Broken Wings

by L-J Baker

  “I wish I could take you home with me,” Flora said. “You, bed, and a big jar of wine.”

  “Tomorrow, babe. Oh, I might be a bit late. I have to visit the library first.”

  Flora looked unhappy.

  Rye stroked Flora’s cheek. “I’ll be there if I have to run all the way. I promise.”

  “I know. I’m just being selfish. I’ll take as much, or as little, of you as I can get. I just wish it was more.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Rye stuffed her shopping list in her pocket and wandered into the hall. Holly knelt on the floor in her room sorting through clothes.

  “I’m off shopping,” Rye said.

  “Okay. I’m going over to Daisy’s after I’ve done the laundry. Dunno when I’ll be back.”

  “Um. Did you want to do something?”

  Holly jumped to her feet to stand at the mirror with a T-shirt held against herself. “Like what? Clean the toilet? No thanks!”

  “No. I meant –” Rye shrugged. “I dunno. Me and you. Doing something together. I could put the shopping off until tomorrow. It’s a nice day. We could go for a walk to the river or something.”

  Holly looked disgusted. “The river?”

  “We used to go there all the time on Fifth Days. Or to the park.”

  “When I was eight years old!” Holly threw the T-shirt aside and grabbed another from the end of the bed. “Wake up, Rye.”

  “Okay. Maybe that’s not very exciting. But there must be something we could do together.”

  “What brought this on?” Holly turned her back to peel off her top. “Not some stupid idea you read about in a limping book? Or something that stupid school put into your head?”

  Before Holly pulled on her new top, Rye noticed that her back still looked smooth. No sign yet of the lumps beneath the skin of developing wings.

  “It’s just that we don’t seem to spend any time together,” Rye said. “Not like we used to.”

  Holly turned to stare at Rye with an unpromising expression. “How can we spend time together if you’re never here?”

  “I have to work. You know that. But I’ll soon be giving up Pansy’s.”

  “I’m not a little kid any more. I have friends. You don’t seriously expect me to hang around with you? You’re an embarrassment. I want the earth to eat me whole whenever any of my friends see you dressed like that. Daisy complains about her mother’s frocks, but I’d take a few floral prints over that any day of the year.”

  Holly pushed past Rye on her way to the living room. Rye sighed and followed. Holly grabbed the rubbish sack with Rye’s dirty laundry in it.

  “Holls, wait.”

  “No way,” Holly said. “This is disgusting enough. I refuse to sort through your clothes to find dirty ones. If they’re not in here, I’m not putting them into the machine.”

  “I didn’t mean that. Maybe we could go to a movie?”

  “Can you afford it?”

  Rye sighed. “You really don’t want to do this, do you?”

  “I’m not a little kid, Rye. I’m sixteen. I have a life of my own.”

  Holly stuffed some of her own clothes into the bag and strode out.

  Rye leaned against the wall. “Crap.”

  Rye stepped on board the transit carpet and paid her four piece fare. She walked back to find a seat. Someone stank of stale booze. She saw a seedy looking man with sprite-like antennae curled up asleep on one of the seats. She could understand the temptation to swill yourself into oblivion. What she didn’t know was how people afforded it. He didn’t look like he held down a regular job. She worked three jobs and didn’t have room in her budget for more than four small jars of beer a week.

  Hollowberry whizzed by the carpet windows in short, dingy bursts between node stops. Tired, harassed people got in and out. Rye kept glancing at the drunk’s shoes sticking out into the aisle. Holly must not end up like that.

  Rye turned away to frown out at the passing forest as she wrestled the unpalatable fact that it was her fault that she’d let things slide with Holly to the point where she was using drugs. She had let Holly down. But she had to find some way of salvaging the situation before Holly’s experimenting took her too close to a brush with the police. Maybe if Holly knew more about Fairyland she might be more careful about risking them getting sent back. Perhaps Holly was old enough to understand some of that stuff. Rye scowled. She had spent most of her adult life protecting Holly and trying to make sure that she need never know about Fairyland. And it wasn’t only Holly she was shielding by never thinking about her life before she ran away.

  Rye left the transit carpet at the Gentian Street node. She strolled past the trendy shops and fashionably dressed shoppers. Even though she’d come this way plenty of times now, she was still aware of sharp glances. It felt uncomfortably like those first anxious, watchful years after she’d escaped from Fairyland, when she’d expected everyone to shout an alarm about the illegal alien.

  Rye turned into Whiterow Gardens. She swiped her key card to open the security gates. She had to wait for the elevating carpet to come to the ground. The door opened to reveal a blue-skinned naiad. She levelled the most transparent stare of disgust at Rye.

  “These are private premises,” the naiad said.

  “Yeah, I know.” Rye’s wings tightened against her back. She lifted the key card for the naiad to see. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to use that.”

  “And who might you be visiting? How am I to know that card has not been stolen?”

  “You could check with Ms. Withe,” Rye said. “Penthouse.”

  “This really isn’t good enough. Trades people must use the service lift. It’s around that way.”

  Rye glanced in the direction the naiad pointed. The naiad continued to block her way. Rye could push past, but that would probably get very ugly. The woman seemed the sort who would scream for the police. Rye sighed and walked around the tree. When she looked back, the naiad stood on the inside of the security gate watching her.

  Rye’s key card worked with the service elevating carpet. She rode it up to the penthouse. The key would not open the inside door. She had to push the buzzer and wait.

  A picture panel burst into life to show Flora’s face. “Hello? Rye! What are you doing in there?”

  The door slid open.

  “Is the elevating carpet out of order?” Flora said.

  “Not exactly.” Rye stepped out into a small service room between the carpet garage and the laundry room.

  Flora put her arms around Rye and kissed her. “What’s wrong?”

  Rye shrugged. “Everything. Crappy morning. Sorry.”

  “Want a drink?”

  Rye remembered the drunk on the transit carpet. “No, thanks.”

  Flora ran her hands up Rye’s back. “You’re as tense as I was last night. Is it Holly? Have you two argued?”

  Rye sighed and bent her neck to rest her forehead on Flora’s shoulder. Flora stroked her hair.

  “Talk to me, lover,” Flora said.

  “Oh, fey.”

  Rye slipped her arms around Flora and hugged her close. Flora felt really good. She was the only good thing in Rye’s crumbling, crummy life.

  “Do you realise that there are people out there who don’t even know us who don’t think I should be allowed to be with you?” Rye said.

  “What has happened? Are you talking about my parents?”

  “No. But it applies, doesn’t it?” Rye sighed. “I thought I got away from being told what I should do, who I should be, and how I should live my life.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m sorry.” Rye released Flora and straightened. “I don’t know why I’m letting everything bruise me today. It’s been a long week. I shouldn’t be dumping it on you.”

  “I think I’m just about strong enough to bear the weight of you leaning emotionally on me this once.”

  “You shouldn’t have to. We have little enough time together as it is.”


  “Life doesn’t always cooperate with the plans of us mere mortals.” Flora clasped Rye’s hands. “Which is why we have to give it a helping hand whenever we can. I did something this morning which I should have done weeks ago. For you. No, for us. To make our lives easier. So that we can spend more time together. And so that you don’t have to wear yourself out with all the walking and working that you’re doing.”

  Rye frowned. Flora smoothed Rye’s forehead with gentle fingers.

  “Don’t look like that,” Flora said. “I know you can be difficult about letting people help you, but this is for us. Both of us. You’ll be able to quit that terrible job at the fast food joint tomorrow. And I’d really like it if you’d reconsider and go back to night school. I’m hoping this will help you do that. And it will help me because I’m going to get to see more of you. I won’t just be squeezed in between three jobs and all your travelling time.”

  Rye accepted Flora’s kiss, but retained her frown. “What are you talking about?”

  “I need more of you. This isn’t just my hormones. This is me wanting you around to share my happy times, and me needing you to curl up next to when I’m sad. At first, snatching time with you was exciting. It added an illicit air to the affair. But now –” Flora sighed and ran her hands over Rye’s shoulders and arms. “Now, lover, I want more than anything in the world for us to be normal. I have to see more of you.”

  “Look, I know that –”

  “I know it’s not your doing. And I understand how things stand with you. Your obligations to Holly. Which is why I’ve done the only thing I could think of to help the situation. For both of us.”

  “Babe, now is not a good time for this. I’ve got some stuff going on that I’m having trouble coping with.”

  “Rye! You’ve not been listening to me.” Flora grabbed Rye’s collar and gave it a gentle tug. “I’m trying to make our lives easier, not harder. Let me show you. Close your eyes.”

  Rye shut her eyes and let Flora lead her out of the room. The last thing she needed right now was more pressure to reallocate her time, or to feel even more guilty that it was her fault she and Flora didn’t spend much time together. Much as she loved Flora, and wanted to be with her, Holly needed Rye more. When Rye had picked Holly up and run away from Fairyland, she had assumed complete responsibility for the kid. She worked to feed them and house them and do her best by Holly. Sometimes, like now, that made her feel like she could barely cope. But it wasn’t something she could just shove aside. Rye didn’t really expect Flora to understand. Flora was an only child and never had kids of her own. She certainly never had any money problems. Why did Flora have to do this to her now? Rye needed Flora to be her island of support and escape, not another source of discord. Especially today.

  They didn’t go far. They walked off carpet onto hard flooring. The air smelled sharp as if an engine had been running on magic in an enclosed space. The garage?

  “Open your hand,” Flora said.

  Eyes still closed, Rye let Flora take her hand and wrap it around something smooth, hard, and cold. A soft, tingling warmth ran from her fingertips to her wrist. Rye frowned. It felt like she’d been scanned.

  “I hope I did that right,” Flora said. “You can look now.”

  Rye opened her eyes. They were in the garage. She stood with her right hand curled around the activation plate on the handle of a shiny new broom.

  “I was tempted to buy a sporty model,” Flora said. “You’d look very sexy on one. But then I remembered you. And, on second thought, I probably wouldn’t want you looking too desirable to other women. Well?”

  Rye flicked her frown from Flora to the broom. “I don’t understand.”

  “It’s for you. The end of your transport problems. So you don’t have to work three jobs to save to buy one. And how you can spend more time with me rather than getting here. It hit me last night, when I was feeling so miserable and lonely after I dropped you home. I went to the showroom first thing this morning. This model has extra wide bristles for maximum carrying capacity. You’ll probably need that when you do your catering jobs.”

  Rye scowled at the broom. “Shit. It must’ve cost thousands.”

  “Don’t think about that. Think about what it means to us. I’d pay ten times as much if it meant a few extra hours a week with you. I know that you have problems with –”

  Rye slipped her hand free and backed up a couple of paces. “You… you just went out and bought this? And expect it to make everything okay?”

  “What? No! Didn’t you hear a word I’ve been saying? I want to solve –”

  “That will not solve my problems,” Rye said. “Maybe riding that will make me more acceptable to people like that bitch downstairs. Or your parents. Is that what you think?”

  Flora frowned and shook her head. “Rye?”

  “You think throwing money at me will make everything okay?”

  “No! Elm. I –”

  “Well, it won’t! Look at me. I’m a poor slob from a slum. I wear cheap, crappy second-hand clothes. That’s all I can afford. But I owe no one nothing. What I have, I’ve earned. No one buys me. No one dresses me up as something I’m not.”

  “Branch.” Flora looked pale and stunned. “You don’t seriously think –”

  “No one tells me what I should be. No one owns me. I’ve been there. Never again.”

  “That’s not what –”

  “I’m never going to be some successful actress dripping money who goes to glitzy parties with you.”

  Flora shook her head. “What are you talking about?”

  “I’ve done everything I could for that kid.” Rye’s hands clenched tight. She turned away from the wall before she put a fist into it. “I don’t know what I did wrong.”

  “Holly? Rye, what is going on here? What has that got to do with this broom? I don’t –”

  “I can’t handle this.” Rye stomped to the hall.

  “Rye!”

  Flora ran after Rye. She grabbed Rye’s arm and tugged her to a halt in the hall near the kitchen door. “Don’t just run out on me. Don’t you think I deserve some explanation for –”

  “I can’t do this any more. I’m not the sort of person who should have the key to your apartment. I’m not –”

  “Don’t I have some say in that?”

  “Your parents won’t think –”

  “My parents have nothing to do with this!” Flora made an emphatic, angry gesture with a fist.

  “Open your eyes! You and I live in different worlds. Your parents are hiring the most exclusive restaurant in the forest for a day! I couldn’t get a job there washing dishes. You’re a famous artist. You’re in books. Complete strangers want your autograph. I’m a nobody from a third-rate building site. You can buy the fucking moon. I can barely afford the transit fare to get here! You live in a world of flash parties and fine wine. I live in a mouldy slum!”

  Flora shook her head. “I’ve never looked at us like that. Never!”

  “It’s taken me months working three jobs to be able to save up for a cheap, second-hand broom. You just went out on a whim and got a new one.”

  “Branch! Forget the stupid broom. We –”

  “Forget it? I can’t forget it! You –”

  “Don’t shout at me!” Flora shouted.

  Rye stood panting with her heart pounding. Flora put a hand to her forehead.

  “You’re making me angry,” Flora said. “You make it sound like I’m trying to buy you.”

  “I can’t be what you want me to be. I can’t be the sort of person who doesn’t notice their stares. Or ignore that bitch down there. I work hard. I don’t have to take that shit. And I’m not going to let your parents laugh at me.”

  Flora drew in a sharp breath. “Is that what you think I’d do to you?”

  “I can’t go to that party. Look at me! This is me. This is all I’ll ever be! No amount of stuff you buy me will change that!”

  “Why would I want t
o change you? I love you. Do you think so little of me that –”

  “I work my guts out! And still it’s not good enough. Do you know how that feels? She’s doing drugs because her life is so crappy. Because I got it wrong!”

  “Holly?” Flora frowned. “What –”

  “I can’t cope with all this.” Rye dug the key card out of her pocket and offered it to Flora. “You don’t need me. Maybe I can still help her.”

  Flora frowned at the key. She made no move to take it. “Rye? You can’t mean –”

  “I can’t do this any more. I can’t. I have to go back to what I can do.”

  Rye dropped the card at Flora’s feet and strode to the front door.

  “No,” Flora said. “Rye! You can’t just –”

  Rye slammed the door behind her and hurtled down the ten flights of stairs two and three at a time.

  “Rye!” Flora’s shout carried from high above.

  Rye slapped her hand to the security panel and yanked open the gates.

  “Rye!”

  Rye ran. Darkness tightened around her. Panic snapped into place and drove her body. Blindly.

  A carpet slammed into Rye’s side and knocked her off her feet. Pain erupted in her ribs. Horns screamed. Rye hit the ground.

  “Hey!” A strange sprite knelt beside her. “You okay?”

  Rye blinked up at him. Her ribs and her face hurt.

  “She ran right in front of me!” a pixie woman shouted. “You saw it! It wasn’t my fault.”

  “Be quiet, lady,” a gremlin man said.

  Rye looked around. She was lying in the road with traffic stopped around her. People were staring. She had no idea where she was.

  “Take it easy,” the sprite man said. “I’ll call for an ambulance.”

  “It wasn’t my fault!” the pixie woman shouted. “You’re my witness. She ran in front of me. I tried to stop.”

  “All right, lady,” the gremlin man said. “Calm down. The police will sort it out. Okay?”

  Rye stared at him. Police? She scrambled to her feet, staggered through a ring of spectators, and ran.

  When Rye stumbled past the massive roots of the busy Oak Heights Mall, she knew where she was. She felt the stares as she waited for a transit carpet, but she didn’t think she could walk all the way home. In her own neighbourhood, nobody blinked at her lurching along with blood on her face and her hand clamped to her side.