Broken Wings

by L-J Baker

  “Rye –”

  “And boys. You’d get no chance to mix with some stupid kid who messes with drugs and dropouts. You wouldn’t live with any boys. Do you remember that?”

  “No, I –”

  “The men lived in a different compound,” Rye said. “On the other side of the river. You know how you’d meet them?”

  “You’re hurting me.”

  “When you get sent back, you’ll be shoved onto a commune. You’ll work all day, every day, doing stupid, mindless, heavy chores. You’ll have no clothes. No fast brooms. No art. No friends. No boys. No magazines. No dreamweed. No dreams, even. Just mud and sweat and prayers and the stick. That sound good to you?”

  “Let me go!”

  “You’ve got to know! You’ve got to understand what you’re risking! One day, you’ll get your wings. You know what will happen then? Do you?”

  “Don’t shout at me! Don’t fucking shout –”

  Rye shook her. “They’ll take you. The matriarchs. Your mother and aunts. They’ll take you across the river. To the men.”

  Holly tried to break free. Rye’s fingers dug into her shoulders.

  “They’ll take you to the men,” Rye said. “Whether you want to go or not. They’ll put you in a room. You and a bed. You can’t get out. You’ll wait. Scared. Maybe one of your aunts will have cried before she left and given you a kind look. You –”

  “Stop it! I don’t want to –”

  “A man will come for you. If you’re lucky, it’ll be just one.”

  Holly went very still. She lost all the blood from her face and whispered, “Oh, fuck.”

  Maybe it was the whisper, or Holly’s horrified expression, but something triggered Rye’s awareness of how taut she was, how hard her breathing, and how tightly her fingers dug into Holly. Rye took a shuddering breath. She released Holly and stepped back. Holly stared.

  Rye looked around. She was dazed to find herself in Holly’s bedroom. What had she done?

  “Rye?” Holly whispered.

  “Um. Fey.”

  Rye blindly walked out and into the living room. She stood staring at nothing. What had she done? She hadn’t meant to say any of that.

  The next morning, Rye shovelled wood shavings into the barrow. She ignored the banter between Blackie, Knot, and Budge. Maybe she should have stayed at home today with Holly. Holly had barely spoken two words over breakfast.

  She had fucked up good and proper last night. All her good intentions had snapped to nothing. If Holly hadn’t mentioned Flora, maybe Rye could have kept it together. What Rye wouldn’t give to be lying on Flora’s sofa with her, comfortable, sipping a cold beer, and just enjoy being with her. If only the rest of the world did not exist. Just for an hour. But Flora was haggard. Perhaps not nearly as pale and horrified as Holly had looked last night.

  Rye worked hard to make her body ache and hurt. To force her brain to stop thinking about what an utter mess she had made of everything she came into contact with lately. She wouldn’t have been surprised if her new broom stopped on her way to work this morning.

  At lunchtime, Rye chewed her sandwiches and brooded. If she had found Holly visiting Flora unexpected, then Flora must’ve been floored by Holly suddenly turning up at her tree.

  Rye scowled and strode across the street. The pay phone pod had a new picture plate. The next pod was vandalised. She dug a coin out of her pocket, jammed it into the slot, and dialled before she could lose her nerve.

  Beep-beep. “Flora’s mobile messages. Talk to me.”

  “Um. Flora? Babe? It’s me. Rye. Um. I know you probably don’t want to hear from me, but – Look, about Holly. I didn’t know she was going to bother you. I’m sorry. Okay?”

  Rye rammed her fists in her pockets and trudged back to the site. She had not really looked forward to talking with Flora, and yet she felt disappointed at not having heard her again.

  “What you looking so dumpy about?” Knot said. “That broom Berry sell you a dunger?”

  “Nah,” Rye said. “It’s pretty good.”

  “Then you should come to the Ball and Chain on Third Day,” Knot said. “Bunch of us getting together in the afternoon to have a few drinks and watch the game.”

  “Third Day?”

  “Yeah. It’s a holiday. You didn’t forget? Even this worm meat company can’t make us work on Leaf Fall Day. What do you say? If anyone looks like they need a drink, it would be you.”

  “You’re not wrong,” Rye said.

  “That’s the idea. Everyone will be there.”

  When Rye arrived home, Holly was in the bathroom. The strongest floral perfume leaked from under the door.

  “I’m home, Holls.”

  Rye strode to the kitchen. She hadn’t expected a reply.

  Perhaps she could do something with Holly on Leaf Fall Day.

  Perhaps one of those fairs, like they went to with Flora. Holly had enjoyed that. Although, Flora had probably been a greater contribution to that than the fair itself.

  Rye cooked to take her mind off everything. Holly emerged from the bathroom and went into her bedroom without saying a word. Rye plunged nettle stalks into boiling water and burned her hand.

  “Holly? Dinner’s ready.”

  No answer.

  Rye banged on Holly’s bedroom door. “Holls?”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “It’s your favourite. Sparrow’s legs and willow sauce.”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  Rye sighed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said what I did last night. I didn’t mean it. Okay?”

  “Leave me alone.”

  “Don’t you think we should talk about it?”

  “Leave me alone.”

  Rye ran herself a hot bath and briefly toyed with the idea of holding her head under the water long enough to solve all of her own and everyone else’s problems.

  When Rye emerged, Holly’s plate sat on the table with the food half-eaten. Good enough. Rye washed the dishes and drifted into the lounge. She used to be frying sandwiches at this time on First Nights. Now she sat alone in the living room, an unwilling listener to Holly’s sound system through two closed doors. Quality time with her kid sister.

  Rye fetched herself a beer. She made her bed on the couch and climbed in with her night class text. She might as well keep up with her reading. It would come in handy when she took the course again next year. By then, Holly would have started her apprenticeship. Would that make her more or less easy to live with? She wouldn’t have school to whine about. On the other hand, she would probably have a much more active social life – including sex. Rye grimaced.

  Rye finished her beer and lay back to read about accounting. The numbers blurred and her eyes sagged closed.

  Rye ran. Her tunic flapped about her knees. She could not run fast enough. She was being chased. She waded across the river. She couldn’t look back, but they were chasing her.

  Her mother stood in front of her brandishing a stick. Her wings trembled. Afraid or angry? She shouted at Rye. Unnatural. Evil. Should have beaten it out of you when you were young. Should have left you to die when you were born.

  Her mother lay dead in the mud at Rye’s feet. Holly sat crying. Rye bent to pick her up, but then she stood in the robing room at the temple. They had Chastity tied up. Only it wasn’t Chastity. It was Flora. The priestess lifted the whip. Crack!

  Rye jerked awake. It was after ten. Holly was still playing music and the phone rang. Rye stumbled out of bed and grabbed the phone.

  “Hello? Yes?”

  “Rye?”

  “Flora?” Rye felt a rush of wild relief at the sound of her voice. “Oh, babe, are you all right? Um. Fey. I’m sorry. I was having a bad dream.”

  “Dream? You were in bed? Are you unwell?”

  Rye closed the hall door and carried the phone to the couch. “No. I’m fine.”

  “I got your message. I would’ve called earlier, but I thought you worked.”

  “Um. Y
eah. I did. But I’ve quit.” Oh, you sound so good. “Um. Are you okay?”

  “You don’t have to apologise for Holly coming to see me,” Flora said. “I didn’t mind.”

  “What? Oh. That.” I love you. I miss you. It’s killing me to hear you and not be with you. “I heard that you weren’t… um. Oh, shit. Can I see you?”

  “I think we both need some closure. Don’t you agree?”

  “Um. Yeah,” Rye said. “We need to talk. But not like this. I’m crap on the phone.”

  “I know.”

  Flora sounded like she smiled. Rye wanted to cry.

  “My timetable is more flexible than yours,” Flora said. “When would suit you?”

  “Um. How about Third Day? That’s a holiday. I’m not working. I’m sure Holls won’t miss me for a couple of hours.”

  “Fine. My place or neutral ground?”

  Rye winced. “Um. There’s this eating house at the Conifer Street Park. Do you think you could find it?”

  “I’m sure I could.”

  Rye ransacked her empty mind for something to say to prolong the conversation “I –”

  “I’ll –”

  Rye beat her forehead with the heel of her hand. “I’m sorry. You go first.”

  “I’ll see you on Third Day morning, then.”

  “Um. Yeah. Okay.”

  Click. The line went dead.

  “I love you.”

  Rye replaced the handset and slumped. That wasn’t how she’d wanted that conversation to have gone. Why did she always lose her brains at the most important times?

  The next morning, Rye made breakfast and prepared sandwiches for her and Holly for their lunches. When she heard Holly’s alarm go off, Rye poured two mugs of tea. Holly slouched in, dropped in a chair, and pointedly didn’t look at Rye.

  “Do you have any plans for tomorrow?” Rye asked. “Leaf Fall Day must be a school holiday if my crappy company is giving us the day off.”

  Holly grunted and spooned more honey in her tea.

  Rye had wanted a broom, hadn’t she, so that she could spend less time travelling and more time at home? The joys of family breakfasts.

  “Are you still fuming over the other night?” Rye said. “Look, forget it. We’re never going back.”

  “I don’t care about that crap.”

  “Good,” Rye said. “Then why are you so –”

  “Can’t you just leave me alone?” Holly stood in a scraping of chair legs. She stomped into the bathroom.

  Rye sighed and slumped low enough to bang her forehead gently against the edge of the table several times.

  “Women,” Rye whispered.

  That was her problem. All the crud in her life stemmed from women. If she hadn’t been gay, she wouldn’t have broken that prick’s arm when they took her over to the men’s compound, and then she wouldn’t have been sent to the temple for punishment. If she hadn’t been at the temple, she wouldn’t have had sex with Chastity in the robing room. They wouldn’t have been caught. Rye wouldn’t have run away and had her wings broken. Then Rye wouldn’t have bided her time, made her plans, and fled for good. And taken Holly out with her.

  Rye frowned. No, that wasn’t true. She probably would have broken that prick’s arm even if she’d been straight. How could any eighteen year old virgin who was completely sober, ignorant, and afraid, want sex with three men she had never met before?

  Rye shook herself and grabbed her work bag. She had more than enough problems in the present without dredging up the past. She must concentrate her efforts and energies on things she could do something about.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Rye slid her tray along in front of the cubby holes full of food. They had muffins. Flora liked muffins. These looked pretty nasty. Rye had not baked muffins for Flora. She should have.

  “Mum! Mum! I want that, Mum!”

  A small pixie child bumped against Rye’s legs as he strained to point to a sticky cake. Rye shoved her empty tray around to the cashier.

  “Pot of puriri leaf tea,” Rye said. “And milk, please. For two.”

  Rye put her tray aside and found a booth. The jar on the table contained artificial honey. Flora would probably cringe. But this was Rye’s world. It was the kind of place she could afford.

  Rye stared out the window. It was an overcast day with not much wind. Grey and still. Kids played in the park. Excited shouts and squeals carried to the eatery. A couple walked their millipedes on matching red leads. Joggers ran along the walking paths. On the far fields spectators watched ball games. She couldn’t see Flora.

  Someone approached the table. Rye’s heart leaped. And sank. It was just the woman with her tea order.

  Rye arranged the cups. One for her and one for Flora. It didn’t seem real that Flora would be sitting there, across the table, within arm’s reach, in just a few minutes. Rye did so desperately want to see her again, even though she knew they would be leaving as separately as they arrived. Closure. Rye wasn’t exactly sure what Flora meant by that, but it sounded final. That was probably what they needed to do. Perhaps then the hurt might ease.

  A large, boisterous family of sprites entered in a noisy wave. Rye’s glance began to slide away from the doorway when she saw Flora behind the sprites. Flora made eye contact with Rye. Rye felt like someone had smacked her in the chest with a chair.

  Flora wore casual pants and top and a narrow-brimmed hat. She did look pale. Rye wanted to kiss her so much that she ached. After an awkward moment, Flora slid into the booth.

  “You… you found it okay?” Rye said.

  “Yes. There are a couple of games on in the park today, apparently. Something sponsored by the local newspaper. It would have been hard to miss the large signs.”

  “Right. Um. I got tea. Only puriri leaf, I’m afraid.”

  “I’d like that, thank you.”

  Rye poured. “You… you look great.”

  “So do you. How did you hurt yourself?” Flora indicated the fresh scar on Rye’s face.

  “Um. An accident.” When she’d been knocked down by the carpet as she fled from Flora’s apartment. “It’s nothing.”

  Their fingers touched as Rye slid the cup close to Flora. Rye looked up. For a painful moment they stared at each other. Longing. Need. Loss. Hurt. Flora looked away.

  “Um.” Rye fiddled with her cup. “I’m sorry about Holly. I had no idea she was going to pester you. She never said anything until she got back. I… I wouldn’t have let her bother you.”

  “You don’t want me to write the letter for her?”

  “I don’t want her to put you in an awkward situation.”

  “I’m happy to support her applications. I was one of the judges who gave her first prize in her school competition, remember?”

  How could Rye forget? That was when they first saw each other. Rye had been floored by Flora’s beauty. She had even missed Holly’s big moment, thanks to being distracted by Flora. Perhaps that had been an omen she should’ve paid more attention to.

  “I remember,” Rye said. “But I meant because of us.”

  “Holly doesn’t know anything about us, does she? Except what she has guessed. Which, I know you won’t want to hear, is probably a lot more than you choose to believe.”

  Rye frowned across the table. “You didn’t tell her?”

  “I told her that I wouldn’t do anything if you weren’t comfortable with it. I did not tell her that you had recently terminated our love affair. You really don’t have a very high opinion of my regard for the feelings of others, do you?”

  Rye lowered her frown to the table top. “You couldn’t have said anything, or she’d have flayed me with it. I’m sorry. Look, babe, I’m sorry. I didn’t want her to bother you. But I’m very grateful that you can write the letter she wants. I know it will mean a lot to her and do wonders for her application. Thanks. And thanks for not saying anything about us.”

  Flora sipped her tea and stared out the window. Rye gulped half of hers a
nd willed herself not to be so stupid and brain numb. This might be the last chance she ever had to talk with Flora. She was making a right mess of it.

  “Look.” Rye put her cup down and reached across to brush the back of Flora’s fingers. “I really wanted to tell you that I’m sorry. For what I did. And what I said. The other day. You know. I didn’t –”

  Flora looked like she was searching Rye’s face for the end of the sentence. Rye bit her lip and stared down. Somehow their fingers had intertwined. Rye made no move to extricate herself.

  “I need you to finish that,” Flora said. “You see, I haven’t been able to think about much else since you ran out on me.”

  “Um. I didn’t mean to say what I did. I… I didn’t mean to hurt you. And I feel shitty that I did.”

  “I didn’t see it coming,” Flora said. “Didn’t have any shadow of a hint. Like the stereotyped spouse. I thought we were fine. I thought I’d found the love of my life.”

  “Babe –”

  “What did you mean to say?” Flora said. “If you didn’t mean what you did say?”

  Rye bit her lip and stroked the back of Flora’s fingers. “That you’re wonderful. And that I love –”

  “Excuse me, dears.” A waitress stood at the end of the table. “Did you want more tea?”

  Flora slid her hand free. “No, thank you.”

  “I’ll take this then, shall I?” The woman dumped the empty pot on her trolley.

  Rye sighed and ran a hand across her scalp. The noisy sprite family sat in the next booth laughing, whistling, and calling to each other.

  “Can we go outside?” Rye said.

  “I think that would be best,” Flora said.

  Rye followed Flora. Almighty King and Queen of the Fey, she looked good. Outside, Rye fell in step with Flora as they wandered along one of the paths through the park.

  “I’ve been thinking it over and over,” Flora said. “What you said. What I did wrong. Trying to make sense out of it. To understand what mistakes I made.”

  “It wasn’t all your fault. It was mine. Mostly mine.”