Chapter 30
The library looms large as Dani approaches. She’s never really considered it to be big before – after her time in university and the extensive library there, no others have really quite compared in size or depth. In fact, the local library is quite small, with a selection of books that she quite enjoys but is really in a sense of need. But today, it feels larger than it actually is, given height and depth just from the anxiety thrumming in the pit of her stomach. Her hands wind together, fingers twisting against each other, as she walks closer.
This isn’t like when she approached Henry before her journey to Bly. That job position had been open for six months – the entirety of her stay in Britain up to that point – with no gap in weeks between its postings. No one was interested in working at Bly, and the worst of it was that it had still taken her six months to work up the gumption to interview for the job while dealing with Eddie’s ghost haunting her at every step.
Of course, she had done it anyway, but there had been time to prepare, time to test and control her reactions to the haunting as much as possible before meeting with Henry and going to Bly.
Here, there has been no time. There has been no posting. There is no guarantee that what she is doing is wanted or even needed, and beyond that, there is no reason to expect that the boy’s father will be appreciative of her offer in the first place. The only thing she has to go on is the word of that girl – older than Miles had been, when she first went to Bly, but likely close to his age now – and if she knows anything about children (and she likes to think that she does), the word of a child (or teenager, as the girl may be) is not always very much to go on.
Dani takes a deep breath to steady herself and then winces as she feels the now quite familiar pressure begin at the base of her skull and wander across to that space between her eyes. That does not help. “Now is not the time.”
I gave you ten minutes. Am I wrong?
It has been much longer than ten minutes, but Dani doesn’t feel the need to correct her. Instead, she feels the pressure build behind her eyes and then disappear. A bubble of anger ripples beneath her skin. It has been longer, and you did not call for me when it was time. Do not lie to me.
“It will be time when we are inside. It isn’t time now.”
The anger sputters but doesn’t quite die out. Dani can imagine the ghost crossing her arms and staring at her. She would far prefer to have this conversation in that void (more, she would prefer to have it in Viola’s room), but that would require being somewhere she can sit without having to worry about interruptions. Trying to do that while walking? Impossible.
Dani takes a deep breath. “When do I normally tell you to come out?”
When we’re in the library.
“Are we in the library now?”
There is some slight, incomprehensible mumbling before Viola finally says, Close enough.
“Look, I’m not going to act any different just because we’re meeting someone. I would have gotten you once we were safely inside.” Dani presses her lips together. This close to the library, there are other people on the sidewalk next to her – well, person, in this case – a woman about her age, maybe even younger, with shockingly blonde hair, bright brown eyes, and legs that could go for days. If anything, Dani is surprised that she is wearing shorts that short in this weather, but it’s the semi-transparent robe that flows past the shorts that seems most out of place.
Not that she can say anything, given that the woman is giving her an odd look. Probably because she heard her talking to herself. Which, outside of the given context of the library, is odd. Dani offers the woman an awkward smile and raises her hand, waggling her fingers, but the woman just scoffs at her and pulls ahead and away.
Dani winces. “Viola, I can’t talk to you out here.”
Whyever not?
“People are looking at me funny,” Dani hisses. “It’s not good for someone to be arguing with themselves in public. They’re going to think I’m crazy.”
You’re not crazy. There’s a pause before Viola says, Why don’t you just explain that you have someone else living inside you? That should clear everything up.
“No, that would make it worse.” Dani shakes her head, pinches the bridge of her nose, and then takes a deep breath as she walks into the library. “I’ll talk to you later. After we meet with the kids’ dad. I’m not going to be able to talk to you during, or he’s not going to let us teach his son. He’s going to think we’re – I’m – crazy and a danger to his kids. Do you want him to think that?”
No.
“Good. Play nice.”
There’s that indistinct, incomprehensible muttering – some sort of reply under Viola’s breath – and then silence, other than that trickle of rage still bubbling under her skin, a feeling that Dani can’t make disappear. The thing is – Dani still isn’t sure this is a great idea. She hasn’t said that to Jamie (partly because she’s certain her partner could pick up on that without her saying anything, partly because she doesn’t want Viola to hear her say it (and she doesn’t always know when Viola is listening in)). There hasn’t really been time to consider whether teaching this boy to read with Viola around is in his best interest. Sure, Viola has been doing better, and sure, she hasn’t been a temple of constantly burning rage who indiscriminately kills whoever encounters her – but that part of her does still exist, no matter how low Viola has pushed it away and hidden it. Dani knows that as sure as she feels that rage bubbling beneath her skin now.
That is what makes her wary about this whole proceeding. Just because Viola has been good doesn’t mean she can’t be bad, and given how bad she can be, spending time with children is probably not the best idea.
But Dani isn’t going to reverse her decision now. She was the one who had suggested she teach the boy, not Viola. To back out now would be to likely cause irreversible damage to whatever companionship she’d been building with Viola. The rage that only barely singes her blood now would grow. She can’t take that risk either.
Which puts her at an impasse.
Dani takes another deep breath as she moves to the children’s section of the library, trying to steel herself. Then she sits in the same chair where Viola usually sits, clasps her hands together in her lap, and scans the room. The children don’t seem to be here, which means their father likely isn’t either. That leggy blonde woman is, however, and she stands next to a man with an outcrop of dark, dark hair and the beginnings of a stubbly beard. The woman tangles her arm around his and leans against him, pressing a kiss to his cheek.
Ew.
Dani turns away from the two of them. There’s something uncomfortable about such public displays of affection in a library. She can deal with them pretty much anywhere else, but the library feels a little garish to her. People come here for seclusion and research, and this isn’t a college library where students shack up in study rooms or against bookshelves just for the thrill of it. Maybe people do that in normal libraries, too. She shudders at the thought.
They aren’t here yet, Viola says, her voice echoing in Dani’s mind, a nice reprieve from the clinging the blonde is still doing out of the corner of Dani’s gaze.
“They might not come at all,” Dani says under her breath, as quietly as she can. “This man, whoever he is, might not want to meet with a perfect stranger that his children found at a library. He might prefer an actual tutor.” She closes her eyes and finds herself in that void of an area right behind her eyes, where she knows that Viola has been paying attention.
Viola has her arms crossed, her white night gown draped about her as she paces to and fro. (Dani wonders, briefly, why she has never seen Viola in anything else but decides now is not the appropriate time to ask about it.) She pauses as she notices Dani standing there, and her eyes sweep her carefully. “I thought you said we couldn’t talk. Didn’t want to appear crazy.”
“I thought we could talk in here.” Dani presses her lips together. “When they get here, they’ll say something, and I can go back. But you’re anxious, and I thought—”
“I’m not anxious,” Viola interrupts. “I’m not. It’s different.”
Dani stares at the ghost – at her crossed arms, at her pacing, at her stern look – and nods. “Not anxious. Impatient, then.”
Viola flushes, the pale skin of her cheeks darkening as blood she does not have rushes into them, but she doesn’t look down or away in embarrassment. Instead, she hold Dani’s gaze as much as she can. She holds still, too, pausing in her what seems like ceaseless pacing. Bu she doesn’t correct her at all, doesn’t tell her precisely what she’s feeling, although Dani’s sure that if Viola gave it any sort of thought, she would know the precise – if archaic – word for it.
But before Dani can say anything (good or bad or neither), a child’s voice from far away – farther than it would be if she were fully in control of her body and not just in this void space in the midst of her mind – comes, excited. “She’s here! She’s here!” Dani looks away from Viola, to the portals of sight mimicking her eyes, where she can just barely see the image of the boy from the day before with the girl who must have been his sister. He tugs on the girl’s arm with a bright grin.
“I’ve got to go,” Dani says, turning back to Viola briefly. “Stay here. Don’t interrupt.”
Viola rolls her eyes much in the same way that a petulant child does when their mother tries to tell them to do something they have very little intent of doing in the first place. “Go, go.” She waves one hand, flicking her away. “I’ll just stay in here and watch, why don’t I?”
Dani doesn’t take the time to respond, instead willing herself back to her rightful place. She returns to find the boy staring up at her, a bright grin on his face. She smiles at him and reaches down to tousle his hair. “Well, hello there.”
The boy blinks at her a few times, confused. His sister rushes after him and grabs the back of his shirt, pulling him away. “Raf,” she hisses, “you can’t just annoy people like that!”
“Wasn’t annoying her,” Raf says with a pout. “Did the same thing yesterday, and she didn’t mind at all.” He looks back up at Dani. “Right? Didn’t bother you at all?”
“No,” Dani answers, offering him her warmest (but not brightest) smile. “You didn’t bother me at all.”
“See?” Raf glares at his sister and sticks his tongue out at her. “I know what I’m doing, Lu.”
Lu, Dani thinks. That can’t be her real name; it has to be a shorthand for something. She can’t guess what. Her gaze lifts and focuses on the young girl. “You said that your father would need to talk to me, right?” she asks, a gentle sort of prodding. “Is he here?”
The girl – Lu – glances away from her, and Dani follows her gaze to the couple she had previously been avoiding looking at: the leggy blonde and the man with the shock of dark, dark hair and the beginnings of stubble. She tries not to grimace, but fails and hides the expression as Lu turns back to her. “You want me to get him?”
Dani starts to nod, but as she does so, the man turns toward them, dark eyes scanning until he finds his daughter where she stands. As much as she has been under-impressed by the blonde woman hanging on his arm, she has to admit he cuts an intimidating figure – not attractive in the slightest, not for her, but full, somehow. A man who knows what he is and how to be. However, she can’t help but think that he would look better bald. More intimidating. More…more, somehow.
“Luisa,” he says, and his voice cuts across to them, even though he is barely speaking. “What have I told you about bothering strangers?”
Lu – Luisa, Dani thinks, filing away the girl’s real name for later – turns back to her father, lips pressed together. “She’s not a stranger,” she lies a little too loudly for the library (one of the librarians turns to her with a finger over her lips, the sound of a strong shush on their tip). Then she turns back to Dani and says a little quieter, “We met you yesterday. That’s not as strange as someone we haven’t met yet.”
It’s flawed logic, but it’s a child’s logic, so Dani accepts it.
Her father’s gaze moves from Luisa to his son, who is still tugging on Dani’s pants leg in an attempt to get her to let him crawl into her lap. Then he gives a firm singular nod and begins to approach them. The leggy blonde starts to walk with him, but the man untangles his arm from hers and gives her a strong look. He doesn’t even say anything. When he starts forward again, she stays where she is, leaning back against the counter with her arms spread, popping pink bubblegum as she waits.
I can deal with him, Viola says in the back of her mind. I’ve dealt with this unique brand of—
Dani ignores her as much as she can as Viola continues. She can’t say anything to her now – to do so would give a hint to the children that something was wrong with her, and their father would likely think she was saying something to them and ask about it later. Not worth it. Even if it would get the ghost to be quiet.
Instead, Dani places a hand on Raf’s shoulder, stilling him, and stands, ready to begin whatever conversation their father wants to have. He’s taller than her – a full head taller than her – and the closer he gets, the more she has to tilt her head back to meet his eyes. She, too, is strong. Much stronger than people think she can be. The question is whether her strength will help here or not.
Calling on Viola to help is not an option.
“You must be Raf’s dad,” Dani says, interrupting the rambling that Viola continues in her mind, silencing her, and reaches out her hand. “It is such a pleasure to meet you.”
“Rafael,” the man says – less a correction and more of a command for his son to return to his side. Raf – Rafael – hangs his head and grips Dani’s pants leg in his little hand, giving it a squeeze, before going over to the man. Luisa doesn’t need the command; she is at her father’s side in an instant, beaming up at him – all smiles, no matter how intimidating the man might seem. She wraps her arms around his waist and buries her head in his chest. Her father runs a hand through her hair, and she turns outward from him to face Dani, still leaning against him.
His children at his side, the man reaches out his hand and takes Dani’s in his own with a firm grip. No shake, just that grip, unmoving and implacable. “Emilio Solano,” he says by way of introduction, his dark eyes staring at Dani as if they could bore into her. “And you are?”
“Dani,” she says, very matter of fact, trying to give his hand one good shake and failing. “Dani Clayton.” She releases his hand, even though it feels more like he is releasing hers, and offers him the nicest parent-teacher smile she can. It’s one she feels like she’s perfected over her time working with children’s parents, and it’s a smile she very rarely – if ever – offers to the children themselves. It isn’t meant for them. It won’t do much for them. “Should we move outside? Wouldn’t want to bother anyone else in here by talking.”
Luisa looks up at her dad, presses her lips, and then glances over to Dani with a little shake of her head. It isn’t out of any attachment the girl has for her – point of fact, Dani is fairly certain she just makes Luisa uncomfortable – but there’s something else in her eyes, something like fear. Of her dad?
Dani clenches her hands and then lets them go.
“No. Here is enough. You – I – we will be quieter here.” Emilio gestures her away from the children’s section. “I am sure you have found a table in here where we can sit and speak without having to reduce ourselves to such menial positions.” His gaze roams over the children’s table in the back corner, with the chairs built for children’s sizes, covered with books and a few wooden toys where dinosaurs or foxes could be matched to their proper shapes. Then it returns to her, lingering expectantly, brows raising. “This is your library, isn’t it?”
That doesn’t mean I know where everything is, Dani thinks, gritting her teeth together. She’s very rarely in the library for any long periods of time. Usually she knows exactly where she wants to look for a book – whether she’s binge-reading through a particular author or comes with one in mind – and doesn’t take much time to explore other areas. She knows that there are tables at different intervals next to the rows of books, but if asked which rows end with a table, she wouldn’t know.
You’re useless.
Dani feels a cold touch in the center of her forehead – it feels as though it is external, even though she knows it is nothing like that at all. Instead, it is a touch from within, and wherever she is in this mindscape of her brain, that part of her crumples and is forced back and away, until she finds herself in that room of Viola’s, the door firmly shut. She takes a deep breath, trying to still herself, and tries the door.
Locked.
Of course.
Dani pounds on the door. “Viola! Let me out of here! You need me!” She takes a deep breath, staring at the walls of the room, and pulls herself to the bed, feeling as though the walls are closing in on her. “Let me out!” she yells again. “This isn’t funny!
“Viola!”
You know – of course, you know; it is impossible for you to not know – that your host is less than pleased with your current arrangement. Her hands ram against the center of your chest, just where her heart should be, but you are stronger than she is. You know this. You have always known, somewhere in the back of your mind, even though you haven’t thought about it.
Before now, you have had no real reason to use this power of yours, with the exception of the fight Jamie had with Owen so long ago. Even then, it had been used in an attempt to assuage fear with no real intent to impede your host in any way. You hadn’t seen it as a problem. You were only trying to communicate in the best way you could.
This, however, is of an entirely different sort. You aren’t trying to learn how to communicate with your host or her friends, as you have already found a way to do that. You aren’t trying to comfort anyone; in fact, your actions have probably only soured your host against you (an unfortunate necessity, given the situation). You aren’t trying to help anyone, other than yourself. Possibly your host, by association.
The thing is that you know this sort of person. You dealt with them often during your life, although you can only remember vague details – nothing specific. He is a vulture, one who will gaze over and try to pick out what he can gain without a second thought to the very real person sitting across from him, and if he decides that there is no worth in her, then he will leave just as quickly. The vultures you knew – you suspect they were of an elite sort of class – even they bowed to your will, in the end. You just had to play the part first.
You were very good at playing the part.
When you were alive, that is.
You learned to hone your ambition and your will into a fine point, meant to disarm and dispatch those lesser beings in front of you. If he wants to try to peck at you or your host at the expense of his children, then he will find himself laid bare before you.
Your host – Dani – no matter how strong she believes herself to be, this is not a battle she will win. Her temper over the children will get the best of her. Yours will not get the best of you.
“Of course,” you murmur, as placating as you can be. You lead him away from the children’s area to one of the other tables. You know this library – not as well as you know your host’s house, perhaps, but better than your host does. You are, in fact, the one in control of her body here more often than not. “Would you prefer I refer to you as Emilio or Mr. Solano?”
The question gives him a sense of control. A false one, to be certain, but one all the same.
“Emilio will be fine.”
The table closest to the two large windows in the back is free, so you take that one. Emilio doesn’t seem like the sort of person who lives here – not that you have much interactive experience with those sorts of people, only what feels like thousands of hours of seeing them interact with Dani and Jamie at their flower shop. You sit at one end, just in front of the corner, so that the windows are more of a feature than you are. In fact, the light from the windows actually casts you in shadow, something that you could have used more to your advantage if you were more comfortable in Dani’s body and what she is wearing, but that provides use all the same.
Emilio sits at the opposite end of the table without your needing to gesture for him to do so, and the kids flock to the two remaining chairs. Luisa takes one of them and scoots it closer to her father, while Rafael tries to get up into his and fails. Luisa sighs and grabs her brother, lifting him into her lap.
That tells you everything you need to know.
“Ms. Clayton,” Emilio begins by way of broaching the conversation.
You wave one hand at him. “Dani, please.”
“Dani, then.” Emilio clasps his hands together and places them on the table in front of him. You suspect that most men would hunch over at this point, but he doesn’t. If you were in your own body, you are sure that you would cut the same intimidating figure that he does, holding the same height as such, but it is harder to try and mimic that with Dani’s body, which is much smaller, more lithe. “Luisa tells me that you want to tutor my son.”
You offer him a soft smile, your hands clasped together beneath the table. “Rafael asked me to read to him yesterday,” you begin, and you give Rafael an encouraging smile, which he readily returns, “and on learning that he has trouble doing the same himself, I thought it would be wise to offer. I was a teacher of children just like him once, and it would be no trouble at all to oblige you now.”
One of Emilio’s brows shoots up – perhaps at your language, which must seem a little stilted and formal to him. Ah, well. There is not much you can do about that. “If you were a teacher before, why aren’t you a teacher now? It seems to me like it would be in your best interest to go where the money is greatest.”
Ah. One of those.
You give him a little nod, but as you do so, you release whatever your power has been doing to hold you host in place. Immediately, you feel her presence right behind your eyes, although she does not take your place. Perhaps she cannot. You are unsure.
Viola, what the hell! Don’t ever do that to me again—
“You are unwise to assume that I would make the most money by teaching great groups of children.”
You feel Dani raise an eyebrow, and you can imagine her staring at the man across the table from you. He’s got that right. Teachers don’t make much of anything. If he thinks otherwise, he is sadly mistaken. She pauses, then continues, Tell him I’m not interested in making money by teaching. I care more about the kids than I do about that. You can feel her glaring at you. It would be best if you let me explain myself—
“I would do this for free,” you continue, phrasing your host’s words in a way that is certain to appeal more to the man across from you. If money is his concern, then its absence from this equation will seem good to him. “I have more than enough to take care of myself already. This would be out of the kindness of my heart.”
Ugh, Viola, he’s going to think you’re a creep. Dani sighs. We’re not planning on kidnapping his kids, and I haven’t been tutoring other kids, so—
“We can meet here, in the library,” you continue. “There’s plenty of space here for teaching, and plenty of books to choose from. The librarians will make sure nothing too untoward happens.”
Emilio considers this. “Do you have any references?”
“Of course,” you answer, although you have no idea what he means.
Let me handle this, Dani hisses from where you are. I know what he means, and I know you don’t. You imagine her crossing her arms, fingers tapping on one of them. Give me my body back.
You want to tell her that polite young women amend that statement with a please, but she has warned you of how it would look to speak with her while others are watching. You do not want to risk it.
You return.
Dani takes a deep breath – gasping, halting – as soon as she returns to full control of her body. She knows she looks panicked – knows that there is no way that this could possibly be good for the family across from her – but right now, she doesn’t quite care. This whole operation has to end. If Viola’s just going to push through and take control of her and lock her away just to spend time with these kids, then—
Why would she think that Viola wouldn’t step in to stop her? If she was really
going to try and turn Emilio against her, why wouldn’t Viola force herself forward?
How can she, in the little time she has, change things so completely that
Viola won’t be able to recover?
She doesn’t know. There are a lot of things. Maybe—
“Here.” Emilio pulls a piece of paper out of his pocket, along with a pen. It’s a little more haphazard than she would expect someone of his assumed prestige to be – a ballpoint pen could burst at any point and cover his white pants with black ink – but maybe he has the money to easily replace them if that should happen. “I have actually been looking for a nanny for my children. Luisa tries,” he continues, and his daughter looks up at him with large, doe eyes, “but a thirteen year old is not the same as an adult.” He looks up at Dani, meeting her eyes, and his expression shifts as he takes in her panicked expression. “Is something wrong?”
Yes.
“No,” Dani says, forcing herself to smile. “No, no, nothing’s wrong. I have a minor anxiety disorder, that’s all.” The lie is easy on her lips, far easier than trying to explain everything with Viola would be.
What are you doing?
Dani continues, “That’s why I don’t teach anymore – I’ve learned to control the fleeting moments of panic, but having them in a room full of children? Not exactly the best thing, you know?” She quickly writes down Henry’s name and the most recent number she has for him. “I have other references, too,” she says, glancing back up and meeting Emilio’s eyes, “but Henry is the most recent.” She writes down another number and taps it. “This is my number, in case you need it.”
But Emilio’s expression hasn’t changed. If anything, it has gotten worse throughout her explanation. He takes the paper and pen from her and stuffs them into his pocket the same way she might a candy bar wrapper that she intends to throw away later once she finds a trash can.
“Is something wrong?”
“My mom struggled with that,” Luisa says, her voice squeaking the tiniest bit. She wraps her arms a little more tightly around her brother and rests her head on top of his.
Emilio shoots her a look, and Luisa abruptly stops, her lips pressing together. She doesn’t look up. Rafael, bright-eyed, looks from Dani to his father and then back again. “You’re not crazy. You read really well! Crazy people can’t read—”
Luisa thwacks the back of her brother’s head and glares at him. “She’s not crazy.”
“Ow.” Rafael rubs the back of his head and squirms out of Luisa’s lap. He climbs into Dani’s without her permission and glares at his sister. “I’m gonna stay here. Where people don’t hit me.” He sticks his tongue out at Luisa, who just sticks hers out at him.
“Stop this now.” Emilio’s voice is low and gravelly, and Luisa’s face blanches at the sound. She looks down at her hands, fingers tangling with themselves, but Rafael looks up at Dani. Then Emilio meets Dani’s eyes again. “Luisa is right, although it is none of your business. My late wife suffered from a far worse disorder than yours appears to be, and it was her downfall.” He looks her over once. “But you appear to have yours under control.”
I don’t, Dani wants to say, but she can feel Viola’s frustration bubbling within her. Her blood boils. “I wouldn’t have offered to teach your son if I thought he’d be at any risk with me.” It was true, on the surface, although continuing to act as though she is entirely safe is another matter. “Check with Henry,” she continues, nodding towards the paper that is no longer on the table. “I was dealing with this when I worked for him,” although in a different matter, given that Eddie was an entirely different ghost than Viola is turning out to be, “and it turned out just fine.” If just fine meant leaving Bly with an entirely real, entirely frustrating ghost living within her.
But, then, that proved her words right, didn’t it? The children’s safety – the children’s lives – came first, even to the detriment of her own. Henry might not tell him that – some things couldn’t be explained (and wouldn’t be believed if they were) – but she’s sure he would give a glowing review. Not that it particularly helps here.
She’s stuck.
Then Dani turns to Luisa. “I’m sorry,” she says. “About your mother.”
“It’s okay,” Luisa lies. (It is always a lie when a child says they are okay with the disappearance or death of a parent. There are exceptions, perhaps, for abusive assholes, but Dani knows from experience that whenever she said it was okay that her father was gone, she had always been lying. Even now, she would be lying. It isn’t because she knew the man or even necessarily liked him. She’d never met him. That wasn’t fine.) “It was a long time ago.”
Emilio nods. “She’s lived longer without her than she did with her.”
Luisa nods in agreement.
Rafael wiggles in Dani’s lap, looking back up at her. “I never met her. Everyone says she was crazy—”
Luisa shoots her brother another look, and he quiets quickly. “She wasn’t crazy.” Her lips press together, and she looks up, meeting Dani’s eyes as much as she can. “She was just sick. Like you’re sick. Only worse.”
Dani has her doubts that Luisa’s mother even remotely suffered from what she is currently suffering from, but she can’t quite explain that to them, can she? “I’m sorry,” she says again, even though she knows the words aren’t the balm she wishes they could be. “I know what it’s like to lose someone important to you.” First Eddie, then Hannah. Now, she’s afraid that, eventually, she will lose herself. She’d become complacent as Viola seemed to be more amicable, but after being forcefully pushed out of control of her body—
“It hurts. You say it’s fine, and sometimes it is, but it still hurts. That’s what loss is. Pain, right here.” Dani taps the center of her chest. “Things you can’t see or hear without thinking about them and how they’d say it, things you want to share with them. Sometimes you forget, and you go to share, and then the pain of it hits again. But,” she raises one finger, “it’s a warm pain. You remember something you like about them and instead of the pain here,” she presses her hand over her chest again, “it pools here like tears.” She taps the corner of one eye. “You learn to live with the pain, though.” At this, she glances up to Emilio, meeting his eyes. “Don’t you?”
Emilio looks at her, and it seems as though he has relaxed. That, at least, is good, considering that Dani isn’t quite relaxed in the slightest. She takes a deep breath and forces herself to settle. “Is there anything else you need from me?”
“No.” Emilio stands, and as he does, Luisa moves from her chair as well, followed by Rafael jumping out of Dani’s lap. “I think you have given me quite enough to think about. I will call you within the week, if this Henry fellow checks out.”
Dani nods. She could have given him Owen’s number as well – more than one reference is better – but she doesn’t know where he’s ended up for the time being. She isn’t sure that any number she has would actually reach him, and giving Emilio an outdated number would reflect poorly on her. Better to not.
“Thank you,” Dani says, voice soft, “for meeting with me. I will await your call.”
“See that you do.” Emilio nods to his children, and they follow him as he walks away. Rafael turns back to give Dani a bright smile as they meet up with the leggy blonde, who is still leaning against the counter, despite what looks like multiple requests from the closest librarian for her to move. The boy even shoots her a thumbs up when they walk through the door, one that Dani mimics back to him, even though she doesn’t feel quite right doing so.
So did that…go well? Viola asks. She’s been surprisingly quiet since letting Dani regain control of her body, but Dani knows she’s been watching the entire thing. The frustration ebbs away entirely, and Dani can feel the ghost starting to almost relax. That went well, right?
Dani’s teeth grit together. “It doesn’t matter if it went well or not,” she hisses. “It matters that you forced me out and locked me up.” She glances up, as though she could look at Viola, but there’s no one there. There’s never anyone there, unless she wants to go to that void just behind her eyes. She shudders. Not right now.
I only thought—
“I don’t care what you thought, Viola! You don’t treat people – you don’t treat me – that way!” Dani sighs, rubs her forehead, and then forces herself to swallow. “We’re not talking about this right now. Later. Tomorrow, maybe. But not right now.” She takes another deep breath, trying to force herself to calm. It doesn’t help. Of course, it doesn’t help.
Viola is still here, and Viola can take control whenever she wants, and nothing will help with that. It can’t.
She’s stuck.