Page 125 of The Shade of Things
A dandelion sprouted up through a broken section of sidewalk. Its stem was bent, and it was missing a couple of petals, but despite being trod on, it fought to survive.
Stupid weed. I ground it underfoot and continued on my way.
* * *
My walk was made longer than usual because I stuck to side streets due to my bloody shirt, so I didn’t make it to my place until dawn. I knocked softly on Eli’s door to let him know that Sadie could go to school and there was no need to worry her with the details. Everything had been sorted.
My lip trembled when I said that.
Eli opened his mouth, but I shook my head. Kindness would be my undoing right now.
I stumbled into my house, not craving a drink anymore. It had only been a means to an end of blotting everything out, and since I was blurry with exhaustion, I stepped over the wreckage of my coffee table, collapsed on my sofa, pulled the blanket over me, and passed out.
I slept well into the afternoon, but all those hours of rest did nothing against the fatigue sunk deep into my bones. Even a long, hot shower and copious amounts of coffee didn’t help, and I wondered if I’d ever feel refreshed again. If I’d ever be free of my past, able to bound out of bed each morning to take on a new day with enthusiasm.
Putting on talk radio so I wasn’t alone with my thoughts, I methodically checked all pockets before dumping the laundry in the wash.
Part of me insisted that even if I didn’t work for Tatiana, the game still had to be shut down. I jammed some towels into the washer. I wouldn’t do it for her, I’d do it for all those poor Sapiens who’d lost their lives and to prevent anyone else from experiencing that nightmare.
Another part of me knew how futile it was to bother: a drop in an ocean of cruelty. Even if I shut it down and thwarted the Consortium, so what? There’d be another Consortium, another way that Ohrists took advantage of Sapiens. Or Banim Shovavim. Or each other.
I dumped detergent in and started the washing machine. Let saving the world be someone else’s problem. Satisfied with my decision, I even did some home renovations. The laundry hamper that I’d turned upside down worked great as a new coffee table and hid the pile of detritus underneath it.
That crack to Gehenna rose up in my memory like a smile, and I gripped the top of my sofa before thoroughly stuffing that vision inside a locked box deep in my soul.
The good news was that I didn’t have time to dwell on the fate of the world, my parents, or anyone’s well-being. Nope. I was too busy being entertained and informed by daytime television while eating low-fat, only slightly stale pretzels. Between real-life baby daddy drama, tips to refresh my fall wardrobe, and exciting uses for quinoa, the hours passed quickly by.
Honestly, it was the vacation I hadn’t known I needed.
It was also the vacation that was rudely interrupted that night by multiple calls from Emmett. I ignored them, since I was, you know, on vacation, and they eventually stopped. I didn’t even feel guilty, because he was either calling about the dybbuk enthrallment hotline or Tatiana. If it was the first, tough titty. Ohrists knew the dangers of lowered inhibitions during the Danger Zone. Not my problem.
If it was the second? Not. My. Problem.
The sofa was so comfortable that I slept there that night as well. Zev was damn lucky that he hadn’t damaged it with his little tantrum. Why go all the way upstairs, get changed, and get into a cold bed, when I’d warmed these cushions up quite nicely, the glow of the television screen was cozy, and all my delicious snacks were mere steps away?
I tipped the last of the dry cereal into my mouth. Probably should get milk at some point.
Nobody phoned on Saturday morning, which was great, because I’d settled in to watch a fascinating documentary on fungus. I had not known that they were classified as plants as recently as the 1960s, and I was a sucker for a good fact.
Plus, this replacement coffee table was a great height to rest my feet on. I might just keep the hamper here permanently. Rattan went with everything, right?
When someone knocked loudly on my door, I turned up the volume, but even once I’d hit maximum levels, the British narrator now screaming about a fungi that created zombie ants, I was unable to drown out my visitor.
Dragging my blanket like a bedraggled cape, I flung my front door open. “I’m. On. Vacation.” I shut the door on Laurent.
He braced his hand against it before it closed and leaned in. Dark stubble dusted his tight jaw, his curls were rumpled, and he smelled so good. A cedar anchor. Except he belonged to my real life, which I wasn’t dealing with at the moment. “The golem showed up at my place last night,” he said. “With a suitcase.”
“Not my problem.” Such a handy phrase with a wide spectrum of applications.
“Tatiana has been on a tear,” he said.
I shuddered at his word choice, slamming the brakes on another vision of that ghastly crack.
Laurent narrowed his eyes. “Care to comment?”
“Nope.” I struggled to push him back. “If I miss the rest of the zombie ants, I’m going to be very put out.”
“Zombie…?” He shook his head. “She made Marjorie cry. Raymond quit. Still nothing to say?”
