Chapter 33 Lurielle #2
Her eyes flicked up, widening once she realized what Lurielle was asking.
“Oh, I’m not supporting him.” She laughed at the thought, as if it were preposterous.
“And don’t get me wrong, I always loved working in design before.
I just like being home with her more. But of the two of us, he’s better at it.
He’s insisted on paying for everything since he’s been back.
He needs a project. And until he finds one, he’s having fun being a stay-at-home dad.
So I feel like I have to be doing something. ”
The math wasn’t mathing. Lurielle desperately wanted to ask. She didn’t understand how Tate could be the father of Silva’s daughter in the first place. She wanted Silva to spill her guts and tell her everything, but Lurielle knew she couldn’t come right out and ask. Yet.
“Sooooo you’re back together . . .”
Silva’s smile was softer then. “Yeah. A bit of a work in progress, but we’re getting there. He’s coming with me next month for my unbinding.” She held up her hand, showing Lurielle the ring on her index finger. “Tannar’s family is making me do the whole ceremony. They just want to humiliate me.”
Lurielle gasped in offense. Now this was a conversation in which she could participate fully and unambiguously, with no need to dance around the unknown, especially since Ris wasn’t there to kick her under the table.
“Are you fucking kidding me? What a prick! Look, Ris never wanted me to say anything before, but I’ve always hated that guy.
You were too good for him, Silva, and he knew it.
They’re seriously making you do the whole ring returning ceremony? ! No one does that anymore!”
Silva laughed, nodding her head. Her laugh came a bit easier now, Lurielle thought. See? We just needed to find common ground. Hating Tannar is something we can all do together. “Yeah, they sure are. Careful what you wish for, because Tate is spoiling for a fight.”
“Yeah, and looks like he’s been in one pretty recently. If I were Tannar, I wouldn’t risk it. He’s going to get his head kicked in.”
Silva dropped her head to the table, her shoulders shaking in laughter, still nodding. “They think they’re doing this to punish me, but they have no idea what they’re in for.”
“I saw how banged up he looked at playgroup.” How were you able to broach this with Tate more easily? “He got hurt on the other side, huh?”
Silva nodded, her laughter dying out, her eyes still fixed on the three little bodies racing around the swings. “I thought he was going to die. He walked through my door, choking on blood, and I thought for sure he was going to die and I would lose him twice.”
Her voice wavered.
Lurielle shivered at the implication. He just rolled back through your door like five years hadn’t passed, looking younger than when he left. “All that scares me so much,” she blurted, ears heating. “I’m sorry if that’s shitty for me to say, but —”
“It scares me too. It’s all scary.” She glanced around, making sure children weren’t close enough to hear, as if she were expecting someone to be creeping up behind them.
“There are doors everywhere, Lurielle. When he was gone . . . I did a lot of investigating. I just had to know. There are shops that sell things that can help you cross, and they’re everywhere. There’s one right here in Bridgeton!”
“Stop,” Lurielle blurted, doing a whole body shake. “That’s going to give me nightmares.” Silva obliged and said nothing for a moment. Lurielle huffed, annoyed with herself. She wanted to know. “Like, what kind of doors? I feel like I will be afraid to take my kids camping.”
Silva’s voice was quiet when she started again.
“Don’t ever take a staircase that leads to nowhere.
Don’t ever throw a coin in a fountain if you can’t see the bottom.
If you walk past a mirror and it feels like something is watching you, there probably is.
I’ll never trust random salespeople ever again. ”
“No, stop, for real,” Lurielle laughed, shivering again.
“I have the heebie-jeebies.” For a long moment, they were both quiet, watching the children play.
“We found out you were pregnant from Edzin,” she murmured.
“I guess he still talks to Tannar. ‘Our kids could be friends.’ That was literally the first thought I had when we heard the news. And here we are.”
“Here we are . . . I’m so sorry I missed your wedding,” Silva said softly.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for any of it.
I . . . I was in a really bad place. I know I hurt your feelings, and I’m sorry for that too.
Honestly, I probably did you a favor. I would’ve wound up on the roof wailing like a ghost.”
Lurielle laughed at the thought. That would have distracted from her mother’s antics, if nothing else.
“You’re forgiven, Silva. Yeah, I was hurt at the time, but .
. . well, it’s been five years. We’ve all been through a lot.
And I knew you weren’t in a great spot. Which is also why I knew marrying Tannar was a terrible idea!
Because you weren’t in a good place and he’s the fucking worst.”
Silva laughed, the tense moment passed.
“Tate said Aelin went to preschool for a few weeks here in town?”
“Yes,” Silva nodded, “and she loved it. She needs to learn to socialize with other kids. We didn’t get much of that where we lived. Although she loved the teacher in her room so much, I almost worry it was a mistake sending her for such a short time.”
“Is she going to do summer daycare at the community center?”
Silva shook her head. “We hadn’t planned on it. At least, not yet. It doesn’t make sense to send her to daycare when he’s home all day.” Her eyes moved to Lurielle’s, eyebrows raising. “Are your kids there?”
“Yup. Khash and I both need to work. I am definitely one of those moms who needs adult conversations to function at home with my children without losing my mind. And he’s too invested in the idea of early retirement to take his foot off the gas now. So yeah, my kids will be there.”
Silva hummed. “That’s really good to know.
Maybe she can do one or two days a week, just for socialization.
She told me all about Kora, so I know she’d like that.
Aelin?” she called out. “Will you please go knock on Dynah’s door?
” The little girl nodded, darting off to the yard diagonal from theirs, rapping her little knuckles on the sliding glass door beyond the terrace.
When Dynah’s cloud of auburn curls appeared, Lurielle laughed. “Oh wow, she’s right there. That’s so great. Look at us! This is just like old times.”
Silva nodded, smiling. “We should have invited Ris.”
She covered Silva’s hand with her own as Dynah crossed the yard, waving. “Promise me you’re going to come to the break room and hang out with us. You don’t need to sit in the car and cry alone. You can come to the break room and cry with me, and we can make everyone uncomfortable together.”
Silva laughed as Dynah approached the table, pulling out a chair. “Lurielle! Who needs work? This is great. Please tell me Tate made lunch.”
Lurielle laughed as Silva nodded. “Oh, he did. Left me with a page of instructions on how I’m supposed to serve it.”
It was nearly like old times, she thought, watching Kora do her kaiju stomp across the yard, pterodactyl screeching as Silva’s little girl ran in circles around her, laughing. Kael was on the swings, testing how far the chain would take him.
“We should have called Ris. We’ll have to remember next time. She can bring the dog, and then all our kids can play together.”
When she pulled into her own driveway later that afternoon, with both Kael and Kora sound asleep in their car seats, thoroughly wiped out from the afternoon of play, Lurielle realized there hadn’t been a single mention of classes, camps, workshops, or anything that even vaguely resembled enrichment.
It had been nice. She knew how to play the game, was more competitive than she would have liked, and didn’t ever want to find herself on the outside of the mother’s group circle . . . but it was nice not needing to exist in that place all the time.
She was glad Silva was home. Glad to have their friendship restored. And was really fucking glad they were able to enjoy the afternoon, letting their kids be kids, without anyone wondering if it aligned with their values.
***
She could never have guessed a stack of blocks would wind up being a line in the sand.
Kora had made her first enemy, it seemed, for serene Yanna’s serene toddler was anything but, if her daughter were in the vicinity. At playgroup the following week, Lurielle watched as Kora pushed a little plastic truck along the edge of a table, making beeping sounds periodically.
Her eyes constantly moved back and forth between Kora and Kael, ensuring they were sharing and waiting their turn, never for a moment feeling that she could simply look down at her phone, as so many of the other mothers present did.
She wished she could. Lurielle didn’t know how Tate seemed to be able to text while never taking his eyes off his daughter, but his phone was in his hand, his thumb moving in a blur, his eyes locked across the room.
So focused was she on her own two that Lurielle never noticed Yanna’s dark-haired little boy until he was right there, yanking the truck from Kora’s hands. Her mouth dropped open in shock, mirroring the expression on her tiny daughter’s face.
Kora yanked the truck back. The little selkie pushed.
Lurielle heard her own quick intake of breath as though it had come from someone else, watching her little wildflower stumble, more from the shock and audacity than a disruption in her balance.
Wait. Don’t go running to her. See what she does first. Just behind her, Lurielle heard Tate tsking, watching as well.
She watched Kora regain her balance, her dark eyes narrowed, her little mind recalibrating.