Michael took a deep breath. “It’s nothing … drop me off anywhere.” He didn’t sound like himself, broken, exhausted, and slightly delirious. She pushed the gas pedal harder, gripping the steering wheel until her knuckles turned white. She didn’t know why she was helping him but her stomach somersaulted, nerves attacking her. She dug in a deep breath trying not to break into a full-blown panic attack and took the turn into the hospital parking lot.
“No,” she said, trying to make her words sound undisputable. She pulled up the Emergency ramp and parked on an angle in one of the few stalls. She helped him out of the car, noticing that his leather jacket was open, showing off his shirt and a strip of pale skin where it rode up. She blinked. The only bit of color on him was the silver belt with little square studs. She grabbed him by the elbow and forced him ahead of her, locking the back door for him. She pressed her fingers into his back, inching him forward.
He glanced at her, a gash on his forehead and a line of blood down his cheek. He had a wad of Kleenex blocking his nose and mouth. It was red at the edges, his nose still bleeding. His eyes looked pleading, begging her to let him go. She steeled herself, pushing him through the sliding double doors. Forcing him into a seat, she crossed the room, leaning over the powder blue counter. The nurse, in turquoise medical scrubs, surgical mask around her neck, took down the name and told her to wait. Maeva sat in the seat across from Michael and studied his face.
He pulled the Kleenex away and glowered at her. “I don’t want to be here,” he said, his tone terse. He pulled his left arm tighter to his body and crunched his other hand into a fist.
“Too bad,” she fired back. She glanced at the clock and the other people in the room, groups of them huddled together. She sat back trying to ignore him and pulled her phone out of her pocket. She angled herself away from Michael and dialed Red Boot, waiting while it rang almost ten times before someone picked up.
“Red Boot Restaurant,” Dino said.
“Hey, it’s Maeva. I’m not going to be able to make my shift tonight,” she said, trying to sound professional and not like some delinquent teenager.
“Oh,” Dino said, sounding disappointed. “Why not?”
“Uh … I’m at the hospital.” She cringed, waiting for Dino to come down on her or something. He was a nice guy but a tough boss.
“You’re not hurt are you? Did you see that accident on First?”
Maeva let out the breath she was holding in. “Yeah I saw the whole thing. I’m … I have to make a statement for the police and stuff.”
“God, that’ll take hours.”
“I know, so I thought I’d call.…”
“No worries. I’ll see you tomorrow, right?”
“Afternoon shift?”
“You got it. Okay I have to go.” Dino hung up before Maeva said goodbye. She slid the iPhone back into her pocket and turned to Michael. He leaned forward, both elbows on his knees, hands pressed together. His skin was very pale, his cheeks sharp angles, thick black eyebrows, long black lashes. His lips were a straight line. With blood caked on his face he looked like a serial killer. What broke Maeva were his eyes, soft, incredulous, sad eyes.
“You don’t have to stay. I can call my uncle.…” His voice was smooth, his accent perfect.
Maeva pulled her phone out and stared at the screen. “What’s his number?”
Michael sighed and turned his head to the side. Maeva caught a glimpse of slick sweat on his neck. He seemed more nervous than she was. “Never mind.”
She drew a shaky breath and put the phone in her pocket. She leaned forward, but her forehead almost touched his and she sat up straight, put her hands in her lap and crossed one foot behind the other. She glanced at the time, nearing five, and waited. The nurses called two of the other groups, while more people wandered in and put their names on the list. An old guy sat down a few seats from them, violently coughing into his beige trench coat.
“Why did you help me?” Michael asked seventeen minutes later.
Maeva looked at him. She had her feet slung over the armrests of the chair beside her and was playing a game on her phone. “I didn’t know it was you.”
“But you called into work.”
She felt uncomfortable. True, she was sitting there with him, waiting for it to be his turn but she couldn’t really explain why she was there. She wanted to believe it was something she’d do for anyone, even him. She shot him a wry smile. “You needed me more.”
He seemed stricken by the words and she averted her gaze to her game, not wanting him to think she liked him or something. She pulled back the slingshot and watched the little bird arch across the screen. Bored with it, she clicked the home button and brought the phone back to its array of apps.
“Michael Norton?” the nurse announced.
Michael stood and looked at Maeva expectantly, silently telling her she could leave. “I’m not leaving,” she said, going back to her phone. He let out a grunt and disappeared from the waiting room. Maeva sat there for a long time, playing another useless game on her phone. The lump in her throat grew as she thought about his messy jet-black hair, his sad broken eyes, his attitude. He was so hard to get through to. Why couldn’t a simple act of kindness be just that? Instead he had to break it down and dissect every reason behind her actions. She was so frustrated he couldn’t act like a regular person. Everything about him was a little off. He was smarter than everyone at school, and a matriculate perfectionist. He knew a ton of different languages and spent more time scribbling down symbols than paying attention in class. He didn’t talk to anyone at school unless he had to. He didn’t join clubs, or sports. He was a mystery to every girl in school, not to mention a bona fide bad boy. Maeva shifted in the uncomfortable leather upholstered seat. He was sexy, in a way that made it hurt to look at him. She kept trying to find some antidote for sweaty palms and elevated heart rate, but in the four months since he showed up, nothing helped. She tried to ignore him but found herself glancing at his long fingers, bony wrists, and muscled forearms. She had accidentally traced the line of his lips in the waiting room and felt a blush creep up her neck.
The emergency doors slid open and a man in a black trench coat and graying hair crossed the room. He glanced at her, and for a split second she thought he knew who she was. She pulled her legs off the chair and sat straight, slipping her phone into her pocket. His conversation with the nurse was muffled. She craned her neck to see them, and the man in the trench coat met her gaze, still listening to the nurse. He nodded and Maeva looked at the floor, his brown loafers coming into view.
“Miss Jonsson?”
She looked up and bit her lip, knots in her stomach. He sat across from her and rested his hands on his knees, seeming nervous.
“Is he okay?” She guessed he was the uncle.
The man nodded. “Sprained wrist, bleeding nose. Nothing … fatal,” he said; his voice edgy on the last word. He had a thicker accent than Michael. She looked at the floor, wanting to hug her knees to her chest, but the chair was too small. She twisted her hands in her lap.
“Sorry,” the man said, extending his hand to her. “I’m Tom Norton, Michael’s Uncle.”
She hesitantly took his hand, feeling weird about the gesture. An awkward silence followed. He already seemed to know her name, even though she’d never met him. She had given the nurse her name when she came in. That’s probably how he knew.
“Did they say how long?”
Tom bristled. “You don’t need to stay.”
Maeva pressed her lips together and glanced behind her at the double gray doors. Part of her wanted to tell Michael she was leaving, but she wasn’t allowed to go back there. She looked at Tom and nodded. She stood, pulled her jacket on, and zipped it up. She pulled her thin mittens out of her pockets and stretched her fingers into them.
“Tell him I’ll … I’ll see him at school,” she stuttered as she headed towards the exit.
“Indeed I will,” Tom said. He seemed amused, and s
he was bewildered by it.
***
Chapter 18
Dating and Boys
Pux stood in the bathroom staring at himself in the mirror. He had the same enchanting brown eyes but everything else about him was distinctly human. Smooth skin, small curved ears, mop of brown hair. He didn’t do a lot with it, other than muss it around, making it look windblown. He rubbed his jaw, feeling bristles of stubble rising on his jawline and frowned. He didn’t like being furry. He glanced at the plain silver band on his right hand, the only ring in the store with symbols he recognized engraved on the inside of it. The guy seemed to have been holding onto it for a long time and thought his enthusiasm was weird. Pux ran a hand through his hair slicking it back then pulled it forward so it fell into his eyebrows. That was better. Locks curled near the nape of his neck and he did what he could to smooth them out.
He was terrified.
Seeing Kaliel the first time was hard enough. He forgot to ask her what the plan was and knew nothing about New Year’s Eve celebrations other than what the internet told him about Times Square and dropping a ball. Human traditions were so weird. He watched a video of last year’s celebration and looked up where Times Square was. It wasn’t likely she was taking him there. He glanced at his attire, a brown tee Shimma made him buy that read “I smile because I have no idea what’s going on” and boot cut dark Levi’s. He planned on wearing steel-toed boots, but kept wondering if they were spending the night indoors or outdoors. It was cold outside.
He ducked into his room and pulled on a brown sweater, flipping the hood over his head. He stuck his hands in the pockets and padded down the hall. Shimma bounced up from her seat at the kitchen table and blocked the hallway, pressing her hands on either side of the wall. She had a grin on her face, her eyes full of mischief.
“Where are you going?”
Pux hadn’t told her about it and half hoped he wouldn’t have to, but taking the Camaro for a twelve-hour drive to and from Kenora without Shimma knowing was impossible. He shrugged. “She called … I’m going to meet her.”
Shimma laughed; her expression scornful. “All by yourself?” She moved to the living room and flopped on the couch. “Aren’t you brave.” She sniggered and Pux twisted his hands into fists inside his sweater.
“She sounded … lonely.”
Shimma waved him away, leaning over the coffee table and typing something on the laptop. She shot him a smile. “Don’t come back until tomorrow.” She slid the keys to him and they fell off the ledge landing in the thick ivory shag rug. He bent and scooped them up, pausing at the door to put his boots on.
“Why?”
She smoothed out her hair and batted her eyelashes, looking like a devious temptress. “They come to see Svetlana, master of Tarot Reading,” she said in a perfect Russian accent.
Pux stifled a laugh and pushed the door open. The Camaro was a sweet vehicle, much better than the tiny Audi Shimma had in Oslo. He cringed at the fresh memories of narrow European streets and confusing traffic lights. Canada was easier, barely anyone on the roads and once he was out of the city limits he could relax.
It was around two when he spotted a sign for Dryden, and needed to stop for gas. He didn’t like Shimma’s music, always some German techno song with a lot of grunting in it. He popped the gas cap and filled it with unleaded. The convenience store was full of candy and chocolate, which at first was tempting but after a stint with too much chocolate and a lot of acne he stayed away from the stuff. He noticed a rack with CDs and skimmed through the titles, choosing two albums with Celtic Folk Music. He paid at the front, avoiding the funny stares from the beefy guy behind the counter.
The music was soothing: rocking fiddlers, swooning singers and inspirational drummers. He loved the authenticity; it reminded him of every night he spent at Castle Tavesin, every jig he danced with Kaliel … and Jack. The song shifted from joy to sorrow and in an instant, tears were streaming down his cheeks. He missed Jack. He didn’t want to hate her anymore, didn’t want to blame her for the storm that took away the boy he loved, but it was her fault. He slammed the steering wheel with his palm and wiped tears out of his eyes, white and yellow lines on the road turning blurry.
Jack and the villagers were innocent. Just because he escaped didn’t make him feel any less guilty, nor did it make the atrocity of her destruction any less catastrophic. She wiped out thousands of innocent people, all for the sake of Krishani. It was such a reckless and stupid thing to do. Pux’s chest heaved and he sputtered, letting out a primal cry. He promised himself he would hold it together. He forgave her, but after all this time, he didn’t understand why she did it. Why she traded the Flames, why she handed victory to the Valtanyana. Pux hated Morgana with every fiber of his being. That little girl took everything sacred about Avristar and turned it profane. The rest were no better, ruling with iron fists and demanding obedience.
He saw a sign marking the turn off for Vermillion Bay. He had to get it together, refusing to arrive red-eyed. Tonight was supposed to be about getting to know her again, and for him, mending the broken friendship. The past was in the past. He glanced at himself in the rear view mirror, bright brown eyes, framed with thin lashes. “Don’t mess it up,” he told himself, trying to erase the weight on his chest.
Two hours later he pulled onto Second Street and began the search for a parking spot. The street was alive with energy, despite the dismal snow and ice. The sky was a clear blue, the sun making it colder outside. He never thought of clouds as being thermal until he lived in Thunder Bay. Cars lined side streets, and people filled sidewalks, heading to every restaurant in the vicinity. He went around the block a few times before stopping in the middle of the street so a blue Focus could exit a parking spot. He parallel parked; liking the fact that of the things he was naturally skilled at, driving was one of them.
He stepped into chaos at Red Boot Restaurant. People crowded the tiny foyer between the doors, trying to stay warm as they waited for tables. He passed them, and found a young girl at the front, acting as a hostess, the “Please Seat Yourself” sign nowhere to be found. She looked at him expectantly.
“Oh, I’m here to see Kal …” He cut himself off and frowned, realizing he forgot the name she said over the phone. He gave the girl a sheepish look. “Uh, short server with curly black hair?” he tried.
“Maeva?” She looked stressed and perturbed as she walked the length of the restaurant. She heard a shrill voice shout “Maeva,” but when the hostess returned, everything about her was as prim as before, awkward angry outburst aside. “You can wait over there,” she said, pointing to a space against the wall. Pux pressed his back against it and put his hands in his pockets. He bought an actual winter jacket when the temperatures dipped below minus ten. It was thick gray polyester, insulation on the inside under triangles of nylon. It had no hood, but he liked the shape of the collar and the way it made his shoulders look bigger.
Maeva appeared, her face flushed, showing off silver glitter on her cheeks. She had a lot of makeup on, her eyes outlined in black and smoky silver eye shadow. Her hair was down, unruly curls reaching the middle of her back and framing her face. She wore a black V-neck sparkly top with dark skinny jeans stuffed into her winter boots. Her winter jacket hung off her shoulders and trailed to her knees. On one shoulder she had her backpack and in her right hand she was holding a pair of black ballet flats. She cringed at the girl at the front when she saw the crowd.
Pux thought she looked awesome. He didn’t say anything as she apologized to the hostess and turned her attention to him.
“You ready?” she asked, wiggling her eyebrows.
He laughed nonchalantly as he led her through the throng of people into the chilly street. “I don’t even know what we’re doing.”
She walked in step with him as he hurried down the street and stopped at the Camaro. He rounded the car and looked at her over the roof as he opened the door for himself. She looked impressed. He got in, realizing he didn’
t do that cheesy thing guys do, opening the door for the girl. She pulled the door open with her free hand and put her stuff in the back. She sat and untied her winter boots, switching them with the ballet flats. He waited, cold air blasting into the car. She pulled the door closed and rubbed lip gloss on her lips.
“Sorry, I just got off work,” she said, clicking her seatbelt into place.
Pux tapped the steering wheel and revved the engine, not trying to impress her but nervous because this girl was an alien planet, not the Kaliel he used to know. Compared to the last time he saw her, this was marginally better. He let out a laugh as Celtic music streamed into the car and he clicked it off, self-conscious about his taste in music. He looked at her, realizing he hadn’t said anything. “Um, are you going to tell me what the plan is?”
“Uhh … no. But I’ll give you directions,” she said, a mischievous smile on her face. She put her hands in her lap and told him to go down Main, and towards Ninth. She glanced at the radio and then at him. “What were you listening to?”
Pux shied away, embarrassed. “It’s nothing.”
“Sorry, can you hang on a second?” She twisted to the back seat, trying to reach something. He drove past City Hall as she dug through her backpack. She flopped back onto the front seat, phone in hand. “Turn right at the rotunda,” she said, pointing.
Pux didn’t say anything as he followed her directions, unsure how to act around her. She dialed someone and put the phone to her ear. He heard only half the conversation and it didn’t give away much about what they were doing. Kaliel asked a girl named Julie if “it” was still on and if they had to bring a donation. She was off the phone in a few seconds.
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