Epsilon
I love you like the saint who kept faith when all was gone.
I love you like I love you, like you never ever saw.
- Clayton Hogermeer
The club smelled like Lorcan.
Elide stepped inside and fell back in time.
The club smelled like Lorcan.
The club smelled like Lorcan.
She tried to breathe. Here’s the problem. Every inhale. The club smelled like Lorcan. Every exhale. Everything she couldn’t change. Punch to the guts. Punch through the lungs. Here’s the issue. She couldn’t breathe.
But Elide Lochan had never surrendered to the gravity of earth, and motherfucker, she wasn’t about to start now.
So let’s do this.
Smiling, even where she couldn’t quite find the energy to try, Elide found Manon and hugged her, let herself get pulled into a kiss, pushed Manon towards the dance floor when it seemed like she was about to ask, you okay?
I’m fine.
Elide did not go dance. This may come as a shock, but being engaged to an abusive piece of shit who loved clubbing did not, in fact, make her any more fond of it. Bit awkward when your girlfriend runs Miami’s club scene.
Watching Asterin tug Manon into a dance, Elide sank down on one of couches in a quieter corner and took a sip of tonic water (just tonic water). Maybe here she could inhale. It would be the lord of all mercies if she could exhale too. When Manon glanced her way, Elide raised her glass with a smile. That wasn’t too hard, because Vesta had just grabbed Lin by the hips and was showing her how to dance, really dance, and Ghislaine was trying (and failing) to drink Sorrel under the table, and Kaya was currently upside down on a stripper pole, and Imogen was video tapping everything.
So Elide smiled. Everything hurt.
She tried to breathe.
Her cheek hurt.
She tried to exhale.
Snap. Crackle. Bam.
She tried to inhale.
A body hit the floor. A body hit the floor. A body hit the floor.
That was her body on the floor.
“Hey Elide.” At the sound of Petrah’s voice, Elide’s eyes snapped open and she quickly scooted over so the other woman could sit next to her. Dressed in a black tank top and dark jeans and Doc Martens, Petrah looked about as ready to go clubbing as Elide felt.
“Hi.” Elide smiled at her. Try Elide. Try.
Saluting her with a glass of whiskey, Petrah took a long drink. Her careful blue eyes tracked across Elide’s face and they didn’t miss a single goddamned thing. “How are you doing?”
“Fine. Not really into the clubbing scene.”
Nodding slowly, Petrah let the lie stand. She took another drink. She gestured to the wild world around them – “It’s not my cup of tea either. We seriously ended up with the wrong women.”
That finally got Elide to laugh. “Tell me about it.”
“You know, Rin and I actually met at a club.”
“Seriously? Like bad rom-com level met at a club?”
“Exactly like that, actually.” Running a hand through her pixie cut, the near-black strands glinting in the neon lights, Petrah said, “I was visiting some friends in London and they dragged me out to, and I quote, fucking enjoy myself for once. Just because I like to be in pajamas with my tea by 10 pm doesn’t make me an old lady.” Beat. “It definitely makes me an old lady.
Anyway. We’re at this shit club – okay, so it was expensive, but between you and me, all clubs are shit. I wasn’t exactly fucking enjoying myself.” Petrah smiled into the memory. “And then there was this woman. She walked in and ignited the room, I swear. I couldn’t look away. She took one look at me and laughed. Didn’t stop laughing either when she grabbed my hands and tugged me into a dance. It couldn’t have been longer than a minute, but I wanted to know every inch of her. I wanted to know everything.
The music stopped and the beat dropped and – she was gone. With a wink, she was just gone. Five minutes later, I look up and see that she’s the new DJ.” Shaking her head softly, Petrah tapped her fingers against the rim of her glass but didn’t drink. “I couldn’t forget about her. Blond hair and dark eyes and … goddamn. One perfect dance.
Two weeks later, I’m back in Miami, walking into my new gym, and there she is. Boxing. Didn’t look half-bad doing it, either. Rin will claim she made the first move because of the club, but I’m the one who went up to her and introduced myself. Goddamned terrifying too, given that she was boxing with Manon. Did not know that they were related at the time.”
Elide snorted a laugh, because oh yeah, Manon was bad enough when you actually knew her. Approaching her and Asterin in the wild? That took a willingness to get clawed.
Knocking back the rest of her whiskey, Petrah’s eyes traced over Asterin as she danced with Thea, laughing under the wonderwall of lights. “God but I love that girl.”
“You old romantic. Go dance with her.” Elide nudged Petrah with her elbow.
Laughing, Petrah replied, “And let her win the bet? I told her I’d hold out until at least 1 am. It’s barely 12:30. Besides – you go dance with Manon.”
“Ankle.” Elide shrugged in reply.
“Is it bad today?”
“Yep.” (I can’t get myself to breathe. My cheek aches. My hand is an aching, formless weight.)
“You want me to get Manon?”
“God no.” Elide waved her hand, waved the sentence away. “I’m not bothering her – she’s enjoying herself tonight. See?” Elide gestured towards the dance floor, but Manon wasn’t there anymore. She … Elide looked around the dark club, craning her neck and … froze. Elide completely froze.
Half-numb, she softly asked, “Hey Petrah? Who’s that Manon’s talking to?”
Glancing up, Petrah probably didn’t mean to say what came out of her mouth. “Oh. That’s interesting.”
Oh. That’s not a good reaction.
Because there was Manon, leaning against the far wall, talking with a woman who looked like she’d just stumbled out of a Victoria’s Secret catalogue.
Here’s the knife. It’s the way this woman leaned in close to Manon. It’s how she laughed, letting her head fall back, exposing the long line of her throat. It’s the way she touched Manon easily, casually, like they knew each other’s bodies all too well.
I don’t really want to know about all of Manon’s exs, do I, Elide had once asked Vesta.
Do I?
Gathering herself back together, Elide asked again, “Who is she?”
“That,” Petrah tapped on the rim of her glass like she wished it wasn’t empty, “is a question Rin is much more qualified to answer.”
“That,” Elide stared Petrah dead in the eyes, “is a question Asterin isn’t here to answer. So who is she?”
Eventually, Petrah replied, “Her name is Alessandra. As far as I know, she and Manon met in law school and have been hooking up when they’re in the same city ever since.”
Oh.
That is interesting.
“Elide – ”
But Elide just stood up. Cracked her neck. Flashed Petrah a smile. “Don’t worry about it. I’m not. Manon would never cheat on me.”
Those are the words that left her body. And Elide believed them. She really, honestly did. As an interesting side note – Elide did not go over to dance with Manon. Elide didn’t go over to Manon at all. And she definitely didn’t notice the way Alessandra made Manon laugh and laugh. Didn’t watch the body language that hummed between them, how goddamned good they looked together – all long limbs and high heels and sleek dresses. Didn’t glance down at her own ruined ankle and third-best jeans and bite back a scream.
You are having a panic attack. That’s what her therapist would say. Find a safe space, a quiet space, to simply breathe. That’s what her therapist would tell her to do. It is okay to remove yourself from the situation. You don’t owe anyone anything.
Stumbling to the women’s bathroom, that safe haven of long cries and drunken nights, Elide slammed a stall door behind her and called her sister. Aelin picked up on the second ring and Elide didn’t even give her a chance to say hi. “Linny.” Goddamned it, she hadn’t meant to start crying. Not now. Not yet. “Linny.”
“Ellie.” Something muffled, and then she heard Aelin murmur, no honey, I’m fine, it’s just Ellie. Go back to sleep.
“Oh god, I woke you guys up, I’m sorry – fuck. It’s almost 1 am. I’m so sorry, I’ll – ”
“Elide. Lochan.” Aelin put on her sternest big sister voice. “Sweetheart. Sweet pea. Honey bunches of oats. Light of my life. Joy of all my days. You can always call me. You think I give a fuck that it’s 1 am? Because I don’t give a fuck."
“Rowan probably gives a fuck.”
“Rowan got a blow job tonight. He’s fine.”
“Ew! Linny!”
“Sorry, sorry. No filter.” And Elide could practically see her sister shrugging. “Now. Love. I’m right here. Tell me what’s going on.”
In response, Elide just managed to get out, “Can I come over? Please. Now?”
“Of course. Of course. Where are you? Do you need a ride?”
“At this club – I’m with Manon and her cousins.” Elide pressed a hand to her forehead, trying to pull it all back together.
The line went quiet. And then, “Are you okay? Did she hurt you? Because I will fucking kill her.”
“I’m fine. Linny, can I just come over?” Elide’s voice cracked. She couldn’t breathe. She could taste Lorcan’s cologne on her tongue, Lorcan on every inch of her. She could see Manon laughing, Manon lighting up under another woman’s touch.
“Yes, yes. Always.”
“Okay, I’m calling a Lyft. See you soon.”
“No way – I’m picking you up.”
“Aelin.”
“Elide Marie Grace Margaret Lochan do not make me say it again. Thank the god I don’t believe in for Find My Friends. I’ll see you in fifteen minutes.
+
There’s something you don’t know.
There’s something Elide didn’t like to talk about. There’s something she didn’t like to think about. But it rang through her body like a hundred brass bells, chiming and chiming. There’s something she's tried very hard to forget.
Lorcan’s voice. After they had sex – and sometimes he’d sleep with her just to prove that she was his – after that, Lorcan would pull her close and kiss her. Lorcan would say that it was good she’d given up Manon.
He would remind her – as if she ever needed reminding – that Manon liked hot girls.
Manon liked girls way hotter than her.
Manon liked girls who had never been touched the way Lorcan touched her.
Elide tried very hard to forget his words. Elide tried very hard to remember that they were not true. Elide could never quite bring herself to say them out loud.
There is a gray mist rising and it drowns me.
+
Moving through the club – a fish in dark waters, let me slip away – Elide spotted Faline and grabbed her arm. She didn’t get knifed or maced or otherwise inconvenienced for her trouble, so that was nice.
“What!” Faline yelled over the thumping music.
“Can you tell Manon I had to go? Sister crisis.”
“What?” Faline yelled again, but Elide was already gone. Speaking to the universe at large, Faline muttered, “Why do I feel like I just got volunteered to be the messenger who gets shot?”
+
Because, Faline, that’s exactly what happened.
+
The ride to Aelin’s took twenty-three minutes. Probably because her sister had decided that basic traffic safety laws were now worth following.
Her mouth tasted like ash.
Her skin reeked of cologne.
Her cheek ached. And ached. And ached.
+
Aelin’s place smelled like home. Sandalwood and fresh coffee.
The second Aelin shut the door behind them, she pulled Elide into the tightest fucking hug. Kissed her temple. Shoved a cat into her arms.
“Sit. I have scones. Rowan made them, so they’re edible. But not, like, edibles. That shit’s illegal and we selectively follow the law in this household. I also have tea, but you look like you need something stronger. Wine? Okay, I saw that wince. It’s coconut water for you. And eat the damn scone.”
Elide ate the damn scone and drank the stupid coconut water and found another cat to snuggle. They purred in her arms like tiny jet engines.
She didn’t talk about it.
And Aelin didn’t ask. She pressed another kiss against Elide’s hair and she didn’t ask.
+
It took Manon way longer than it should have to realize something was wrong.
+
Elide got a shower and washed away everything she didn’t know how to carry.
+
I don’t like these memories.
I’ve tried very hard to forget.
I don’t think it’s working.
+
“Manon!”
Rolling her eyes, Manon murmured, sorry Lis, and turned to look at her extremely annoying cousin. “Faline. What?”
“I need to talk to you for a second.”
“Now?”
“No. In six years. I’m just bothering you now for fun.”
“Whatever.” Manon grabbed Faline’s arm and pulled her to the side. “What?”
“You going to kill me if I tell you?”
“Probably. Spit it out.”
“Jesus. You know, I’ve chased down convicts more pleasant than you.”
Manon just smiled, all teeth.
Giving Manon the middle finger (because Faline was a real fucking masochist), she said, “Elide told me to tell you that she had to go. Sister crisis, apparently.”
“Sorry?” Manon had to blink – because her heart had – Elide had been quiet all night – and now – oh shit – her heart had dropped a beat.
“Elide left.” Faline held up two fingers and mimed walking away. “The club.” Faline pointed at the ceiling. “And told me.” She pointed at herself. “To tell you that.” She pointed at Manon.
Faline had a death wish.
“Fuck.” Manon swore, shoving a hand through her hair. “Fuck.”
“God, I’m glad I’m single. You have fun with that.” Giving Manon a salute, Faline went to go do shots and raise hell, order irrelevant.
+
Stepping outside, Manon took a deep breath in and let a longer breath out. The cool air snapped into her lungs and cleared some of the panic from her head. (Some). Picking up her phone, she nearly dialed, then slipped the phone back into her pocket. Repeated the motion again and again and again.
When she finally did motherfucking dial, it was Aelin who picked up.
Great.
“Blackbeak. What do you need?”
Biting back a frustrated sigh, Manon replied, “Is El there?”
“She’s sleeping.”
“When she wakes up, can you ask her to call me?”
“Sure. If she wants to.”
“Aelin – ”
“Look,” the other woman snapped, “she’s exhausted, I’m exhausted, and I don’t really want to be talking to you right now. So Elide will call you back if she wants to. Personally, I don’t give a fuck. Toodles!”
Aelin hug up.
Damn it. Manon leaned against brick wall of the club and let her head thunk back. God fucking damn it.