CHAPTER 41
Sybil
This would be the last time. It felt right. Bee, Nash and I stood in the empty space, looking at the tired walls and scuffed floors.
“Rainbow for all of it, right?” Bee asked, hands on hips.
I nodded. “Ye-p,” I stressed the p. “No one will see it coming.”
“Including you,” Bee quipped.
I slapped her on the arm—hard.
“Ouch!” Bee rubbed at it.
“That was warranted,” Nash chimed in.
We’d grown comfortable enough to share mean jokes. I allowed it. I had plenty to say in revenge.
“OMG, can we do glitter drinks, and rainbow straws?” Bee squealed.
I smiled and nodded. “To your heart’s desire. You plan it, everything down to the last detail. I’ve done it for ten years, and I’m over the planning phase. It was more Cat’s thing, anyway.”
Nash slung his arm low around my waist, pulling me to his side. “Henry will love this.” He kissed me on the head.
It would be my last show.
In a grand display of happiness, we’d do everything in rainbow. Floor, ceiling, out into the street. The space we found was in Times Square, a gem of an opportunity.
Three months had passed since we got Blue and Red back. Grayson had disappeared again; we weren’t sure why. Bee had people searching for him, but he was gone like it never happened.
It puzzled me why someone would pursue with such dedication, only to disappear. My running theory was that he had to disappear. Maybe he’d made himself too findable, and other, more malicious parties had found him as we had.
For Bee’s sake, I hoped he was okay. I could tell she was worried, but she hid it behind a mask of relief. In the brief time I saw them together, I’d felt the electricity. It was the same desperate and wild snap of energy I’d felt with Nash.
“Okay, so I’m thinking we start the rainbow on the back wall, all the way at the top edge of the ceiling and have it go straight out the front doors as far as we’re allowed to paint it, and then farther for good measure,” Bee spoke while simultaneously jotting it down.
She gestured to the back wall. “We’ll put the art back here.
I got one of those locked art cases like they have at the Louvre; no one will fuck with the art this time.
I think we should add electric shock just to be sure. ”
I loved her enthusiasm and the fact that she appeared to be serious.
“And I’ve been stalking Henry so I can plan a day that I know he’ll be in town.
I think we should make an entire show of sending a mysterious car and picking him up.
OMG, Nash, and a special suit! We need to have one made for him.
All nipples. Just nipples of all kinds, from all the art in history. ”
Nash choked on his Americano.
“Or a cat suit, like all cats making weird faces. We’ll get Mr. Beans in there, too.”
Nash and I planned to get married at home in the backyard once our townhome was finished being rebuilt. We decided we’d move back to my side of the street and allow Bee to take over their townhome.
My house was undergoing big changes, adding two kitchens instead of one, and two master bedrooms on different floors.
We wanted to add a pool in the basement and a climbing wall up the entire new stairwell to make it a house full of spaces and activities.
At this rate, I could seasonally move around the house and inhabit different worlds anytime I felt the itch for a change.
I’d get my library back, and an art studio, but this time the studio would be a free space, not a prison. We had plans for a big rooftop garden, and I’d finally be able to plant roses with full-day sun. I was also learning about beekeeping.
I did not know New York contained so many avid beekeepers. It was an entire micro-society of introverts and non-introverts, and I’d joined the online group to take part in a few video meetings and classes.
With bees, I’d be able to plant vegetables and even a few small fruit trees. Both would thrive well, and my flowers would bloom like crazy. I’d be more than busy maintaining it all, and perfectly happy.
“Henry will show up, his recovered art will be here, and everyone will see it and know it was all a game. It’s the last great PERL prank.
It’s going to be brilliant!” Bee needed to lie off the energy drinks.
“He’s gonna die with that much attention.
He’ll be the most popular man in New York for many years to come. ”
Sharing my fame with Henry gave all that big-show energy somewhere to go. I’d let him carry the torch, why not? He was someone who could enjoy those things, and as a loyal fan, I couldn’t have chosen a better person. Maybe someday I’d introduce myself to him.
Bee tapped her pen against her upper lip, eyes slim with thought.
“I should look at the billboard situation out there. We should plan all the billboards to run something really cool and flashy. All of them.” She splashed her hand across the air in front of her, like an arch across the sky. “Rainbow.”
Bee didn’t know it yet, but I was planning to let Mr. Beans stay with her when we moved. I’m not entirely sure Bill would miss him. Besides, they can visit and stare at each other across the street. Mr. Beans seemed to be more of a right side of the street fella versus left, anyway.
Dr. Cat retired. While she still talked with me weekly, we developed more of a mother daughter style visit.
She’d connected me with a successor she felt confident in.
I saw them once a week as well. It was time.
Our relationship had grown too familial for Cat’s work to be effective on me anymore.
Besides, I think she was secretly gearing up for the day she could be a grandma.
Kids, I still wasn’t sure. I worried about passing down the mental health issues from both our sides.
We hadn’t talked about it a lot, but there was agreement toward adoption some ways down the road, when the time was right and I felt prepared to give myself to another little person.
With how my family had turned out, I wanted to be 100% ready for it, and eager.
“Sybil,” Bee gasped. “What if we put everyone in 70s-style rainbow jumpers? The entire staff. And dramatic Elton John-style sunglasses?”
I laughed. “Anything you want, Bee. I’m serious.”
“You’d be comfortable in that? Cause you will be there, right?”
I guffawed. “Of course! Always ready to dry a few champagne glasses in the corner.”
They both chuckled.
“Oooo,” Bee began again, “how do we feel about a ball pit, or a sprinkles pit? Skittles pit! You know, like the ice cream show did. People love that. And a glitter fountain. I want this to look like a unicorn got food poisoning in here, like, all over the place.”
I grimaced.
“Would you say this space could fit 500 people?” She was searching through the paperwork the property owner had supplied.
Nash glanced around, one hand in his pocket. “Probably.”
Bee nodded. “This is going to be expensive, Sybil. Hope you can foot the bill.”
I laughed. It wouldn’t be a problem. My parent’s trust would more than fund one of the biggest art shows in New York history, with enthusiasm. I was okay with anything that could make them turn over in their graves with guilt for how they treated me. Like a big, fat, look at me now.
When Bee finished creating the world’s longest list of duties, we stepped out onto the night streets of Times Square.
It was just after the new year; the place looked dapper after a thorough cleaning post Ball-Drop.
I could still spot the occasional remnant of a streamer here or there, shoved into a crack or near a drain.
The city’s core was always buzzing, a dazzling spectacle of lights visible even from orbit. We’d left Bill at home. This was too much, even for him.
Nash tucked me against him with Bee flanking my other side, and we walked back toward the West Village.
“You girls hungry?” Nash asked.
Bee nodded, head bobbing as though she were a starving little child. She hooked her arm in mine. “I want diner food. How about you guys?”
I hummed in agreement. “Fries.”
With their help, I’d been able to visit a select few restaurants.
This included late-night diners. It depended on the seating, how easy it was to enter and leave, and how busy they were.
With their help in ordering and handling any awkward moments, it was even enjoyable and sometimes my brain forgot to get nervous.
A whole new world of culinary adventure was opening up to me; my favorite being a sushi train spot uptown. We’d gone for Chinese food on Christmas Eve, and even tried an early morning breakfast in Chelsea.
I’d never had fresh waffles like that, or sushi. But Fries—those were my newest obsession. Straight out of the fryer and dusted with salt, it was the food of the gods. I’d missed out on so much, but I’ve learned from my mistake.
You can’t do this alone.
I was so sure I didn’t need anyone. Sure that if I couldn’t help myself, then no one could. This kind of thinking is toxic. If I’d known how easy it was to heal by allowing people in to help, I would have done it sooner.
Find your people, and let go of those that aren’t helpful.
My new therapist revamped all my medication.
We found the perfect combination, and it’s really helping.
It’s okay to be medicated. It’s not that Cat hadn’t done a good job.
She’d done the best she could; we’d just grown too close and cared too much.
It’s important to always have a therapist who’s honest and straight with you.
They don’t have to be our best friends; they just need to know their stuff and see how best to help.
We can’t give up.
No matter how big or how small our world is, happiness can exist. Find it.
It’s in the small things, the microscopic moments when we take care of our souls.
Bake a loaf of bread, and listen to a song.
Go walk outside, even if you don’t leave the yard—even if you just stand in the open front door.
Find peace in minor tasks like folding laundry, or cleaning a single drawer.
Focus on what you can do and what you can control and be proud of it, no matter how small.
Avoidance is the worst thing we can do to ourselves.
As Joseph Campbell put it, ‘The cave you fear to enter holds the treasure you seek.’
The most significant experiences in life often come with a mix of anxiety and powerful feelings—that’s a sign they matter. Frankly, if you’re not a little scared, you’re probably not doing it right. Embrace the challenge; you might surprise yourself with what you can overcome.
Betty’s story continues in
The Damsel and Her Villain
Coming Spring 2026!