The birthday dinner was small. Ian, Michael, Tanis and Emily comfortably fit around the probably antique and possibly priceless table Michael kept in his dining room. Michael had had his hand in online auctions since his teens and boasted 99% positive feedback across an innumerable number of reviews and a half-dozen sites. When she’d first returned, his skills had helped Emily get the no-longer-made Polaroid film she’d used to bribe the hare into vouching for the children’s place in the Sidhe. She’d learned enough from him about what the internet had become in her absence that when cute, hip companies started making instant film again she figured out how to buy it online on her own. Michael told Emily he was proud of her, adding “You’re now at grandma web-using levels, instead of caveman.” Michael was kind of a dick.
He was also something of a foodie and had slowly refit his trailer with a better kitchen. The gleaming new appliances somehow still vibed with the antiques and vintage furniture he’d fallen in love with instead of flipping for a profit. He served baked macaroni and cheese, the same thing he’d made five years before, when they would all cram around the scratched old table Michael’s parents had once used.That had been the first time he’d made up his own recipe and Emily thought it was as delicious then as it was now.
Tanis held up her glass of whatever Michael had decided paired well with mac and cheese. “Happy birthday, lady. Thank you for letting me share as much of your life as you do.” Her smile was so spontaneous that it was impossible to tell if she was being passive-aggressive or not. Knowing Tanis, Emily decided her feeling was genuine.
The boys also raised their drinks. The barely underage Ian’s was conspicuously non-alcoholic, which meant he’d probably spiked it.
“To the family you make!” Ian cheered, Michael chiming in. It’d been their motto for years. Emily felt a swell of pride. She’d done all right with these kids. She saw a brief flash of sadness pass across Tanis’ face.
Dessert was perfect. Tanis took a picture of it with her phone, Michael fidgeting about how it looked on the plate.
“Mike,” Tanis was the only person who got to call him that, “why don’t you go to cooking school? You like this stuff enough.”
“I already went to school.” He grabbed up empty plates and set them in the sink. “Two whole years, I’ve a businessy degree and everything. I think you saw me graduate, even.”
“Combining that with cooking though!”
“Eh, I’d rather just enjoy it. The cooking, not the businessing. Selling things online makes me so angry I almost ramp around to joy. And,” he held up a hand to stop Tanis’ reply. “I love money. Anger also keeps me warm. So, I do the online selling and only cook to give me a taste of human happiness.”
Tanis laughed. “Okay Michael, you win. You’ve got half a year before I pick at your life choices again.”
Ian and Emily exchanged glances. They knew the truth behind what Michael was saying. But they were well-practised in changing the subject, something which was easily done by taking their after-dinner coffee to the porch to enjoy the balmy spring night.
Tanis ended up in Emily’s lap and the boys made surprisingly discreet exits, though they could still hear Michael washing up inside.
“I’m sorry I had to nag on you on your birthday. I felt like such a jerk during my whole run.” Tanis leaned her head on Emily’s shoulder.
“It was something that needed to be said.” Emily shifted her head so Tanis’ hair was tucked under her chin instead of in her mouth. “I’m sorry I’m not more open about stuff.”
“Have you thought more about what I said?”
“You asked me this morning, Tanis. I’ve got to think about it.”
“Really think about it, not just say you are?”
“Yeah, will think about it for reals.”
“I will absolutely destroy you if you’re a liar.”
Emily looked down, bringing their faces close. “Likely threat.” Her fingers were in Tanis’ hair. “I do not fear you and your feminine wiles, puny mortal.”
***
After Tanis left, Emily walked from her trailer to the arbour in the shared courtyard. Charred and missing chunks of lattice, it was decorated with both fresh and fake flowers that ran the spectrum from fading to decay. Today’s newest blooms were dandelions and Queen Anne’s lace, the result of Michael’s yard work.
A couple of years earlier, Emily and Michael installed a fake street light in the common yard by the arbour, so they could stop using lawn torches. Emily also thought of it as an ironic literary reference, at least as far as she understood irony. The LED bulb in the lamp shone surprisingly bright, glinting off of Michael’s glasses and pale face where he sat at the base of the arbour, half in-half out of the arch.
“Dawn and Tank called a little bit ago, wishing you well. They got you a birthday present, apparently.” Michael shifted where he sat, trying to find a comfortable position. “But, they don’t know if they’ll be able to get time off in September.”
“Shit.” Emily sat near him, out of the arbour’s shadow.
“Well, it’ll be Tank’s senior year and Dawn is working full time, trying to figure out her master’s degree.”
“Yeah, I know. It’ll just be the first anniversary that everyone won’t be here. Mathilde is in another country, but I was hoping for Tank and Dawn.” Emily sighed. “How are the time debt studies going?”
“Eh, from what info you and Ian have got me, there’s no real pattern or sense to the ratio of time passing in the mundane world to the Sidhe.”
“Figures.”
“Hey, Emily,” Michael cleared his throat. “I want to start renting out units.”
“What?”
“Well, it’s wasteful, everything sitting empty. I mean, I know we don’t need the money.”
“Yeah, not with the accounts you guys inherited, or the envelope stash.”
“Right, but I’d like my position as court manager to be more than making sure you and Ian get your checks to me on time or tidying the lawns.” He frowned. “It’s like play acting. The kind a person does during the end of the world, in some sad attempt to pretend others still exist.”
Emily shook her head. “You read too much sci-fi.”
“You know what I’m saying. It’s creepy here. Everyone is growing up and moving on. Tank and Dawn aren’t going to come back here when they’ve finished school and neither is Hannah. Then you have Abby and Mathilde off in their own worlds.” Michael pulled at the grass while he spoke. Even if Emily was physically his contemporary, she’d known him since he could first remember, bookending his existence. “I’m happy enough here, but going through the motions feels too much like what the Folk do.”
“Dude. That is not comparable.”
“It is, Emily. And I feel like an enabler, helping you maintain this bubble of safety between worlds.”
“Fuck you, Michael.” She wiped at sudden tears, but her voice came out firm. “If that’s how you feel, then fucking fine. I’ll sign what I have to sign if you do three things for me. First, figure out how to maintain the arbour while still shielding it from strangers. Second, you will not rent the trailers any of you grew up in. That leaves you six units free to do whatever.” Emily stood, flecks of mown grass sticking to her bare legs.
“And last?” Michael tried to make eye contact, but quickly looked away.
“Eat shit and die.”
Ian almost tripped over Michael as he exited the arbour.
“Dammit, dude, that wouldn’t happen if you stuck your head in once in a while.”
“I don’t like it in there, also, it’s boring.” Michael mumbled his answer by rote.
Ian took in Michael’s tone and Emily’s stance. He shrugged. “Obvs this is a great time to bring this up, but nobody’s heard from Abby in a bit.”
“How long is ‘a bit’?” Emily’s voice was dangerously soft.
“At least a year.”
“A year?! I was in the Sidhe last week.”
Ian looked startled. “Who sat watch for you?”
No one, I just half-popped in to check on things and tell the hare about one of the new instant films.” She stared both of the boys down. “I need no judgement from either of you and yes, I did ask after Abby and got some mail from her that was recent.”
“There was mail?” Ian looked more worried than Emily would have expected.
Michael peered up at her. “How often do you do this?”
“It was private.” Emily stamped her foot. “And dammit, guys, back off. I’m not going to commit suicide by Sidhe. The issue at hand, other than Michael telling me I’m a nervous, manic episode waiting to happen—”
“Oh, c’mon now.”
“Is that Abby hasn’t been heard of by anyone in a year, her time. The longest she’s ever been out of contact is two months and that was when she first joined the dryads.” Emily folded her arms tight against her chest. “Is there any word of her forest, or the kingdom they’re in?”
Ian shook his head.
“This is bullshit.” Emily looked at the arbour. “Also, it’s late and I open tomorrow.” She turned to Ian, who reflexively took a step back. “What’s your schedule?”
“I’m off tomorrow.”
“Fine. We’ll figure this out when I get home after work.” She stalked back to her trailer, leaving the others in the cold light of the street lamp.
This post is part of The Consoling Divide – Serialised. See the archive and overall content warnings here, and find more of my writing here. I’m over on both Comradery and Patreon, if you feel like supporting my creative endeavours. If you’d like to subscribe to this story, here’s a handy email box for you: