“Yeah, they get bored sometimes so they try to help. It’s a thing for sprites.” Carmen takes the pages and shakes them out, a flurry of green falls away and lands in a heap on the table. “Nobody will ever know.”
“Um, how do I know if they are right?” Holly worries, remembering her markings on the ones she wanted to give higher marks to.
“They are.”
“How do you know?” Holly doesn’t get it.
“Are you sure you wanna know?” Carmen asks, skeptical. “I mean, most people get creeped out by sprites.”
“I need to know that these papers are graded correctly before I can pass them out,” Holly groans. “Just tell me.”
“Well, remember when you fell asleep the other night and the next morning stuff got cleaned while you were gone?” Carmen begins. “The sprites sort of read you when you sleep, copy relevant thoughts and then use them to help you.”
“They were in my head?” Holly balks.
“See, people get creeped out,” Carmen reminds her. “They don’t mean anything by it, just how they’re made. You know that whole story about the shoemaker and the elves? It was really a shoemaker and some sprites.”
“Oh.” Holly thinks about it for minute. “Cool. Is this like a long term thing? I mean, can they do it for the rest of the year?”
“I don’t think it works that way,” Carmen said. “But maybe. I guess we will have to see. Sprites only stay around so long as they are needed. Then they leave.”
“But I need them. I mean, I am sure I could find lots of stuff for them to do.” Holly considers just how much easier her life could be with a few sprites to magically help her.
“Yeah, I know it doesn’t work that way.” Carmen heads for the kitchen. “So, how about some wine before bed.”
“Why doesn’t it work that way?” Holly wonders.
“Because it doesn’t. Sprites know when they’re needed and when they aren’t. It’s their private code.” Carmen sits on the couch and looks expectantly at Holly. “So, wine?”
“Yeah, okay, just a sec.” Holly packs up her essays for tomorrow and makes sure to set an alarm on her phone. She lopes out to the kitchen, uncorks her last bottle of red wine, and grabs two glasses by the stems.
“Ah, wine.” Carmen accepts her glass and waits for the pour. She takes a sip and her eyes flutter back in her head a bit. “I do love human wine. It’s surprisingly good even though it’s made from grapes.”
Holly sighs. “Let me guess, Elven wine is much better?”
“Of course not.” Carmen shudders. “Elves make terrible wine. Dwarves make delicious wine.”
“Oh, of course.” Holly settles on the couch, careful not to spill her own wine. “Are you staying all night? I can make up the guest bed for you?”
“Nah, I don’t need to sleep. I’ll just watch you.” Carmen sips at her wine, oblivious to Holly’s dismay.
“You’re going to watch me sleep?” Holly finally asks.
“No, I’m just going to watch your house. Sheesh, I’m not a creep.” Carmen shakes her head. “But if you have sexy dreams again I may eavesdrop.”
“Maybe we could just stay here on the couch?” Holly suggests. She has no desire to go up and sleep with Greg. Especially if she dreams of Tristan again.
“You need to just break up with the guy, Hol,” Carmen advises, “even I know that.”
“It’s not that easy. We live together. We’ve been together for years.” Holly looks away. “And I can’t afford this place without him. I’d have to move home.”
“Oh. I see.” Carmen falls quiet, contemplative. “Would that be so bad?”
“Yes,” Holly says into her glass.
CHAPTER FIVE
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Holly asks for the hundredth time, asking herself as much as her friend.
“Of course,” Carmen confirms yet again. “It will be good to meet your mother.”
“That’s what you think.” Holly grumbles, “She hasn’t been the same since Dad.”
“Neither have you, Hol,” Carmen points out. “Cut her some slack. She clearly loves you.”
“She’d love to have me married off to a man of her choosing.”
“What about Greg?” Carmen asks. “You live with him.”
“Mom doesn’t like Greg. At all.” Holly stops and looks up at her childhood home. Her eyes drift toward the home next door. The “for sale” sign in the yard has a “sold” tag on it. Two families have lived there since Tristan left but neither stayed for long.
Last night, Holly dreamed of him but in a much different way.
They were children, maybe ten or eleven, going to a baseball game. It was so simple, so innocent. Tristan held her hand in the back of his mom’s minivan. She could smell the brownies and their ball gear, could feel his cool skin against hers as he squeezed lightly, their fingers lazily intertwined.
They shared a secret look, hidden in the far back seat because her siblings rode in the middle bench. It felt more like a memory than a dream. Holly woke feeling that familiar hole in her chest, the one she’s spent the past eight years trying to fill with something else, someone else, and anything else.
“Hol?” Carmen peers up into her face. “Earth to Hol? Are we going in?”
“Oh, yeah.” Holly snaps out of it. She leads the way up the steps and knocks on the front door as she opens it. “Mom? Mom, I’m here and I brought my friend, Carmen.”
“I’m in the kitchen,” Carrie Chamberlain sings from the other room. She’s humming and clearly cooking by the sounds of it.
Holly kicks off her shoes and Carmen silently follows suit. They drop their bags in the foyer, much as Holly did as a child. She leads Carmen down the hall to the kitchen. Her mother is bent over the stove, humming to herself.
“Hi, Mom.” Holly slides into a chair at the breakfast bar and leans forward. “It smells wonderful.”
Carrie stands and slides the oven door closed with her hip. She faces her daughter and her smile falters. “You look tired, honey, and too thin and pale. You should be taking better care of yourself. Aren’t you eating? Do you get outside at all? Fresh air would do you some good, I think.”
Holly suppresses the urge to roll her eyes and smiles wider. “I’m fine, Mom.” She gestures to Carmen who’s sitting beside her. “This is my friend, Carmen. We work together at the café.”
“Ah! Carmen, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Carrie glides across the floor to greet Carmen but then surprises everyone by throwing her arms around the woman and gives her a squeeze. “It’s good to know Holly is making some real friends these days.”
Carmen recovers from her surprise at the gesture and pats Carrie on the back lightly. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Chamberlain.”
“Call me Carrie.” Holly’s mom smiles warmly at Carmen. “I hope you two are hungry, I’ve made a lasagna and a strawberry-spinach salad.”
“Sounds great!” Carmen replies enthusiastically. “Can I help with anything?”
“Oh, no.” Carrie chuckles. “Holly, your friend is so polite. You should spend more time with her.”
“Holly spends a lot of time with me,” Carmen assures her. “We work most of our shifts together.”
“Good! Maybe you’ll rub off on her then.” Carrie starts pulling dishes from the drawers and cupboards. “So you both have tonight off work?”
“Yep,” Holly responds simply, watching her Mom for signs of insanity given her current semi-pleasant behavior.
“Did you get all of your papers graded last night?” Carrie asks blandly.
“Yes. It took most of the night.” Holly winks at Carmen to play along. “Some of them were utterly awful, Mom. I handed them back today.”
“That’s for Steve’s class, isn’t it?” Carrie sets the dishes in front of Holly and gestures for her to set the table.
“Yeah.” Holly obliges and sets up three places
“Steve is such a nice young man. He’s so good for your sister,�
� Carrie observes.
“Yes, I like him well enough.” She knows what’s coming. Of course the charade could not last too long, they couldn’t possibly squeeze in one pleasant meal without having this conversation. Holly braces herself for the inevitable.
“I hear that a wealthy man has purchased the house next door,” Carrie begins, “and apparently he’s quite attractive. Perhaps you should introduce yourself.”
“I’m seeing somebody, Mom,” Holly reminds her, “remember, I live with him. Greg is a good man, too. Most people would be thrilled that their daughter is dating somebody who’s going to be a doctor.”
“You always say that, Holly, but he’s not going to be a doctor doctor, he’s just going to all of that schooling so he can get a PhD. to be called a doctor.” Carrie sounds overly exasperated. Most people would be happy their youngest daughter is accomplished in her own right and dating a man who’s motivated to complete so many years of school. But Carrie is not most mothers and she’s never given up on Tristan coming back to whisk Holly away like some damned fairy tale.
Holly exchanges a meaningful look with Carmen who nods her understanding of the situation. “Mom, he’s still going to be a doctor, just not a medical doctor. He’s going to be a psychiatrist.”
“Right. A psychiatrist.” Carrie rolls her eyes. “That will make him ever so useful.”
“Mom, I don’t need a useful man to have a good life,” Holly complains yet again. She’s tired of this conversation.
“You need a man who can provide for you, who’s strong enough to protect you when you can’t protect yourself,” Carrie begins her regular rant. “You need a man to care more for you than for himself because if he can’t put you first now, then what happens when you want to have children? He won’t stay because he will have to be first. It’s how things work, Holly. You should know that by now.”
“How is Brett doing? When is Sarah due again?” Holly employs her usual tactic and changes the subject to the impending birth of her newest niece or nephew.
Carrie’s expression changes to one of pure joy. “Your brother is wonderful. He just got a promotion and he’s coaching the twins’ baseball team this coming spring. Sarah is due in April so the baby will come before the season starts. I cannot believe your brother will have three children!”
“That’s great, Mom.” Holly nods. She takes the salad from the breakfast bar and sets it on the table.
A timer goes off. “Ah. Lasagna is ready!” Carrie flutters over to the oven and pulls the pan out with two old hot-pads. “Sit down, girls.”
Mercifully, dinner is filled with light conversation, no more lectures on the right man, mostly thanks to Carmen who compliments the food, the décor of the house, and asks about Carrie’s small garden. Holly reminds herself several times over to thank her friend later. She vows to bring a buffer more often when visiting her mother.
This is the least stressful visit Holly’s had with her mom since before her dad passed away. Holly’s eyes drift over to his chair, sitting empty at the head of the table. Nobody sits there. The family leaves it empty as an homage to her father’s spirit. She misses him.
“That was a delicious meal, Mrs. Ch – I mean, Carrie.” Carmen inclines her head respectfully and helps clear the table. Holly takes the last bite of her lasagna and stands to clear her own dishes.
“It was really good, Mom,” Holly adds. “I forgot how great your lasagna is.”
“You girls are too kind.” Carrie flushes.
“We’ll do the dishes, Mom. Why not go rest for a bit and I’ll bring some tea when we’re done?”
“That would be nice, Holly.” Carrie’s obvious surprise hurts Holly’s feelings.
“We’ll be out soon, Mom.” Once she’s disappeared down the hall, Holly sets to clearing the table in silence.
“Are we going to talk about this,” Carmen asks, “or just work in silence?”
“I don’t know what more there is to say.” Holly dismisses the line of questioning. “Thank you for keeping her off my ass at dinner tonight.”
“She just wants to see you happy, Holly,” Carmen says gently. “But I understand why you feel as you do.”
“I know she doesn’t like Greg. But do you know what my brother, Brett, does for a living? He is a manager at a home improvement store. His wife is a homemaker. You saw how my mom praised them, how her face glowed when she talked about them. And my sister and the professor? Don’t even get me started on my other siblings.”
Holly struggles to keep her voice low so her mother won’t hear but she can’t hide the hurt. “I’m the youngest, aren’t I supposed to be the baby, the coddled, and spoiled one of the brood? Nope. Not me. She’s hardest on me and has been for years.”
“She loves you, Hol.”
“Maybe.” Holly shrugs and begins washing the dishes. They finish the clean-up in silence. As promised, Holly makes tea for her mother, the bedtime tea she likes so much. She serves it up in her mother’s favorite mug.
They find Carrie in the living room, curled in her recliner with a book in her lap. Holly hands her the tea and sits opposite her on the couch. Carmen opts to stand and look at the wall of family pictures. Every once in a while she points one out, but they otherwise sit in silence, Carrie sipping at the tea and reading her book, Holly studying her mother, and Carmen softening the unease in the room. There is so much unsaid.
Carmen suddenly breaks the silence. “We should go, Holly.” She gives Holly a meaningful look and nods toward the front yard.
“Yeah, Mom, we should get going. I’ve got a long day tomorrow and Carmen is opening the café,” Holly lies smoothly.
“Okay, Holly.” Carrie doesn’t even look up from her book. “Nice meeting you, Carmen. I hope you will visit again soon.”
“I will,” Carmen promises. Her shoes are already on and she’s holding both of their bags by the front door.
Holly balks at her speed and stealth but pulls her shoes on without question. They slip into the night. Carmen whistles, a long, low sound. The response is a series of echoing tweets. Carmen responds with another short, high-pitched whistle.
“They will watch your mother. There does not seem to be danger, the gargoyles were confused by some other supernaturals in the area.” Carmen shrugs. “Better safe than sorry, right?”
Holly exhales a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. “I am just glad to get out of there. I don’t think I could have handled much more.”
“Does she always change like that?” Carmen asks softly.
“Sometimes it’s worse,” Holly answers dully. “It’s been like this since Dad died.”
“I see,” Carmen says it without a hint of pity. “She is heartbroken, Holly. I do not know that there is a way to heal such a thing.”
“I know.” Holly glances at the empty house next door. She wonders when the new tenant will move in. She wonders if this one will ask her mother to tear down the treehouse. She wonders if the secret attic room is still there, if it still holds the etched initials on the back of the door. Holly wonders a number of things as her eyes rove over the overgrown lawn where she’d spent so much of her childhood. “I learned that long ago.”
“Who was he?” Carmen asks.
“Nobody,” Holly answers firmly and heads down the steps to the street.
CHAPTER SIX
“He’s out again?” Carmen reclines on the couch with her feet propped on the back edge.
“Yep.” Holly’s feet are tucked beneath her, watching in awe as Carmen manages to drink her wine in spite of being half way upside down. “He’s out celebrating with the guys.”
“Still with that new TA gig?” Carmen asks.
Holly downs the rest of her wine and leans forward to pour another glass. “Yeah, apparently he won’t be able to go out with the guys once he starts with the new professor because he’ll be working nights.”
“Seeing you is less important? No wonder you’re still dreaming about other guys. I can see wh
y your mom doesn’t like Greg. He’s kind of a dick.”
“He wasn’t always this way,” Holly argues. “He used to care.”
“Mmhmm.” Carmen frowns and pours more wine in her mouth. It’s sort of like watching a table fountain.
“How do you do that again?” Holly asks.
“It’s an elf thing. I don’t know. I can sit up and drink normally if you want.”
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