Chapter 8 #2
We still share an unspoken understanding that some troubles are too vast for words to span the distance back to safety.
Some wounds run too deep to talk about without scraping them raw anew.
So I show her I'm there for her in a language that flows more easily between us than words ever could, avian shifter to avian shifter.
I watch from the corner of my eye to be sure my proximity is welcome as I slide closer to her on the bench.
Clara sets her tangled knitting back on top of her open bag, leaning toward me as she tucks the project away for another time.
I tilt my body toward her, inviting her more into my space.
She reciprocates, inching close enough for our knees and shoulders to bump.
When I lift my arm, she leans against me, letting my arm drape comfortably around her shoulders in a casual side hug.
From there it's only natural to tilt my head in an invitation to preen, though in our human forms it's more of a friendly nonverbal invitation to ask for help or comfort.
Clara takes in the gesture, opens her mouth and can't quite seem to put her thoughts into words as she splutters at me. "You...You're...I can't even."
"Clearly," I agree. And she clearly can't, because she bursts into raucous crows of laughter that bring tears to her eyes.
I don't think it was that funny. But when she all but melts against my side, resting her head on my shoulder as she quakes with laughter.
I don't think humor is what really matters.
I turn to hug her properly, giving her as much privacy as possible in this public venue.
I rub her back as her hysterical laughter gives voice to all the things she can't say.
I get how hard it is to find a safe outlet for all the feelings that build and build when just treading water takes all your strength.
How precious and rare it is for someone to notice and care about how she's doing for a change.
Shit, I should have made the time to check on her more often.
Even if I didn't already have my own reasons to see if her offer to move into the other side of her duplex still stands, I think she needs the same thing.
A chosen flock who can be there and understand that our wings don't have to define what it is to be a flock.
"Mama?" A little voice pipes from the edge of the pool. Clara's laughter is loud enough that her kid stops his exercise to stare at her. I try to ignore the implication that her laughing is so rare that it alarms the kid, that's just grim.
"She's good, hon," I plaster on an exaggerated grin and pat Clara's back with one hand as I gesture airily toward Hilda with the other. "I just told her a joke. Listen to Hilda."
"Yep, I'm fine, Luca," Clara gasps out confirmation as she reins in her hilarity and wipes a tear from her eye. "Auntie Winny is a menace. You're doing great, don't let me interrupt your lesson."
Luca is still staring as Hilda leans close to murmur an instruction to him.
Hilda shoots us a questioning glance over his head and I double down on my oversized grin, shooting her a thumbs up.
Clara nods too, which seems to reassure them both enough for Hilda to get Luca to focus back on his exercises.
"You good?" I ask, carding fingers through the stray bits of Clara’s long hair that have escaped from her hair tie.
She's a warm weight draped over my good side.
My bad shoulder is already twinging in warning from holding the awkward posture to accommodate holding her, so I ease into a more tolerable posture and Clara moves with me, neither of us quite ready to give up the closeness.
Clara sighs, not making the slightest move to pull away from me.
"Not really? I mean. Yes. Luca is—no, don't stop preening my hair to lecture me again, this is relevant—he's doing well with that medical trial I told you about in the spring. So with the new meds, his OT and his sessions with Hilda, he’s gone from near constant spasms to being confident getting around with his braces, even if I’m not right at his side. So, it’s worth all the appointments and paperwork and fighting for funding. It is.”
“I know. You don’t have to justify being overwhelmed to me, Clara.” I keep preening her hair and she leans her head into my touch.
“Yeah. I…I’m exhausted. It's just so much. Missed school, and driving into the city for appointments, and with everything else. It all adds up. I haven't found much time to spend in my feathers lately and it's starting to ache the way it does...you know?”
“I do.” I dip my head, swaying with her.
I might not have the same attachment to flying as most of my flock, but that’s entirely separate from the need to spend time in my feathers to feel whole.
Like any shifter, both my forms are integral to who I am.
“Didn’t you have neighbors who keep an eye on Luca so you can shift? ”
“I did. Kelly and Anita, the sweet alpha wolf couple Harvey had living in the other half of my duplex, had their first pup over the summer, so they moved out. I can’t exactly ask them to come across town to babysit when they have a newborn at home.
And there hasn't been anyone living on the other side of the duplex for months, so with winter weather setting in, it’s getting expensive to heat a vacant apartment, but burst pipes are more expensive, so I'm thinking I might try to sell it? Or talk to Harvey about the pack helping out since our deal is for me to make the unit available for him to move his stray young shifters into while they adjust to the pack here in exchange for him managing the rental stuff I don’t have time to deal with. ”
“That’s a lot,” I say, keeping my tone neutral. “Is there a reason Harvey hasn’t found a new tenant?”
“He did, but the shifter Harvey had lined up to move in this fall changed his mind about leaving home.
And Harvey's been so distracted lately that I'm not sure if he even still needs the place available. He sent me a message about posting a listing online when we talked about the heating costs a few weeks ago, but so far no word on how that’s going.
We keep playing telephone tag and I don't want to leave a voicemail telling him that the next stray he wants to send my way is out of luck, but I also just.. .."
"You're overwhelmed," I repeat.
"Yeah." Clara swallows hard. "It's not about collecting rent or anything. We're alright renting it out at a slight loss as long as the apartment isn’t costing me a fortune in utilities. I get my flock stipend and put in my volunteer hours and I pick up paid shifts with the pack businesses while Luca is at school when I can. Really, it’s more that when there's another shifter or two who Harvey has vetted in residence, I have people I can trust to be around for Luca if I need to run out for groceries or grab a med refill or shift into my feathers for a minute…”
"You need a flock to have your back when you need five minutes to be Clara and not just Luca's Mom." I supply when she trails off.
Clara shivers against my side and I know I hit a nerve with that one.
"Yeah." The admission is barely a breath of sound and if her mouth wasn't so close to my ear, there's no way I'd have heard it at all. "Fuck."
"No shame in that." I hug her tighter and pre-empt the guilty response my brothers jump to when our moms demand to watch their kids and tell them they need adult time.
"Needing a break doesn't mean you love him any less, it means you’re mortal.
You're an amazing mom, and part of continuing to be the best mom Luca could ask for means taking care of your own needs too. "
"Yeah. I guess,” Clara mumbles pulling away from me. I fix her with a no-nonsense glare.
Clara groans and scrubs her hands over her face. “Fine, yes, you're right. If only it was as easy to make ‘me time’ happen as it is to say it should, but I'm trying to work on it. Ugh. Where'd you learn all that parenting stuff, cause I feel like I'm making it all up as I go along," she grumbles.
Clara pulls fully out of my embrace to eye me suspiciously. We're still sitting closer than necessary on the bench, knees bumping as we talk.
“I know things,” I say with a snort.
“Sure, all the things.” Clara cracks a smile.
"Hey! Rude. But seriously, I’m mostly telling you what my moms are constantly reminding my brothers of now that they've got hatchlings.
I mean, I am not a mom, thank every feather on my face.
" I shudder theatrically. "But I get what it’s like to take on more than you can carry and to love someone so much you’ll tear yourself apart for them with a smile on your face.
You're doing a great job and I'm here for you, yeah? "
"Yeah.” Clara takes a deep breath and chuckles wryly. “So, anyway that's my messiness, what about you? I feel like it's been ages since we had a real talk like this."
"We talked at Myra's fledging party in October," I counter half-heartedly.
I know she's right, and I've missed these chats too.
I've just accepted that Clara doesn't have much social time these days and wishing to go back to simpler times when we could talk for hours while baby Luca napped is an indulgent fantasy.
For now, being her friend means enjoying the time she does have at flock gatherings and not demanding more than she has to give.
And making the time to carve out more moments like this where I can.
"That was small talk." Clara waves away my answer. "I mean really talking. Like this. More like Elric’s ceremony in the spring. I take it you called Eilene? Or found another way to work through Nancy’s nonsense, telling you not to give up on PT and the journey back to flying so easily since it's part of your identity and blaming your for your disability? "