed underneath her and she went down. Her back smacked into the kitchen counter and she tried to catch herself but too late, too late, and her ankle crumpled and her body twisted and her cheek bone cracked against the edge of the counter and she hit the floor.
She hit the floor.
Everything’s fine. You remember Lorcan saying that? Everything’s fine.
Too late, too late, too late.
The world spun in place around Elide. Something warm trickled down her cheek. When would the pain hit? She felt no pain. Lorcan looked down at her, his face white.
“Elide …”
“Get out.”
“Do you need me to – I can – Elide…”
She pushed herself onto her elbows. She tasted her own blood. “Get. Out.”
Throwing one last terrified look at her, Lorcan ran. The front door slammed behind him. That was a very loud noise, in this silence. Elide sat there, still dead still, staring at … the spinning world, the spinning world, the spinning world.
Then her body jerked into flurry of action, limbs scrambling, and she lunged for the door, hitting it with a thud and throwing the lock and dropping. Just dropping. Right there against the wood. Elide shuddered, her fingers pressed against the brass deadbolt until the dents in her skin could become scars. Where is the pain? All I feel is pain.
Elide had no idea how long she stayed there. Spinning. Spinning. Blood tricked down her neck and curled into her collarbone, staining her red. Down the hall, footsteps sounded, big footsteps, loud footsteps, and Elide scrambled back, getting as far away as she could, limping and trying to run and failing and limping for everything she had left. Slamming the bathroom door behind her, Elide turned that lock too and she curled low into the bathtub, not daring to move.
Silence.
She couldn’t breathe.
She couldn’t breathe.
The apartment sank into deeper silence.
She couldn’t breathe.
Dimly, against all the chaos, Elide felt something hard in the back pocket of her jeans. Hands shaking, Elide pulled it free. Her phone. Oh. There you are, old friend. I’ve been looking for you.
She – she couldn’t
She needed to – she needed
Please pick up, oh my god, I’ll do anything, just please pick up. Hands shaking harder, she dialed and please pick up god please pick up please pick up I need you I need you to pick up please.
One ring.
Two rings.
Three rings.
“… Hello?”
“Manon!” Elide sobbed her name, voice cracking. “Manon, please don’t hang up Manon please.”
“Elide? What … what’s wrong?”
But Elide couldn’t answer. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t answer. The shaking colonized her body. From Manon’s end of the line she heard a muffled conversation, footsteps, a door closing. She heard Manon say, “El. I’m here. What happened?"
Taking in a ragged inhale, Elide let out something that sounded like a sob. At the sound of Manon’s voice, she just cried. And Manon let her, a patient inhale, exhale, there on the other end of the line.
When the sobs slowed to shudders again, Manon said softly, “El – I don’t need you to stop crying, okay? I just need you to take a breath. Alright? Just one breath.” Elide tried. “That’s it. You can do this. Just one more breath. And another.”
Elide tried. For Manon, she tried. “I think ….” the words came out slowly, from a long way down, “I think I’m having a panic attack.”
“That’s okay. Just keep breathing.”
Elide tried. She tried.
“El …” Manon spoke slowly, like she wasn’t sure what words to say, “What’s happening? Are you alone right now?”
Nodding, Manon couldn’t see her nodding, Elide replied, “I’m … he’s … Lorcan’s gone … he … I locked the doors behind him I locked them.”
The other end of the line went silent. Dead silent.
Oh god please don’t leave me now, Elide didn’t even know that she was saying the words aloud, god please don’t leave me now, until Manon cut off her litany, “El – El – I’m here. I’m right here.”
“Oh. Okay.” Her voice didn’t sound steady at all.
Neither did Manon’s as she said, “El, are you alright? Did … did he hurt you?”
The tremors crawled back up her spine, one by one by one. “I think I’m bleeding.”
“Fuck.” Manon breathed the word. “Do you need me to call 911 – ”
“No,” Elide spat, suddenly vicious, “No Manon, no cops, you know that, no fucking cops.”
“Not the cops, El.” Manon said, her voice soft, soothing. “I know. An ambulance. Do you need to go to the hospital?”
She shook her head again, Manon couldn’t see her, “I – no. I don’t. Manon … I don’t know what to do now.” Any maybe the tears started slipping free again. Maybe she couldn’t stop them, even if she wanted to.
“Do you want me to – ” Manon paused, her breath hitching, her voice hitching, and Elide could see her face right now, picture it so clearly. Manon’s eyes slipping closed, a hand pushing through her hair, biting down on her lip because the words weren’t good enough.
“Will you come?” Elide asked, finishing the sentence that Manon couldn’t bring herself to. “I know I don’t have any right to ask that, I know that but – ”
“Yes.”
“It’s my apartment. I’m at my apartment.”
“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
“But it takes twenty minutes to drive here.”
“Not tonight it doesn’t.”
“Please don’t get arrested for speeding.”
“Who said anything about getting arrested for it?”
And there she was, classic Manon, as familiar to Elide as her own heartbeat. She felt something like a smile curl at the edge of her mouth. She felt an old ache bloom to life in her chest, right there beneath her ribs.
“El?” Manon’s voice broke against the quiet. “You still with me?”
A car door shut. An engine started.
“I’m here. Please don’t … are you going to hang up?”
“Not on my life.”
Closing her eyes, Elide let her head come to rest against the cool tile wall. Her breath slowly evened out. “Thank you.”
“Always, El.”
Everything hurt. Nothing hurt as much as it could. This feels like a start.
“Manon?”
“Yeah?”
“Will you talk to me about something? Anything that isn’t …” this.
“Anything?” Manon paused for a moment, and it was like the last month and a half reared its ugly head, filled every crevice and cavity and space, anything touches everything what about everything since I stood there and fucking destroyed you. Suddenly, it was like that last month and a half hadn’t happened at all. Stitches close a wound, not cover a scar. There we stood at the edge of the ocean, at the end of our road.
Here we stand.
“Anything.” Manon repeated again. And then she gave Elide grace: “Well, about two weeks ago, Lin called Asterin at 3 in the morning, panicking, because she tried a pot brownie for the first time and couldn’t remember where she’d left her phone. The one she was holding. In her hand.”
That got Elide to laugh, a pale, fragile thing. “Umm?”
“Oh yeah.” And was that the sound of Manon smiling, the gesture flickering through her tone? “Except Rin was working that night, and she’d forgotten her phone at home, so it was a very half-asleep Petrah who answered.”
“Oh my god.” And Elide laughed a little harder, body curling around her phone, anchor to chain.
“Now you’re getting the picture. Let’s just say, as a lawyer, Petrah was not amused. As someone who really didn’t expect to be fielding that call at 3 am, she was … slightly more amused.”
“I’m sorry I missed it.” Elide meant that to sound lighthearted, easy, funny. But it didn’t.
And Manon must have felt it too, all the weight hanging around them, all their shit, all these sins, because she replied in a voice that wasn’t quite steady, “Me too.”
The call went quiet, but that wasn’t a bad thing. You’re here breathing. I’m here breathing. It feels like a start.
A car engine stopped. A door clicked open, shut. A – Manon huffed, “Why do you have to live on the seventh floor?”
“Are you taking the stairs? You know there’s an elevator.”
“And risk this call dropping? Sure, Lochan.”
You haven’t called me Lochan in one month and twenty days. I haven’t seen your smile in one month and twenty days. Elide lay her forehead against her knees. God, but I’ve missed you.
On the end other end of the line, Manon went quiet. Then, “I’m here. Apt. 712. One Elide Lochan. Stubborn shit head. My best friend. You know her?”
“Yeah.” Elide closed her eyes. “Sounds familiar.”
“Is it okay if I open the door?”
“You still have your key?”
“Try not to sound so surprised.”
Elide didn’t say anything for one beat, two beats, and then – “Manon, wait.” And she practically felt the other woman freeze. Trying to take a breath, trying to take a real breath, Elide eventually said, “He’s ….. he’s not out there? Is he?”
“No, El. Lorcan’s not.”
“Okay.” She took a breath, a real breath. “Alright.”
“You okay if I come in now?”
“Yes.” And maybe she only imagined herself whispering the word please.
In two separate realities, this call and the world she lived in, Elide heard a key slide through a lock, a door swing inward, and footsteps move across a creaking floor. Manon murmured, “Nice carpet, that’s new.”
“Heathcliff kept throwing up on the old one.”
“Where is the little bastard?”
“He’s – ” oh fuck, Elide pressed her forehead harder against her knees, harder and harder, because what if Lorcan hurt Heathcliff, he’d swept him right off the counter she heard the thud of a body hitting the ground her body hit the ground.
“El?” Manon’s voice broke against the gray haze pouring through her, wave to a storm wall, “Keep breathing for me, just keep breathing.” Just try, Elide. “Are you in your room?”
Try, try, try.
“No.”
Footsteps approached the bathroom, and Elide hung suspended between two realities, unable to move. “Is it okay if I open the door?” And Elide couldn’t find the space in her head to reply. “It’s alright, El,” Manon said softly, “I’ll be here as long as you want me. I’m just going to sit down, okay, and I’ll be right here.”
“You promise?”
“I swear.”
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?” Manon asked softly, so softly.
“For – ” Elide tried not to laugh, the joke wasn’t funny at all. “For this. For everything. I can’t even get myself to stand up.”
She heard Manon sigh and shift, head gently thunking against the wooden door. “You know … actually you wouldn’t know. Because I don’t talk about this.
After I left Iskra – I wasn’t in a good place, mentally. She twisted me. She got me to twist myself. I’d started to believe all the worst things she said about me. I just remember feeling so tired. It was Asterin who showed up at my doorstep one day and dragged me back to her place – I ended up living there for six months.
And there were all these nights when I couldn’t sleep. I was so tired, but I couldn’t sleep. Asterin would come home from DJing and she’d see my light on under the bedroom door and … she’d know. I can’t tell you how many times she sat there, on the other side of that door, and stayed with me. Sometimes we’d talk. Sometimes I’d fall asleep. But she always stayed.
None of this is your fault - not a single fucking thing. You have nothing to be sorry for.”
“Manon.” Elide breathed, unable to comprehend how her heart was supposed to contain everything, everything. “But I do – I have so many fucking things that I’m sorry about.”
“Not tonight, El. Lord knows we have things to talk about. But not tonight.”
“Okay.” She inhaled. She exhaled. She inhaled. “Manon? Will you talk to me about something? Anything?”
“Something.” As Manon mulled the word over in her mouth, Elide held the phone close, hearing her voice and it’s echo through the door, a wave and its aftermath. “Well, Briar finally decided to get the tattoo.”
“Isn’t she terrified of needles?”
“Oh yeah. But I think she finally got sick of Fallin giving her shit in the group chat. And Fallon. And Edda.”
“Where’d she get it?”
“Ankle. Pretty sure she just got straight up wasted afterwards.” And Manon kept talking in a low, soft voice about how the group chat blew up with photos and comments and suggestions and very unhelpful suggestions. And Elide closed her eyes and listened. And she pictured Manon’s own tattoo, the thirteen crescent moons interlocking down her spine. Everyone cousin had one, marked across their bodies, binding them like constellations.
Elide breathed. There, in the flow of Manon’s voice, she felt the gray fog lifting, the weight in her lungs rising, the space to stand and slowly walk to the door. To lay her forehead against the wood. To press her palm there. To whisper, Manon. To turn back the lock.
Elide opened the door. And there stood Manon Blackbeak.
“Hi.” Elide breathed, at a loss for all the words she had ever known.
“El.” Manon’s voice cracked, eyes taking in every inch of her. “Hi.”
+
“You want some tea?”
“Yeah. Um, thanks.” Elide curled deeper into Manon’s couch, pulling the throw blanket around her. Abraxos padded over and snuffled at her knee before hopping up next to her. Curling a hand into his thick fur, Elide murmured, “Hey there, you little bean. Missed you too.” He licked her palm, tail wagging. “Yes, I know that I’m more fun than Manon. Don’t worry, I’m here now.” She got another lick for her efforts.
“Don’t turn my dog against me, Lochan.” Manon handed her a steaming mug of chamomile, the tea she only had because Elide drank it.
Taking a sip, Elide murmured, “Why not? It’s so easy.”
Manon sat in a chair across from her, knees braced on her elbows, their bodies separated by the careful Rubicon of the coffee table.
“What do you need?” Manon had asked, standing there outside the shitty bathroom in Elide’s shitty apartment. And Elide had no words left, none, so she hugged Manon and prayed to god that Manon would hold her back.
She did. She held Elide for the longest time.
“I don’t know.” Elide whispered into Manon’s shirt, the cotton soft under her cheek.
“Do you know what you want?"
“Away. I want away from here.”
“I’ll take you anywhere.”
“Promise?”
“Swear.”
“Can I go home with you?”
“Yeah El.” Manon’s hand twitched against her back, palm smoothing over muscle and bone. “We can do that.”
It all became a soft haze, Elide standing there as Manon set her cold bowl of soup in the fridge, found Heathcliff so that Elide could make sure he was alright, set out more cat food for until Maureen came home from camping with Tim.
Nothing hurt as much as Elide thought it would. Not even when Manon brought over a warm, damp washcloth and gently cleaned the blood trail off her cheek, her neck, the pool of her collar bone.
“How bad is it?”
“Not pretty. But I’ve seen worse.”
“It doesn’t hurt yet.”
“That’s just the shock.”
Oh. Okay then. The pain will come. Perhaps when it does, I will be ready for it.
When Manon walked towards Elide’s bedroom, she said, “Don’t bother. There’s nothing I want from there.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
So Manon draped her own coat around Elide’s shoulders as they walked out the door, the lock clicking shut behind them. Turning back for just one moment, Elide touched her phone, her wallet, her keys. Everything else in the world could burn for all she cared. The world could burn.
“I lost you there for a minute, Lochan.”
“Hmm?” Elide blinked, blinked back to this earth as we know it. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.”
Taking another sip of tea, Elide leaned further against Abraxos’ warm, comforting weight and let her eyes drift across the apartment. So little had changed in the month and a half she’d been gone, the same half-finished paperback on the coffee table, the same picture frames on the bookshelves, the same … two wine glasses on the kitchen counter, used, an unfamiliar leather jacket tossed carelessly over a dining room table chair.
Oh fuck.
Manon had … Manon had been on a date. She’d had a date. Here.
Oh hell.
Elide’s brain played back through the evening, the phone call, that muffled conversation and a door shutting. Her hands shook as she set down the mug of tea, shook, “I should go.”
“What?” Manon replied, clearly not following the topic of conversation.
“I should go.” Elide repeated, like that clarified everything. And she couldn’t stop her gaze from skittering back to those wine glasses, that jacket, and Manon followed the motion, understanding suddenly breaking across her face.
Elide couldn’t breathe. Like a whiteout. Her head became a whiteout.
“El – ” Manon came and knelt before her, nearly touching her before pulling away, resting her palms on her own knees. “El, look at me. Please. Look at me.” So Elide did, because she’d always been helpless before Manon Blackbeak. “It wasn’t a date. Okay? It wasn’t a date. You remember my assistant, Sasha? She came over to discuss a work issue that I don’t particularly want Matron knowing about. Given that it’s a Friday, I refused do this dead sober. I haven’t …” Manon’s hand came up, reaching for Elide before she remembered everything, everything, and lowered it again. “I haven’t been with anyone, since the wedding.”
“Oh.” Elide breathed, unable to meet Manon’s eyes. “Sorry I ruined your work thing.”
“Are you kidding.” Manon cracked a crooked smile, “In what world would I pick work over you?”
“You might not have said that a month and a half ago.”
“Yeah, well, a month and a half ago I was pretty pissed.” Manon replied evenly.
“And now?”
“I told you, we have some things to talk about.” Manon titled her head until Elide met her gaze. “But not tonight. Don’t worry about any of that tonight.”
Taking a deep breath, Elide said something that would have terrified her, except she had no room for terror left in her body. “Will you sit with me?”
Without hesitation, Manon did, and a tension Elide hadn’t realized she carried loosened as Manon wrapped her in her arms. Pressing her lips against Elide’s hair, Manon murmured, “New shampoo?”
“Honeysuckle.”
“It’s nice.”
Lorcan said he didn’t like it. Lorcan can rot in hell.
Shifting to burrow closer to Manon, Elide groaned as a dull ache flared across her back. “Shit.”
“What is it? What happened?” Manon brushed a stray hair off her face, gently cupping the back of her head.
Leaning into the touch, Elide said softly, “It just hurts.”
“Can you tell me where?”
With Manon’s lips still pressed against her hair, Manon’s perfume enveloping her wholly, Elide closed her eyes. She let herself shake. She breathed. “My wrists – we got into this fight and he grabbed me and he wouldn’t let go. I told him it hurt. I told him to leave. He wouldn’t – he, he pushed me and my back hit the counter and, I don’t know. I tried to catch myself, but my face smacked against the counter edge and I fell.”
Manon’s fingers curled at the nape of her neck, curled and held close. “El, I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be. You didn’t do this.”
She just shook her head, brushing a feather-light kiss against Elide’s temple. “I’m still so fucking sorry.”
“Manon … do you think Petrah would talk to me? Tomorrow? Just, like a chat I mean god knows I can’t afford to hire her but – ”
Manon gently cut Elide off, “She’ll talk to you tonight, if you want.”
“It’s nearly 10 pm. On a Friday.”
“She’ll answer.”
Elide closed her eyes. Because this is what Petrah did, what her mother’s entire law firm did. Domestic violence cases, battery, sexual assault. They were the best, the fucking best, and – it would be good to hear Petrah’s voice right now, calm and steady, the soothing warmth of her Irish accent.
“Can you call her?
And so Manon did.
+
Petrah had just finished brushing her teeth when the call came through. Walking over to her work phone, she froze for a second, because god.
Manon.
Picking up, Petrah closed her eyes and softly said, “Please tell me that you meant to call my personal phone.”
“I didn’t. Can you talk?”
“Of course. Just give me one moment.”
Walking into her office, Petrah flicked on a lamp, the pool of amber light pushing back the darkness, and carefully shut the door. Slipping in a pair of headphones, she asked, “What’s going on, Manon?”
“I have you on speaker. El’s with me. It’s … it’s El.”
“Hi Petrah,” Elide chimed in, her voice sounding far from steady, “I think … I need some advice from you. As a lawyer.”
Oh god. Petrah lay her head on the desk, throat going tight. Not her. Not Elide. Dear lord. Petrah walked through the darkness visible every day, but it still struck her like a knife, every time. Pressing a palm against her forehead hard enough to hurt, swallowing down the fear and the grief and the fucking rage, Petrah replied in a calm, even voice, “I’m here for you, Elide. You can tell me anything. You can ask me anything.”
And so Elide did.
She told Petrah everything.
And Petrah – she took very careful notes and she listened and she supported Elide in every way she knew how. And her heart broke, cracks spiraling in from the edges, when Elide cried.
I just want to go home. I don’t even know what that means anymore. I don’t even have one anymore. But I just want to go home.
She explained Elide’s legal options and pretended not to hear when Manon suggested a few less-than legal options. She listened as Elide said no fucking cops, Petrah I swear to god one day I will explain, but no cops. She breathed steady (lord save her, she tried to breathe steady) as Manon said that she’d already checked Elide for a concussion, that the cut on her cheek didn’t need stitches. Just sleep, Elide just need sleep. And peace. And quiet.
“Petrah,” Elide’s voice cracked, “I don’t know what I want tonight. I don’t know if I want to do anything. Legally. I don’t …. I’m just so tired.”
Keeping her voice soft and steady, the way you soothe wild horses, Petrah replied, “That’s okay, Elide. You don’t have to make any decisions tonight. You’re doing just fine. Whenever you want to talk about anything, and I do mean whenever, I am here.”
“Thank you.” Elide replied, clearly trying so fucking hard. “I’ll take the … Manon, will you help me take the pictures? Of the injuries.” Those last words came out tired, so tired.
And Manon’s voice didn’t sound quite steady as she said, “Yeah El, I will.”
“Manon, once you have them, will you email them to me?” Petrah asked.
“Of course.”
“Thank you, Petrah.” Elide said again. “I mean it. Thank you so fucking much.”
“Elide, I’m always here for you. Is there anything else you need from me?”
“No – I,” Elide took a deep breath, “I kinda feel like shit at the moment, but I’m going to be okay, I think.”
“Take care of each other tonight, you and Manon.”
“I’ve got her.” Elide said, and Petrah could hear the old fondness, an aching warmth, curling through those words.
“Right here with you, El.” And it sounded like Manon might have been smiling. For the first time in one month and twenty days, it sounded like Manon smiled.
+
Ten minutes later, a message arrived in her inbox. One new email. Six photos.
God.
+
Four minutes after that, a text arrived on her personal phone.
[Asterin’s Dumbass Sister]
Thank you. For everything.
Wherever this goes, El doesn’t need to worry about the money. I’ve got her.
And that night, when Asterin came home from work 3 am late, 4 am late, she found Petrah still awake and sitting in the kitchen, staring into a cold cup of tea. Pulling Petrah close, Asterin wordlessly pressed a kiss into her hair. "Did something bad happen with work?" A nod yes. "Can you talk about it?" A no. "Alright. I'm here. I'm with you." Running her palms up and down Petrah's back, soothing and slow, Asterin held her close as Petrah tried to remember how to breathe.
+
Elide felt the shower pour over her, warm and soft, letting the water carry away what she could not carry anymore.
Just let me go where the light comes in.
She closed her eyes. She breathed. She felt … lighter, somehow. Like she had finally broken the surface of the ocean. Like she had finally emerged into the air.
The pain had hit. And it hurt her. And she could bear it.
Footsteps padded across the bathroom floor and she heard Manon say, “I’m putting a change of clothes and a towel on the counter. There’s a spare toothbrush in the first drawer on the right.” And then, when silence was the only answer, “El?”
And Elide might have started crying. She might have started laughing.
“El?” Manon walked closer, pulled back when she realized that the shower door wasn’t closed all the way. “Are you alright?”
And Elide was definitely laughing, exhausted and laughing, the water pouring down. What a fuck of a day. What a fuck of a lifetime. “I think so. I have no idea.”
“Do you – ”
“Will you come here? Fuck I know that’s weird, but – ”
Manon stepped into the shower, yoga pants and t-shirt and all. Settling next to Elide on the floor, shoulder to shoulder, she murmured, “Not the weirdest thing we’ve done, El. I remember in college I watched you streak across campus in nothing but neon body paint. You had a very interesting diagram on your back.”
“Thank you for reminding me about that.”
“I think I have a picture somewhere…”
“Don’t you dare.” Exhaling, Elide rested her head on Manon’s shoulder as the water poured through them, clean and clear. “I’ve missed you.”
“I missed you, too.”
Lifting her left hand, Elide watched the ring there flare red. A diamond is nothing but the reflection of the light passing through it. A diamond is nothing. “I don’t want to marry him. I don’t want to be engaged to him.” Twisting the ring off, she let it drop onto the tile floor. It hit with a faint clink, and the sound should have been louder for all the meaning it carried. “I don’t want this anymore.”
Nudging it with her toe, watching the swirling eddies of water, Elide murmured, “Honestly, I don’t know what the fuck to do with it.”
“Well, there’s always the toilet.”
“We can’t flush a diamond ring down the toilet!”
“Why not?” Manon replied. Elide turned to look at her, and there it was, her quick sliver smile, curling like a glint of sunlight at the corner of her mouth. “It’s how we got rid of Asterin’s engagement ring from Alex.”
“Actually,” Elide murmured, “I think I have a better idea. But for tonight – ” she picked up the ring and threw it across the bathroom, not caring where it landed.
“That’s one way of handling it.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’d help you burn down the entire world if you asked me too.”
“Good thing I’ve already got practice,” she replied, resting her fingertips just a hairsbreadth from Manon’s own.
“There’s my favorite arsonist.”
“We have a weird relationship.” Elide tangled their hands together, holding close.
“We really do.” And Manon pressed a kiss, the softest kiss, to Elide’s shoulder. “I’ll let you finish up in here. The guest room’s ready if you want it, or – ”
“Can I sleep with you?”
“Yeah. Yes.” Manon pressed a second kiss to Elide’s shoulder, brief and fleeting and burning like a line of fire. “Always.”
That night, Elide Lochan fell asleep in Manon Blackbeak’s bed, their foreheads nearly touching, their hands twinned together, breath easy and slow. She didn’t dream.