Chapter 17
Remi
A garden blooms where ashes used to fall;
The roots drink deep of sorrow, yet they grow.
The walls remember footsteps in the hall,
And whisper secrets only shadows know.
So grief and grace together weave their thread,
And ghosts of longing walk where hope has fled.
Amir’s room was almost exactly like mine, but it felt different. As I paced from one side to the other, I raked my fingers through my hair, over and over. I’d probably have to wash it again after how much I’d touched it today.
I stopped at the door and pressed my ear against it. I could hear him talking to Mal, and there was a small laugh that I hadn’t heard before. It made something in my chest flutter as I pictured him with her, bringing out a side of her that she’d kept hidden away all day.
I turned around and slid down the wall. Planting my feet on the floor, I kept my knees close to my chest and rested my arms on them.
Mal’s voice carried to me, but I had to listen hard to make out what she said.
It was some story, maybe the one that she was writing.
From what I could tell, it was a graphic novel.
I hadn’t read any of it, so the plans she had for the rest were missing a whole lot of context as she explained it to Amir.
She paused quite a few times, and when I thought she was finished, she started again.
It was hard to tell whether she was volunteering the information or being forced, because she didn’t sound particularly excited about it.
Then again, I hadn’t heard her inflection change much regardless of what she said or who she talked to.
“I don’t think I can draw that part.”
“Why not?” Amir asked. His tone was so fatherly, I tried to imagine what he looked like when he spoke that way.
“It won’t be good.”
“Of course it will. Maybe you have to keep doing it over and over again, but you’ll get it.”
“I’ll run out of paper.”
He chuckled. “Well, I’ll buy you as much as you need, but I know that’s not really the issue.”
“No.”
“So, what do you need?”
There was only silence, and I angled my head, trying to catch something. It went on for minutes, but Amir didn’t push her.
“Help,” she decided finally.
“Roman?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you ask him when you were at the game earlier?” She didn’t respond. “It’s hard to ask for help. Do you want me to talk to him?”
She let out a huff of air that was more on-brand for a nine-year-old than most of the things she’d done so far. “You can’t.”
“I’m trying to read between the lines, but you’ve got to help me out here.”
“You said you can’t always help me with things.”
“That’s true. You also don’t have to do everything on your own. Listen, Mal, I want to make sure that you’re prepared for the world, because we can’t always be there to help you, not that I don’t want to be.”
“I know.”
As I listened to them, something inside of me mourned—not for what I’d lost, but for the man who had forgotten that it was missing. Although, forgotten might have been a gentler way to describe the deliberate erasure I’d practiced for so long. After all, why dwell on things that were gone?
“Let’s meet in the middle, okay?” Amir suggested. “I’ll ask Roman to help you one of these days, but you have to explain it to him like you did to me.”
She grunted.
“It’s hard. I get that. Just because some things are harder for you doesn’t mean you can’t find a way that works for you.”
“Yeah.”
“So, what do you think? Is it a good compromise?”
“Fine.”
“Good. Now get your butt in bed. We’ll be up early tomorrow. Make sure you steal all the blankets from Mom, okay?”
Mal laughed lightly before it went quiet.
There was a sound to safety, a hush between words I’d never heard addressed to me. At least, not since before. I lived in the after. Always the after.
Leaning my cheek against the wall, I took a breath. Footsteps drew closer, and my heart beat strangely as I counted each one. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. Like a cadence to the sound of my own heart.
It went silent, and after a long moment, the doorknob turned. Amir stepped in and glanced around. When he realized I was on the floor beside him, our eyes met, his swimming with things that I couldn’t name.
He held his hand out, so I took it and let him pull me to my feet. I was about to say something, but he walked me backward a couple of steps to the wall. My back bumped against it and left me nowhere to go.
“I’m sorry I got angry at you,” he said softly. “Having Mal here is the best thing you could’ve given me today.”
“You’re a good dad. She’s lucky to have you.”
“Thank you. Did you . . . not have a good dad?”
“Actually, I had the best dad.”
His eyes were incredibly soft. Truly, he was a sight to behold, not only for what was on the outside.
“Amir—”
He took both sides of my neck gently and dipped his head without skipping a beat.
I pressed my palms against the wall behind me as his lips met mine.
At first, they were firm, then they softened remarkably.
It felt like he melted into me, and my mind conjured ridiculous words that enticed me to open up to him.
Your touch is my salvation, trembling on the brink,
A chalice brimming black with doubt and fire.
I clutch it close, though every sip, I think,
May spell the end of all that I desire.
“Why are you kissing me when this isn’t real?” I asked, my expression blank and my voice controlled.
His gaze moved across my face. “It could be, you know.”
He spoke the words as soft as sunlight, and I flinched, pulling back to the shadows while I tried to breathe air that didn’t smell like him. His fingers traveled up to my face, and his thumbs traced my cheekbones.
“You’re being sentimental.”
His brow tightened. “You don’t think this could become something real?”
When I snorted, the peace he’d walked in with started to fracture, and I assessed him carefully. “No.”
He dragged his teeth over his lower lip slowly. When he released it, it sprang forward and the blood rushed back into it.
The way his hand suddenly moved away from my face made me clench my teeth, my entire body going rigid. It fell to his side, and I stretched out my neck to shake off the reaction.
“I guess you’re good at pretending,” he said. “Better than me.”
I lifted one shoulder. “I pretend to care for a living. From broken hearts to broken families, all kinds of characters come for more than just a drink.”
“Right. That makes sense.” Clearing his throat, he moved back a few steps. “We’ll keep pretending a little while longer, then. If you’re okay with that.”
“Whatever works for you. This is your whole thing.”
With a nod, he headed for the bathroom. I watched as he pulled his shirt off and held it tightly. He left the door cracked slightly, and I heard the shower turn on a moment later.
I dropped my forehead onto my hands and slid down the wall again. The idea of sleeping in here with him was undesirable at best. It was only one night, though. I could manage that.
I pulled out my phone to finally call Oli back.
He was mad at me for being ‘piss-poor at communication.’ Par for the course.
We usually talked daily—texts at minimum—but meaningful conversation wasn’t always on the menu.
It probably needed to be after everything that had happened in this gods-forsaken state.
“Bro,” he answered. “What the hell is your deal?”
“No deal. Just busy existing in a dreadful world full of false gods and worse poets.”
“Ah, you’ve gone existential. No wonder you’ve been ignoring me.” He faked a sniffle. “My heart hurts.”
“Sure it does, buddy.”
“There’s a story about Amir’s family online.”
I groaned and knocked my head back against the wall. “Seriously? This bitch works quick.”
“You looked good at the game, though. She caught you smiling.”
“Oh.”
I navigated to the web. There was an image of me leaning close to Roman, mid-laugh.
I did look good in that one. Then there was one of me talking to Avery.
Both of us looked awkward as fuck. And finally, I was sitting next to Mal while she dutifully ignored me.
At least pictures couldn’t capture what had gone down.
“Did you know they’d be there?” he asked.
“Nope. The day’s been full of surprises. I invited them to stay the night here, which pissed off Amir.”
“Oh no.”
“Yeah, then he shoved me up against a wall and tried to make out with me.”
Oli gasped. After a second, it shifted into a laugh. “That’s . . . a development. If you boned, you owe me a fifty.”
“We didn’t.” I paused, thinking back to the locker room. “Not really.”
“Not really? Ah, never mind that for now. What happened after he kissed you?”
“He said this could be real.” He made an ‘aw’ sound. “I told him no.”
“Remi, you damn idiot. Why would you do that?”
I scoffed. “You’re the one who said I need to stop dating.”
“No, I said you need to stop dating assholes who put their hands on you.”
“Amir put his hands on me.”
“Not like that.”
“Same difference.”
“Is he an asshole?”
“Sometimes.”
“Come on, Rem.”
With a sigh, I hung my head. “No, he’s not. That doesn’t mean I want to date him. I’m not interested in all of that right now.”
“Well, I don’t believe you, but there’s no point trying to convince you yet.”
It was impossible not to smile. Even when we were miles apart, talking to each other through a magic rectangle, Oli was more attuned to me than anyone had a right to be.
“How’s the bar?” I asked.
“Lots of alcohol. Interesting crowds that are borderline unfit for society. Endless dishes. Conclusion: it’s a bar.”
“Good to know it hasn’t morphed into a faerie mound.”
“There’s still time. That is, unless you run away with your tall, dark, and sexy mister.”
“Speaking of misters . . .” I glanced at the bathroom door when the shower shut off. “Has anyone unsavory made an appearance?”
“Nope. Maybe he’s all talk.” From the way he said it, I wasn’t sure he believed his own words.
“Or he’s too cranked to take a plane. He hates them. How long would it take to hitchhike?”
“Dunno. I got to Seattle in, like, two weeks.”
“I did it in a week, but I was more adorable.”