I thought someone had stolen the air from my lungs and I wasn’t sure I could get it back. “I think,” the words came out measured, which was a relief, “that I would like more time to think about it before I say one way or the other.” A statement that was in direct contradiction to my feelings.
“And I think we have studied enough for tonight,” Ang said.
As had become the norm, Fin took that as his signal to retire to his room. I sat feeling numb and was somehow surprised when I looked up to see Ang standing before me.
“He does not make the choice to hurt you.”
Understanding that and feeling it were two different things. Ang’s questions came back to me. What would I do without Fin? What would I do without being a Rider? But Fin was going to leave me, he had to. He had to grow up, be aman, live his own life. Even if I left the service, I couldn’t be watching over Fin forever. He wouldn’t thank me for that. Being a Rider, being in the military, these were the only things I knew. I wouldn’t know where to start if I had to start again. At least here, I had support from people who understood.
“I know.” I rose from the chair to faced Ang. “What would I do without you?”
Chapter Seventeen
“Falling is inevitable.”
I was surprised by the words as I reached our rooms several months later. What surprised me more was that it was only half past five in the afternoon, and this was very early for a teaching visit from Ang.
“Control lies only in when, and where, one chooses to meet it. Aerial ballistics exists to ensure that moment is not left to chance.”
Both of them turned from their work to me as I came in.
“Hi,” I said. “Lessons are a little early tonight, are they not?”
“Wingmate Boutros is to work with Fin on his field medic skills this evening, so it was more convenient for me to help Fin earlier,” Ang said.
“You don’t mind, do you, Dad?”
“Of course not.”
Fin looked at Ang. “I do have to go, sorry.”
Ang nodded, and Fin rushed to tidy away his books before running out the door. I’d barely had time to hang up my coat and he was gone.
“Sometimes,” I said, “I wonder where he gets his energy.”
“Youth,” Ang said. “IthinkI remember it.”
That made me chuckle. “You look like you’re still in it. Will you stay to have dinner with me?”
“I do not wish to impose.”
“And I do not wish to eat alone. Again.”
The fire was in the hearth, and I added more wood to it. Driftwood was one of the things that we got in abundance here. It washed up on the leeward side of the island. Sometimes it wastrees damaged in storms, sometimes it was the remains of boats or cargo chests, sometimes it was unidentifiable. But it dried out and it burned. I pulled the skillet across the fire and left it to warm.
“How is Fin doing with the work?” I asked as Ang joined me and took one of the two seats on either side of the fire.
“Slowly,” Ang admitted. “Every other class I have found that he picks things up extremely quickly. But mathematics is his weak point.”
I nodded and took my usual seat opposite Ang. “It always has been. When we were in Pasaocea, the tutor there did not reward achievement, but he shamed and punished failure. Fin always struggled at the speed the man pushed the children too, even though they were so young, and Fin was punished for that. I think it set up a mental block for him that maths just wasn’t his subject.”
Ang nodded. “The theory has merit. I am not sure that I can overcome that, but I can say that Fin, while catching on slowly for him, is not slow in general. I have known many a slower Rider. He will do well in college.”
I nodded. The skillet had been warming, so I drizzled a little oil on it and was rewarded with a satisfying sizzle. Small chunks of oil-and-herb-coated meat went on the iron, plus a few handfuls of small brown mushrooms. I placed a couple of rolls baked that lunchtime by the fire to rewarm. I kept the meat and mushrooms moving around so as not to burn them, and myself relaxing in the warmth, the silence, and the scents that made my mouth water. Without my having to ask, Ang fetched plates and cutlery as the meat finished cooking so I could serve us.
The meat proved tender and succulent. The mushrooms added a nuttiness that balanced the flavour and warmed the belly. When we were done, he insisted on helping me wash up,which felt silly and odd and cosy. Then we sat by the fire and for a while just watched the flames.
“I apologise,” I said at last.
