7. Solenne #2
I slide into bed on Summer’s other side. She immediately reaches for my hand, her small fingers wrapping around mine.
“Will you check the window?”
Valentin glances at the curtained windows, understanding immediately. “Of course.” He gets up and crosses to the nearest one, pulling back the curtain to reveal the glass beneath. “See? Closed tight. No birds can get in.”
“What about the other one?”
He checks it too, making a show of testing the latch. “Also closed. And locked. This is a very secure room. Definitely bird-proof.”
Summer watches him with solemn attention, evaluating his inspection. “What if the bird is magic?”
“Then Bunny will have to use her anti-magic powers.”
“Bunny doesn’t have anti-magic powers.”
“She does now. I just gave them to her.” Valentin returns to bed and settles on his side, facing Summer. “Every rabbit who survives a dream attack gets special powers. It’s a rule.”
Summer’s brow furrows as she processes this information. “What kind of powers?”
“Invisibility, mostly. So if any magic birds come looking for her, she can just disappear.”
“Can she turn me invisible too?”
“Probably. You’d have to ask her.”
Summer lifts Bunny and holds her up to her ear, listening intently to whatever the rabbit might be saying. After a moment she nods seriously and lowers Bunny back to the pillow.
“She says yes, but only in emergencies.”
“That seems fair.”
Summer finally lets go of my hand to inspect Bunny’s paws. I flex my fingers under the blanket. Valentin catches the movement and mouths, ‘Asleep?’ I shake my head, smiling despite myself, and he lowers his voice.
Summer yawns hugely, her eyes already starting to droop. The terror of the dream is fading, replaced by the warmth of the bed and the comfort of having both parents close.
“Tell me about Bunny’s powers,” she murmurs.
Valentin shifts closer, propping his head on his hand. “Well, besides invisibility, she can also fly.”
“Bunnies can’t fly.”
“Magic bunnies can. But only at night, when no one’s watching.”
“Where does she fly to?”
“The moon, mostly. She has friends there.”
“Moon friends?”
“Moon rabbits. There’s a whole kingdom of them. They have tiny castles made of cheese.”
Summer giggles sleepily. “Cheese castles would smell bad.”
“Moon cheese is different. It smells like flowers.”
“That’s silly.”
“Moon things are often silly. That’s what makes them fun.”
I lie on my side and watch them, father and daughter weaving nonsense in the dark. Summer’s eyes are closing now, her breathing starting to slow, but she keeps murmuring questions and Valentin keeps answering them, his voice getting softer and softer until it’s barely more than a whisper.
“And the moon rabbits… do they have a queen?”
“Of course. Queen Buntholomew. She wears a crown made of starlight.”
“Buntholomew is a funny name.”
“All moon rabbit names are funny. It’s tradition.”
Summer doesn’t answer. Her breathing has evened out into the rhythm of genuine sleep, her hand gone slack around mine. Bunny is tucked under her chin, ears pressed against her cheek.
Valentin meets my eyes over Summer’s sleeping form. For a moment we just look at each other, two parents on either side of their child, the argument from earlier suspended but not resolved.
“After the fiesta,” he whispers. “We’ll really talk. I promise.”
I don’t answer.
“I love you, Solenne.”
Summer has turned onto her side, facing him. I draw the blanket over the gap at her shoulder, and Valentin holds up his arm so I can tuck it in.
I love this man. That is still the part I cannot get around. But tonight he has only made room for me when I stopped asking him to listen.
“Go to sleep,” I tell him.
He watches me for a moment longer, something flickering behind his eyes. Then he settles back against his pillow and closes his eyes.
I lie there listening to both of them breathe, Summer between us like a small warm anchor. The room is quiet except for the distant sound of waves. Eventually my eyes grow heavy, and I let them close.
Sleep comes in fits and starts, thin and restless. I dream of nothing I can hold onto.
***
Gray light is seeping around the curtains when I wake.
Valentin’s pillow is empty on Summer’s other side. I can hear Valentin in the bathroom, the quiet sounds of someone trying not to disturb a sleeping household. The shower runs briefly, then stops. Water in the sink. The soft thump of the medicine cabinet closing.
Summer is still asleep in the middle of the bed, sprawled on her stomach now, Bunny wedged between her and my pillow. She didn’t wake again after the nightmare. Small mercies.
I stay very still, watching the bathroom door. After a few minutes Valentin emerges, dressed for his meeting, his hair still damp. He retrieves a clean jacket from the closet and checks the pockets before putting it on.
He notices I’m awake and crosses to my side of the bed, bending to press a kiss to my forehead.
“Go back to sleep,” he whispers. “I’ll try to be home for dinner.”
I don’t answer. He straightens, checks his watch, and heads for the door. His footsteps fade down the hallway, then the stairs. A minute later I hear the front door open and close. A car engine starts in the drive.
Then silence.
I count to sixty, listening for any sound of his return. Nothing. He’s gone.
I slip out of bed carefully, trying not to disturb Summer, and pull on my robe. The closet door opens silently when I ease it back. On the top shelf, behind a stack of winter sweaters I never wear, there’s a small overnight bag I brought from Los Angeles. I haven’t touched it since we unpacked.
I pull it down and set it on the floor.
Moving quickly, I collect a few things from my dresser. Underwear, a change of clothes, toiletries. I put them in the bag and carry it through the connecting door.
Summer’s room is dim, the curtains still drawn. Her small dresser holds neat stacks of clothes that Delfina organized weeks ago. I open the top drawer as quietly as I can and pull out a few items. A dress she likes. Leggings. A sweater. Clean underwear. I tuck them into the bag with my things.
Back in the master bedroom, Summer is still asleep, her face peaceful, one arm flung out across the empty space where Valentin was lying. I zip the bag most of the way closed and carry it to the closet.
“Mama?”
I freeze.
Summer is sitting up in bed, rubbing her eyes with one hand. Bunny dangles from the other. She’s looking at me, at the bag in my hands.
“Where are we going?”
I should have been faster. I should have hidden it before she woke up.
“We’re just playing pretend,” I tell her. “Go back to sleep, baby.”
“Playing pretend with a bag?”
“Sometimes pretend needs props.” I close the zip and slide the bag onto the closet floor behind a row of winter coats. “See? All done.”
Summer watches me close the closet door. Then she lifts Bunny by both paws.
“Can Bunny come?”
“Bunny comes wherever you go.”
She accepts that, lying back on the pillow with the rabbit against her cheek. I sit beside her until her eyelids grow heavy again, one bare foot resting on the cold floor.
The bag stays packed.