Chapter 23 Rip Current #2
“I think I just wanted to believe that you were the cause of our problems. That we’re not fucked.” I laugh bitterly. I’m ashamed to realize my eyes are welling.
“You raised a lot of money, you’ll be okay,” he says.
“Why do you keep saying ‘you’?” I ask. “ ‘Your’ money, ‘your’ clinic? Doesn’t that sound suspicious?”
“I—I don’t deserve to have any ownership over it.” His voice is soft as he looks out at the water. “After what I did… It’s not about being ashamed, it’s about being unworthy.”
“Funny,” I whisper. “I feel the same way.”
His head snaps toward me. “You’re strong and brave, helping so many people, and—”
“Stop,” I interrupt. “I don’t want compliments, that’s not what I mean.
They’re ramping up their campaign against us, don’t you see that?
If they don’t put us out of business this time, they’ll find another way to get what they want soon enough.
Who can withstand that? Come on, you should know.
You used to be one of them. They’re all so brainwashed by their rich overlords that they’ll believe—”
“Listen, I don’t like them,” Aaron interrupts. “But they do have agency. They’re not just puppets. They have deeply held beliefs fueling them, not just propaganda.”
“Great. Well, they’re using that ‘agency’ to destroy us.
” I look out at the churning gray water and am struck by how wrong I was about Aaron, how wrong I might be about everything.
The words come out of me before I can stop them.
A confession, a cry for help, to a person that I wanted so badly to love and then so badly to hate.
“There’s a cloud over my head. I feel like I’m drowning all the time. ”
“You’re in a rip current,” Aaron says. “Even the strongest swimmer could drown.”
Something breaks in me. I cover my face to hide the tears pouring down my cheeks. I’m shaking, cold and hot at the same time. An arm wraps around me, then another. He’s holding me. I try to believe his words. I really do.
Eventually, Aaron drives me home, then gives my hand a reassuring squeeze as I leave the car. I feel empty, but not alone.
“You’re wasting your time,” Muya says from my kitchen table the moment I unlock my door.
I’m too tired to scream. “We have to stop meeting like this,” I deadpan.
“If you would behave like a powerful woman instead of an idiotic little girl—” He stops himself. “I’m here to apologize. What I did to you, it was wrong. Even if you’re a thief and a moron, it was wrong.”
“What do you want from me, Muya?” I drop into the chair across from him.
I don’t know if Asmodeus and Muya are working together or are independently evil.
I don’t know if Shreya’s right and they’re being controlled.
I don’t know why Muya would teach me to access memories that paint him in such a harsh light or to channel powers that could be used against him.
Nothing makes sense. And yet, something has shifted inside me over the last five weeks, so subtly that I haven’t noticed until now.
I’m confident in my instincts, in my own brain—it’s an odd feeling.
And instinct tells me to listen to him. I’m going to figure this Muya situation out, tonight.
“I want to help.” I scoff, but he leans forward, more earnest than I’ve ever seen him.
“Instead of forcing your hand, I will explain. I should have from the start. It seems that you have decided that I am to blame for Usha’s misfortune.
But that’s not true. I never betrayed her.
I tried to help her, but she grew afraid and trapped me instead.
You don’t have to believe me, and at this point I don’t think I can change your mind.
And yet—despite my best efforts to leave you idiot humans behind—I have come to try. ”
“Try what?” I ask.
“To save your life. Asmodeus is formidable, but the human working with him, whoever it is, is far more powerful than you could ever imagine.”
“Don’t worry, I figured that out myself.”
Muya slams his hands onto the table, and I flinch. “Listen to me! You are wasting your time with that bland little boy from your clinic—don’t give me that look, of course I followed you—but clearing his name doesn’t matter. You cannot win. You are going to die.”
“And my power will die with me, blah, blah, blah,” I say. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
“Give up your power to that other demon and survive.”
For a moment, I just stare at him. My brain has gone fully offline. Then I start to laugh. “Was this the plan all along? In the end, you would send me to him?”
“Are you truly this stupid?” He looks wounded, but I remember he’s a demon of ignorance.
He could easily be manipulating me. “I am trying to save your life, your livelihood. If you keep resisting, you will die. Everything you love and everyone you love will suffer. I’ve seen it happen, don’t you understand?
I’ve seen it happen—” He cuts himself off. If he’s lying, he’s due for an Oscar.
“Why shouldn’t I give the power back to you?”
“As much as I would like that, he would destroy you for giving the power to someone else. It’s not worth it.”
“You’ve changed,” I say.
“Yes,” he says simply. “I no longer think you’re a worthless human. But you can do whatever you wish. It’s no longer my concern, you’ve made that clear.” I gape at him as he pushes the chair back so hard it topples over and stalks out of the apartment.
For so many years of this work, I have felt completely powerless.
When the Supreme Court acted without proof or law or history on its side, I was consumed by hypotheticals.
If only they had read the recipe for inducing abortion that Ben Franklin, an actual Founding Father, included in one of his books!
If only they didn’t credit the invented opinions of people who didn’t even understand germ theory, let alone fetal development!
If only they saw that most people throughout history accepted abortions in the first trimester!
In time, though, I came to understand that it was never about scientific evidence or historical precedent.
It was about power and control. So I gave up.
And yet—I feel a shift inside me, slow but finally apparent.
I do still have some choices left to me, some meaning to make.
I rise so fast my chair clatters to the ground, too, and begin my todas. There’s no music, just the rapid beating of my heart and a burning will to understand.
Please, I beg the past. I need help.