10. Laila
10
LAILA
I recognize the strong arm curled around me immediately, but I pretend I don’t.
Only because I want to stay like this for a few more minutes—quiet and warm and protected. If I just keep my eyes closed for a little while longer, I don’t have to think about who’s holding me. I don’t have to contemplate what it means.
I don’t have to hurt.
Then Arsen’s thumb strokes over my ribs. “Are you awake?”
And just like that, the moment is lost to the harsh reality of another day. The first full day without her.
“Where’s Nina?” My voice is rough and scratchy.
“With Kira. Don’t worry; she’s fine.”
What kind of mother does it make me that I wasn’t worried? I know she’ll be taken care of.
“How are you feeling?” he asks.
I slide away from Arsen’s arms, because the answer is that I’m feeling barely human. My limbs are heavy. I can’t even blink without pain. The loss of his warmth sends my heart sinking lower, if that’s even possible.
“I feel like my mother just died.”
I swing my legs to the edge of the bed, but I don’t know what to do after. I can’t lie here forever, but I don’t want to get up, either.
Arsen moves in front of me, ruining any chance I had of ignoring him. He sinks to one knee, and it occurs to me that, just a few months ago, something as simple as that would’ve sent me into a tailspin of desire.
Right now, I don’t feel anything at all.
“You need to take a shower, Laila. You need to get dressed.”
I scowl even as my eyes burn. Tears I can’t afford to cry sting like hellfire, but even still, I don’t let them loose. I’ve cried enough for a lifetime.
“For what?”
“For the funeral.”
Right. The funeral. My mother’s funeral. Which is happening because she’s dead.
I test the words out, rolling them around in my mind, but the thought just doesn’t catch. Does not compute. I always thought cancer meant I’d have time to prepare, but that’s turning out to be the biggest joke in the world.
There’s no preparing for this feeling.
“I’ve taken care of everything,” he continues, “per Marie’s instructions. I hope that’s okay.”
Okay. That’s the second-biggest joke in the world. None of this is “okay.” He’s told me this before—what she wanted, how she wished to be laid to rest. I think I remember him telling me yesterday. Or maybe it was last week. Might’ve been a century ago.
If I ever cared, I don’t now. I’m not in any state to plan a funeral.
I look up to see he’s watching me carefully. I lick my chapped lips and nod. “Okay.”
“I’ll help you to the bathroom.” He offers me his hand—large, warm, steady. All at once, everything in me wants to cling to it and never let go.
But I clench my fists against my thighs instead. “I can manage on my own.”
I use the bedpost to haul myself to my feet, but one step is all it takes before my knees buckle. I sag against his chest, because he’s there, because of course he is.
This time, when he wraps an arm around my waist, he doesn’t ask, and I don’t refuse. I let him lead me into the bathroom. A new bathroom, actually. As I look around, I realize none of this stuff is what it should be.
He leans me against the countertop and turns on the shower. Steam begins to billow and fog up the mirror.
“Why am I here?”
Arsen looks over his shoulder. “You don’t remember?”
I’m guessing I should. But the last… I don’t even know how long it’s been, but it’s hazy. All of it.
Arsen turns and unbuttons my pajama top with professional indifference. “It doesn’t matter. The room will be ready again in a day or two. You’ll have it back soon enough.”
It’s only when I’m standing naked in front of him that it hits me: I’m standing naked in front of him.
But he just points to the shower. “Go on. I’ll get your clothes ready.”
I shuffle in, too numb to argue. The water singes away the grit and grief of yesterday. I inhale the steam, letting it cleanse me from the inside out.
By the time I step out of the shower, I feel slightly more human.
Arsen is waiting for me with a fresh towel. He dabs me dry and helps me into a black bra and underwear. Then he ushers me back into the bedroom, where a black dress is draped over the bed.
“There are other options if you want to look at them. You don’t have to wear this one.”
“Now, you give me choices?” I wheeze out a bitter laugh.
Arsen holds up the dress. “Yes or no?”
“I don’t care.”
He unzips the back and I step into it. When it’s zipped, he turns me towards the floor-length mirror.
I look because I suppose I should, but I couldn’t care less about my reflection. Distantly, I see the dark circles like bruises under my eyes, my splotchy complexion. None of it matters.
I nod. “Let’s go.”
Arsen keeps a hand on my lower back as we wind through the house. He pushes a little harder as we pass my room, and it only takes one look through the cracked door to remember why.
Yesterday washes over me in a rush of memories I don’t want, but can’t forget.
I look down at my arms. For the first time all morning, I see the scrapes there. The slashes and bandaged cuts. The proof of what I did.
I dig my heels in and stop us in our tracks to look through the ruined door.
Most of my handiwork has been cleared away. The floor is cleared of glass and crystal and most of the furniture is gone.
“I destroyed everything.”
“It’s okay,” Arsen assures me. “It doesn’t matter.”
“I was out of control. I was—” I twist around to face him. “You didn’t stop me.”
“I can replace everything you broke. You needed it.” His eyes drift down my body, coming to a halt on a thick bandage wound around my elbow. “I only cared that you were hurting yourself.” Something passes over his face. He softens and takes a step towards me.
But as he nears, everything in me recoils. Whatever he’s going to say, I’m not ready for it. Can’t hear it. Not now.
Before he can say anything, a door opens behind me.
Polina emerges from the nursery carrying Nina. She’s in a white dress with tiny black bows sewn around the hem.
I want to reach out and hold her, but the wreckage of the bedroom flashes in my mind. Suddenly I feel like a monster, too violent to be anywhere near a baby so pure. I curl my fingers into fists, my nails biting into my palms.
Nina reaches past me for Arsen instead, chubby fingers snatching at his shirt. He picks her up and presses his lips to her forehead.
It’s unfair how natural fatherhood looks on him. Unfair how easily he can melt back into Nina’s life. How easily she’s accepted him.
I trail behind them, walking just out of sync. In a matter of days, I’ve become the outsider. There’s no space where I fit.
Maybe nothing will fit right ever again.