Above All Else
Ezri kept the proverbial leash short and thus never had to tug on it. While it had become mind numbing for Clara at some point to never be allowed past that short chain, it was also calm.
Her proverbial leash with Jen was much longer, which had her keep her sanity, but Jen yanked on it frequently enough to remind her it was there, which made her have the realization of it over and over again.
Asher was having an s-type’s gathering on Friday and when she brought it up to Jen, she realized she phrased it as a request for permission to go. She didn’t need permission to go anywhere—Jen had veto power, and she had to tell her where she was, but it wasn’t required in advance. The phrasing was a little submissive, but it was intended more like a considerate notification of her plans.
“No,” said Jen.
Clara had opened her mouth to speak, and then closed it. “No?” she asked cautiously, like she hadn’t heard the word before.
“You may not,” Jen rephrased, still more absorbed in whatever she was doing on the computer than looking at Clara.
“I—” She had already accepted she wasn’t going, if reluctantly; she wasn’t really arguing, just trying to figure out where this answer came from. They had no plans on Friday and Asher was a good friend. She did like, now and then, to see certain people at events where they were allowed to speak freely. And she couldn’t think of why Jen would say no. “May—I ask why, Mistress?” That was phrased a lot more deliberately than the original question.
“Because I don’t want you to go.”
Well, thank you, Captain Obvious, she thought, and bit her lip.
“Isn’t that enough of an answer?”
Oddly, the question was the answer she’d been looking for. The I just don’t want you to—and that’s enough of a reason. This was a yank on that leash. Jen had no issues with Asher or plans for Friday—just an opportunity to say no and see if Clara pulled back.
“Yes, Mistress,” she said softly, then waited a moment, then left.
She paced a little—she didn’t like that this was the thing Jen had decided to say no to. She managed to even blow it out of proportion mentally, not catching how stupid it sounded for another few minutes—a toxic behavior of keeping her from talking to other people on the right side of the slash without monitoring.
She was sure that was part of the idea—it had to be something she even might tug back on, which she still wasn’t going to. She didn’t have to like it. In the long run, that leash mattered far more than Asher’s gathering, and she knew that this opportunity had been chosen to prove a point, not out of any desire to isolate her—not that one Friday afternoon would matter.
She found enough neutrality to text Asher that she couldn’t go, opting to not tell him why, lest it lead to complaining she didn’t want to do. She realized, as the wave of emotion that came with that leash yank settled, that the aftermath left her calmer than before, the acceptance of the bigger picture.
Jen noted that evening that she seemed very subdued.