Chapter 19 #2
It happened sometimes, she didn’t know why.
When she felt like everything was too good and too perfect, something within her clicked and released this unjustified sadness in her system.
She thought it might be a consequence of her emotional compass, still not attuned to the range of new feelings Denny had put inside her, going into overdrive and glitching, pointing in the wrong direction.
She hadn’t even identified some of those feelings yet—too many subtle shades for her colour-blind heart.
Denny wasn’t reading any more. Her book lay in her lap, closed, all her attention now fixed on Eris, in running her fingers through her hair as her lips brushed her forehead, again and again.
“Keep that up and I’ll fall asleep right here,” Eris grumbled, if it was even possible to grumble blissfully.
Denny tittered quietly. “Fine by me.”
She smelled so good—like soap and flowers and home. It was the t-shirt, the Black History Month one that Denny never wore outside of the house. Only her inside clothes smelled so distinctly like her.
“You never wear this in public.” Eris ran a hand over the red, yellow, and green print on the black fabric.
The kisses stopped. Denny’s cheek came to rest on top of Eris’ head. A sigh swelled her chest. “My grandma Adunni gave it to me, but… A white-passing girl sporting Black History Month merch is never a good idea.”
“You’re literally half black.”
“But I don’t look it.”
A suspicion dawned upon Eris. “Did you get shit for wearing this?”
“Not just for that. I’ve grown thick skin by now, but I’d rather avoid public scenes.”
“Fuck those wankers! It’s your heritage!”
“It is, and I cherish it. But all my looks convey is white.”
Denny’s gaze was fixed on the floor, dark gold lashes low, painting shadows on her freckles. Sad. Sad. Eris couldn’t bear to see Denny sad.
“When I was little, the rare times Dad picked me up from school, random parents would pull me aside to ask if I knew ‘that man’. And I didn’t understand, because—” A crack of sorrow tore through Denny’s murmur. “—that was my daddy, of course I knew him…”
The rage pounded against Eris’ ribcage, yearning for an outlet.
She couldn’t begin to imagine how hard it must have been for Luke to keep up a smile through such hurtful moments to protect Denny from an ignorance she couldn’t have escaped for much longer.
But that was what dads did, or so she assumed.
She wouldn’t know. She couldn’t even remember what her father’s voice sounded like when he wasn’t yelling.
The kindest treatment she’d got from him was neglect.
Denny had been loved and cared for, and yet fate had found other ways to wound her.
“I’m sorry, Sunshine.”
“They would’ve let any white man walk away with me without batting an eyelid.” Denny’s voice was coarse with anger now. “My best friend was a Desi girl with white parents and no one had ever questioned her father when he picked her up.”
“Talk about double standards, huh?”
“Dad always told me to forget about it, that people were prejudiced—that’s how I learned what prejudice is—, but I… It made me so angry. And I knew it was my fault—”
“None of this is your fault.”
“—because I didn’t look enough like him. If I hadn’t looked the way I do, I wouldn’t have had to fight strangers in the street who wanted to take me away from my dad...”
There was nothing Eris could say that wouldn’t sound extremely hypocritical. People were prejudiced and they wouldn’t have questioned Luke if his daughter’s skin had been the same colour as his.
“Sorry,” Denny sniffed. “I didn’t mean— You went through much worse than this…”
“No, hey, stop that.” Eris reached out to get a few curls out of the way so that she could look Denny in the eye. “This is not a competition: my shit doesn’t invalidate yours. You have a right to grieve for whatever hurts you. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”
Denny’s face opened up into a grateful tight-lipped smile that couldn’t fully conceal a slight tremble in her chin. “Dad was so right about you.”
Before Eris had a chance to ask what she meant, Denny jumped up like a spring.
“What?”
“Hold on!”
Denny ran off towards the entrance. There was some shuffling, a thud followed by a muffled curse, then she came back, massaging a hip.
“Bumped into the shoe cabinet again?”
“Shut up.” Denny plopped down on the couch and handed Eris a tiny green paper pouch. “It’s been in my bag for days, I’d completely forgotten. My parents got this for you in Kiwiland.”
“Kiwiland?”
“New Zealand.”
Eris had just moved in with Denny when Heather and Luke were in New Zealand... And they’d bought her a present. Why would they buy a stranger a souvenir?
Puzzled, she opened the pouch and flipped it down: two small boxes fell out of it. One had fancy earplugs printed on it, the other just a brand: Māori by Design.
“The earplugs are a separate gift,” said Denny. “My dad uses them at work, says you should try them. Unlike your headphones, they don’t cancel everything, just most of the background noise. You can still have a conversation with them in.”
The plugs looked expensive, designed like a fashionable accessory rather than safety aids. But that wasn’t why Eris was at a loss for words.
“You told him about the restaurant.”
Denny hesitated. “My mum was disappointed that you couldn’t join us for coffee and I… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have mentioned it without—”
“No, no, this is…” Eris shook her head. “You told your dad I have issues with noise and his response was offering a solution…” She held up the plugs with a moved little laugh. “Do you realise how many times I’ve been called whiny and overdramatic for this?”
Denny’s nervousness waned. Compassion replaced it. “As many times as I got called sloppy and forgetful, I guess.”
There could be a diamond in the second box, for all Eris cared, and it couldn’t have held a candle to the plugs. When she opened it, however, her heart skipped: on a velvet pillow lay a coil-shaped stone jewel, speckled moss green fading to golden brown towards the centre. Just like Denny’s eyes.
“It’s pounamu, the Māori sacred stone.”
There was a small card with it: ‘Resembling the unfurling frond of the native New Zealand fern, the koru depicts new beginnings, life, and hope.’
Eris had no choice but to take back her previous thought about the plugs: the two gifts deserved a tie after reading that card. She was getting this necklace now, but it had been purchased for her when she had just met Denny and perhaps its magic had worked even from afar.
“Are your parents psychic or something?”
“I’d say it’s kismet.”
Eris tugged carefully at the pendant. It slipped out of the velvet, along with a thin black string. She stuck her head into the circle of the string, flipped her hair out, then pulled at the slipknots.
“Let me,” said Denny. Nimble fingers replaced Eris’ and within seconds the string was snug around her neck, the cold stone perfectly centred between her clavicles. She was never going to take it off.
“I have to thank them for this—for everything.”
“Want to invite them over for dinner? Chill night at home, we cook something nice.”
Eris cracked a smirk. “Sounds a lot like a coming out dinner.”
“Oh, they know about us. They kind of pried it out of me, but I swear they already knew!”
Eris lagged. She wasn’t the kind of girl a parent dreamed to see at their daughter’s side, especially in upper class families like the Alabis.
A knee poked her thigh. “Why are you making that face? They’re happy for us!”
“Are they?” Eris was sceptical, but Denny’s excitement was indubitably genuine.
“They can see how happy you make me and how much you care about me. It’s all that matters to them.”