Chapter 6 Ris #3
She was sad to have to burst her boyfriend’s bubble — it wasn’t just musicians and artists.
She loved her ballet classmates, her friends at the yoga studio, the nymph she sat with at pottery .
. . but not a single one of them had ever been able to follow through on doing something outside the class, even as simple as grabbing coffee.
Ris took her plate to the sofa, settled in with her phone, tablet, and the book she was supposed to be reading for the book club in Cambric Creek, which she still attended. It wasn’t the same without Silva, and she’d been meaning to drop the club for the last several months.
Chewing slowly, Ris contemplated her options. It was the phone she reached for first.
Hey, Mama, just checking in,
I haven’t seen you in like 2 weeks!
You have no idea how much I miss being able to just meet up on a moment’s notice.
Lurielle was pregnant, a surprise to absolutely no one.
She knew Orcish pregnancies lasted a bit longer than the common gestation, and Ris wasn’t entirely sure how far along her friend actually was .
. . but her role in HR put her in the position to have a smidge more information than she would possess otherwise, and if Lurielle confided that she’d already been pregnant at her wedding, Ris wouldn’t have been shocked.
She’d tried to count backwards from the projected leave time that had been discussed with the engineering team lead, and the math wasn’t mathing.
The phone buzzed, Lurielle’s response coming quickly.
Tell me about it!
I really don’t appreciate you disappearing off to the city
at the EXACT SAME TIME Khash moved in for real
He’s always here!
He never goes home!
Thanks for nothing.
She nearly flipped her plate over as she laughed, hunching on the sofa.
They were still in the same building at work, they still had time to see each other in the breakroom, but with Lurielle’s wedding and pregnancy, her own move to the city .
. . everything had changed. Soon, Lurielle would be out on maternity leave, and then what would she do?
Fortunately, the phone buzzed again before she had a chance to get too deep in her feelings.
I miss you too!
I worked from home this whole past week
Turns out morning sickness is a misleading name.
I’ve been projectile vomiting morning, noon, and night
And the doctor said that’s normal!
We’ve been lied to our whole lives.
Ris paused, taking another bite of her lasagna, chewing thoughtfully. They hadn’t had a conversation about what would happen after the baby arrived. She wondered, feeling guilty for even being worried over the answer, if Lurielle would decide not to come back to work.
Before she even considered if it was her place to ask, the phone buzzed again.
I promise I’m not going to become one of THOSE mom friends
The ones who can’t talk about anything or go anywhere if it’s not baby-related
You have to promise you’re going to come back and drag me out of the house sometimes during my leave.
I’m already tired of talking baby shit and they’re not even here yet.
Ris tipped her head back, feeling the burn of tears threatening her eyes.
She missed her friends. Their lives had all changed so much in such a short time.
Fucking Tate. She was out in Bridgeton now, Lurielle was married and pregnant, and Ris knew that even if Lurielle didn’t want her life to be subsumed by her marriage and her baby, it was nearly impossible to prevent it.
Silva had left town and not looked back, but Ris remembered how empty Silva had seemed behind her once-sparkling eyes before she did so.
She missed her friends, and all her attempts at making new ones had failed so far. She was falling into the exact situation that had made her so resistant to a relationship in the first place — Ainsley was all she had right now, and she was lonely.
Even with Ainsley, even as much as she loved him and wanted to be there for him and with him for every single grain of sand in his tiny vial.
She loved him with her entire heart, and there was no one else she would choose to be at her side .
. . But loving him wasn’t enough to fill the hole that had begun to form at her center several years earlier.
All of her hobbies, all of her classes, they kept her busy, but it was all so .
. . transactional. Her life was full of empty exchanges.
Time for time, presence for presence. She and the others showed up when the calendar told them to do so, followed the script of their activity, and left.
She was lonely just thinking about the future, and the future was all she thought of anymore.
You’re going to have a point of reference eventually. What will you do when he’s gone, and you have no one? When you’re the only one left?
Not the only one, she corrected. Lurielle and Khash were in the same boat.
Ris wished, not for the first time, that they had a club of their own. Something unlike Cevanore. A club not entirely dissimilar to their grandmothers’ worlds, but one that held place for the misfits like her. Like Lurielle. Like Dynah. Like Silva, if Silva even is Silva anymore.
She thought of the elves she’d known over the years who'd quietly disappeared. Elves like Silva, who ran away. Elves like Dynah, who didn’t fit the shape required to stay visible.
A place where they could exist, where they could live their authentic lives without judgment, where they would have camaraderie once they were the only ones left, all that remained of the Cambric Creek community of today.
Something that wasn’t just an activity, that was more personal than a calendar entry.
Swiping on the tablet's screen, she quickly opened her notes app.
A place to exist — no audition necessary.
No pricey membership, no waitlist. Coffee.
Clubs. Classes. Community. Childcare, she added, thinking of Lurielle with a grin.
Elves AND nymphs. Sylvans. Room to be messy.
Room to be real. Room for grief. Her throat caught as she added that last one, thinking of Silva, wherever she was.
Thinking of herself. We need a place for all of us.
Someplace to grow old together when we’re all that’s left. Somewhere to belong.
Her phone buzzed again, Ainsley this time.
Miss you. You’d better save me some lasagna.
The sound that came out of her was nearly a sob, echoey in the apartment that was too empty without him in it. She loved him more than she’d thought it was possible to love another person.
Love wasn’t enough to fill her whole cup, though, and she was finally ready to admit that aloud.
To herself. In therapy, which is where you’re supposed to be talking this shit out.
It wasn’t enough to fill the hole inside her where that rasping sand lived, a reminder of the yawning expanse of years before her . . . but this might.
This was the center she had been circling for years, and for the very first time, Ris was able to envision where it might land.
She scratched his stubble that night in bed, gently dragging her nails over the curve of his skull. Ainsley was like a giant cat, pressing his head against her palm when she paused, an insistent, silent demand. Ris laughed softly, continuing the motion.
“Have you thought about what you’re going to do with it when it grows out?” she murmured against his shoulder, feeling his slight shrug beneath her.
He’d shaved his head about a month after their move.
It had been impulsive, he’d insisted, standing in the bathroom in a puddle of his long, black hair as she’d gaped like a fish from the hallway.
It reminded her of the time-honored tradition of cutting one’s hair after a break-up.
A new look, shedding the past, growing into someone new.
She couldn’t pretend she didn’t miss it, but she did understand.
“We’ll have to see what it’s like when it does,” Ainsley mused sleepily. “I don’t want to get mentally attached to something and then the texture is all wrong.”
Your partner is being reshaped right now.
She nodded against his shoulder. “Probably smart. You don’t want to pick out something glamorous only to wind up with a cowlick.”
She grinned when he snorted beneath her. He’d been quiet since coming home, and that was fine. She needed to make space for his grief, for as long as he needed.
“I don’t want to talk about this right now and I probably shouldn’t even bring it up . . . just putting it on your radar for tomorrow, I guess. But I was thinking . . . what if we got a pet?”
The goblin’s words had been turning in her mind since therapy. You might want to dip your toes in the waters of experience. A pet would be a good start, she considered.
In an instant, Ris found herself pinned, Ainsley’s sleepiness forgotten as he pressed her down, eyes lit with something that almost looked like his old exuberance. His nose bumped hers, and Ris squealed at the instant reaction.
“Can we get a puppy?”
“Wow,” she laughed. “You’ve really been holding that in for a long time, I can tell.”
“I grew up in apartment buildings, Nanaya. No pets. I had a gerbil when I was ten, and the troll down the hall let it out one day when he was over playing, and it got into the ventilation system. After that, I wasn’t even allowed to have a fish.”
“The people downstairs have a dog,” she said thoughtfully. “So, we know they’re allowed in the building.”
She’d envisioned a cat in her head. An adorable kitten that would grow into a distant, well-mannered housecat, an independent woman like her, but Ris had to admit she didn’t really have a personal preference.
This was the very first time in the past year that she’d seen him react in a way that was very nearly his old self. If getting a puppy would keep that light in his eyes and the brightness in his smile, he could have ten of them.
“Please,” he begged, rolling them so that she was once again tucked under his arm. “I’ve always wanted a dog. I promise I’ll walk it and feed it every day. You’ll never have to get up in the middle of the night to clean up a puddle.”
“Why didn’t you have one in Starling Heights?” she asked, forgetting that she was the one who’d said they would table the conversation until the following day.
Ainsley blew out an aggrieved breath. “The place was too small. You were there, I barely had room for my stuff, let alone room for a pet. I wasn’t home enough; it wouldn’t have been fair.”
“Ainsley, when are we ever home now?” She found herself flipped and pinned once more, laughing so hard she could barely breathe.
“I will quit everything. I don’t think you understand how long I’ve wanted this. Besides, this is what you do as an adult. You slow down, move to the suburbs, get a dog. Maybe I’ll take up fly fishing. You can learn to crochet.”
“I already know how to crochet!” Ris shoved on his shoulder, rolling with him, settling in her spot once more. “And we just moved out of the suburbs. Okay, no more talking tonight. I said this was for tomorrow. Because we have to seriously look at our schedules before we do anything.”
“Tomorrow you’ll say yes?” he asked into her hair, and the sound of his voice nearly made her start crying again. Joy. Obstinate, infectious joy. He’ll chew his way into your heart, and there’s no scraping him out after that. She didn’t want to. She only wanted to keep this smile on his face.
“Yes,” she whispered, letting her eyes flutter shut, wiping them dry against the pillow. “Tomorrow I’ll say yes.”