Chapter 5 In Which I Call My Mother
In Which I Call My Mother
When I got into the bedroom and put Doctor Kitten down, I realized I had no idea how to log onto the internet. The desk had three monitors now, and my computer had already been hooked up to them. My key card sat on the desk next to the external laptop and mouse they’d left me.
And there, next to the computer, my cell phone sat on a wireless charger. I didn’t remember what I’d done with it last night.
But they’d left my phone for me. That told me, more than anything else, the truth of my captivity: They weren’t worried who I told about my imprisonment.
They should have been worried; I wasn’t sure if the Princeling realized what he had done, what he was risking in taking me this way. If I revealed that I wasn’t here voluntarily, human-faerie relations—already tenuous at best—would sour rapidly.
Frustratingly, it seemed like I cared more than he did about how faerie integration went. I’d taken this job in the first place because I believed business success was one of the fastest ways to integrate supernaturals into human society.
Obviously, I hadn’t been listening when Jordan tried to explain that investment banking probably wouldn’t build the bridges I thought it would.
I missed his oversized fashion glasses and his always-right attitude so much right now.
I missed Thea, too, her natural way of understanding others, and her warm hugs that were just the best.
Would I ever get another hug from my best friends?
I walked over to the desk and tapped on my phone screen. It lit up. Eight forty-five a.m., six text messages from Thea, forty-five messages in the Games Games Games chat, and a missed call from my mom. My throat tightened. What could I even tell her?
I stared out the window. In the daylight, I could see more clearly.
Despite my impression that the corridor was flat last night, I was high up in the hillside, towering over an unfamiliar landscape.
As in Central Park, there were gray uncovered rocks and winding dirt pathways among wide green swaths of meadow, but unlike the human side, the foreboding edge of a dense forest bounded one horizon.
My eyes felt weird—I almost thought I could see individual blades of emerald grass swaying in a breeze, like the window was magnifying what I wanted to explore.
I tried to reach through the window and slapped my hand into an invisible barrier.
Magic. I was touching magic.
Something in my stomach fluttered. I shouldn’t be pleased about anything, of course. But—I imagined a conversation with myself at eight years old.
Eight-year-old me would be sitting at our kitchen table, in one of our wooden chairs with the rounded backs, her bare feet kicking at a table leg.
Miri, I would say, trying to sound calm and soothing. You got stuck in Faerie.
EEEEEEEEK, younger me would reply. THIS IS THE BEST NEWS EVER.
I would put my hand to my head at this point. No, Miri, this is bad news. They kidnapped your cat, too.
Younger me would probably be vibrating at a frequency strong enough to break her own chair. You mean I’m in a magic realm, and I get to keep my cat?
I’d search for something to upset her. Miri, Mom and Dad aren’t here.
A pause. Well, we can go visit! And did a faerie prince fall in love with us yet? Are we really pretty?
The Princeling—I would stop. Green eyes, tunic open at his throat to show the smooth column of his neck. Is cruel.
But she was a child, with a little-girl smile, one tooth missing, too many freckles. You’ll make him nice!
In my head, I sighed. Miri, it’s time for me to explain the harmful trope of fixing a broken man.
And then I stopped. What the hell was I doing?
I wrenched myself out of that little fantasy and shook my head, scrunching my eyes shut. My hand was still on the not-window. I looked for the sun but couldn’t see it in the sky.
Nothing for it but to dial into our team meeting, so I booted up my computer.
Maybe it was the magic, but the computer turned on faster than usual, and I had set up the meeting screen before nine a.m.
The Wi-Fi—named FairFolk ’Fi—had no password. I sat in the virtual waiting room and shot a quick text to my mom.
Call you when I can.
Corey let me into the meeting. I stared at his initials. He came off mute.
“Hey, Miri, you aren’t in today?” He sounded so normal.
“What?” I gasped. “Jeff didn’t tell you?” But I was still muted.
Should I tell him? Did Jeff want me to keep it quiet?
Fuck that. I tapped the spacebar and came off mute.
“I got trapped in Faerie, Corey,” I said. “Jeff really didn’t tell you?”
“What?” His shock sounded genuine. “How is that even poss— Miri, did you eat their food?”
“I—”
“Miri, there’s a subway campaign about this,” he said. “Don’t you even look up when you’re on the train?”
I could feel my eyes watering again, but I didn’t want to cry on a work call.
“Yes, thank you,” I snapped. “I told Jeff that yesterday. They tricked me. I thought it was a bowl from Grain Up.”
“That place is terrible,” he muttered. “I could’ve told you it would ruin your life.”
Matt and Levi both dialed in at the same time. “Morning,” Levi said. Matt didn’t say anything.
We all sat in silence for a few minutes, waiting for Jeff.
His name popped up, and he said, “Jeff here.”
No one said anything.
“Can you all hear me?” he asked, at the same time that Levi started to say, “Hi, Jeff.”
Both of them fell quiet.
“Corey, you have the agenda?” Levi said after a second. Doctor Kitten jumped onto the desk next to me and tried to write a sentence on my keyboard.
“Is Miri on?” Jeff asked, like he couldn’t see my name. I lifted Doctor Kitten off the desk and put him on the floor.
“I’m here, Jeff,” I said.
“Miri will be working remotely for a bit.”
I muted myself in order to say a series of very rude words. Doctor Kitten hopped onto the desk again, looking at me with what I thought was sympathy.
I unmuted myself.
“I’m stuck in Faerie,” I said. “Jeff, I’m stuck in Faerie. I am not working remotely because I want to. I am trapped. In Faerie.” Doctor Kitten climbed onto the windowsill and I grabbed for him, unsure if the magic barrier would work for him, too. I caught him under the arms and hauled him back.
“Yes, well, I didn’t know if you wanted me to share details of your personal life.”
I went on mute again and devised a new set of creative sentiments, involving Jeff, a waffle maker, and various bodily excretions.
I unmuted myself.
“This isn’t my personal life, Jeff. I got stuck in Faerie on a work trip.”
No one said anything.
I took one of Doctor Kitten’s paws and tried to put it out the window. It came up against the magic barrier, so I put him down on the desk again. He probably wouldn’t fall out the window.
“Miri, we don’t have a ton of time, I have a hard stop at nine thirty,” Jeff said. “And the rest of you, since this is a work issue, I expect it to remain in the office. Don’t share with CBS, okay? I don’t want us on the news. Now, Corey, do we have any new pitch meetings coming up?”
“You absolute towel rack made of dog shit,” I muttered.
I had not muted myself.
“Excuse me?” Jeff said.
“Sorry, talking to my cat.”
Doctor Kitten hopped back onto the windowsill and leaned against the magic barrier, staring at me.
“That poor cat,” Matt said.
“We don’t have any pitches coming up, Jeff,” Corey said.
“We have the dairy company with the new yogurt for werewolves,” Matt chimed in.
I cringed.
“That’s supernatural,” Matt added, when no one spoke.
“Matt, there’s a reason they are spinning off the ‘dog food for your human’ brand three months after they launched it,” Jeff said, displaying sense and making me hate him more.
“Fine, then we don’t have any new pitches,” Matt said, petulant. I pictured him crossing his arms at his desk. Were all of them at their desks except me?
“Okay, does everyone know what they’re working on?” Jeff asked.
No one answered.
“I’ll take that as a yes, and let’s end early so I can have a few minutes back.”
“Wait, Jeff—” I said, but they’d all already hung up.
Was I just supposed to, like, do work?
On cue, an email came in from Jeff.
Hi Miri,
Please take some time today to think through our strategy for the presentation. Remember it is due to the client at the same time as the final iteration of the model. When I reviewed it last night, I saw several mistakes and formatting errors.
Jeff.
Gritting my teeth, I opened our shared file drive and found the latest version of the presentation. I double-clicked on it, sighed, and stared at the outline of my black and white cat against the impossibly blue sky.
When the clock on my computer showed one thirty p.m., I stood up.
It was time.
I picked up my phone, the miserable pit in my stomach gaping. I was the most afraid I’d been all week. Standing, knees locked, I pulled up her contact and hesitated.
No.
I considered the room and sat back down in the chair, phone in my hand.
No.
The bed? I sat gingerly on the side without my suitcase, and then pulled my knees up to my chest.
No.
The floor, maybe. I slid down onto the floor and stretched my legs out in front of me.
I didn’t have to tell her. I could just call her and lie.
Except I couldn’t. I wanted to. But I couldn’t.
For a moment, I considered telling Thea or Jordan or my dad first. But there was no putting this off.
I had to call my mother.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I tapped the call button. The ringing started with surprising alacrity for cell service in a pocket realm, and I made a mental note to ask the Gray Knight about their service provider.
“Miri?” my mom asked, her voice cheerful through the phone. “How are you?”
“Mom, I’m trapped in Faerie and I can’t get out or I’ll explode into blood mist and bone shards,” I said in one breath. “But you don’t need to worry because I have Doctor Kitten and I’m fine.”