AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The group was composed of women of various species who lived in the same development, her neighbors, a lunch bunch idea born at a block party and solidified when they had all worked together on a fundraiser to install hanging floral baskets throughout the development to match the color scheme chosen by the residents. It was the most ludicrously suburban thing Moriah could possibly conceive, and she was low-key horrified that she had taken part in it. But, as Drea had pointed out at the time, it got her out of the house.
She watched as two of the other women sniffed, exchanging a fast look, clearly not in agreement with Drea's sentiment.
"In any case, it doesn't matter,” the original speaker huffed. “Rixli's mother said Jack breezed in like he owned the place and shot that down immediately, no further conversation. You know, I really don't know who that man thinks he is. Bossing around the mayor! His son wants to run for office, that’s fine, he can run and be elected on the strength of his positions. Things have changed in this town, and it’s not going to be enough to simply be a part of the old guard. Jack’s notactuallyin charge of anything, and he seems to forget that."
"Be that as it may," Drea pushed on, "if he's squashing ordinances restricting people from living here, more power to him. And if that’s the platform his son is planning to run on, he has my vote. I’ll be happy to have the old guard back, in that case.”
“But if there is a threat to our children—”
“Didn't you just say this araneaen has been here for months? Have anyone’s kids gone missing yet? If he's not bothering anyone, who cares? It’s a slippery slope, is all I’m saying. Today you want to pass ordinances against araneaens, and then what? Outlawing mixed species marriage? Decreeing who can live where and with whom? That defeats the purpose of a mixed-species community.”
The busybody with the connected babysitter sputtered.
“We could go in circles about local politics all day,” interrupted the troll sitting at Drea's left, “but I think we have much more exciting things to celebrate today!”
It wasn't until a bottle of champagne was brought out that Moriah realized the afternoon wasn't going to be as simple and sunny as she had thought when she'd set out that day.
"Now, don't get mad at me," the troll gushed. "But I couldn't help bringing something to celebrate good news, and the owner here was good enough to indulge me."
Across the table, Moriah watched as Drea's cheeks reddened, her eyebrows drawing together first in confusion, then in mortification, her jaw working silently before her eyes flashed up. It was lightning fast, and if she’d not already been watching Drea’s expression, she might have missed it. The look was aimed directly at her, to take her in, to gauge her reaction. It wasn't champagne, she realized. Sparkling grape juice. Nonalcoholic. An uncomfortable flip tightened her guts, her lungs unable to fully inflate as she watched her best friend squirm in her seat.
"Tuley, that's not necessary, I don't want to —"
“Oh, I know you don't. That doesn't mean I'm not going to! We just want to celebrate your happy news!”
Drea flushed as the bottle was passed around, glasses filled. The troll was her neighbor, Moriah remembered, Elijah and the woman's husband were friendly. Heat began to spread up her neck as the troll cleared her throat, swinging her long, frosty silver hair over her shoulder before raising her glass with a beaming smile.
"I'd like you all to join me in a toast. To Drea and Elijah and the little bundle of joy that will be joining their home later this year — Creek Rock Estates will be thrilled to welcome the newest member to our community!"
She managed to get through the toast. She managed to clink her glass amongst the cluster of other glasses raised, was able to choke down the overly sweet juice, sat there with a smile pasted on her face as the others of the table gushed in excitement. A baby. Her best friend was going to have a baby.
Moriah knew that she would be a despicable hag if she were anything but happy. How could she not be? After all, didn't she know, perhaps better than anyone, what Drea and her husband Elijah had gone through? Didn't she know the pain of trying and failing over and over again? Hadn't she heard people tell her for years that if it was meant to be, it would happen on its own? That everything happened for a reason? That this was all some larger plan? That all she had to do was dream and hope hard enough and she could manifest her reality, like she was some fucking fortune cookie and not a flesh and blood person who went through a tiny mourning every month that passed? She'd been told enough times that she was strong enough to withstand any curveball life threw her, otherwise, it wouldn't have been thrown?
She'd bitten her tongue and choked back her frustration for years, wanting to scream that sometimes the curveball hit you directly in the face, managing to restrain herself by the barest thread. She knew Drea had heard the same, so how could she be anything but happy for her friend?Because misery loves company, and pretty soon she's going to be too busy with midnight feedings and changing diapers to hear you cry over not being able to afford IVF.
She lasted through lunch, through more chatter and gossip until the split checks were brought out, and waited for one of the others to push back her chair first.If you're not the first to leave, you can't be accused of running away. The instant the old crone from around the corner stood, shaking out her shawl and draping it over her shoulders, Moriah sprung from her seat, saying her goodbyes with a false cheerfulness and an absolute finality, not allowing herself to be pulled into any further conversation before turning and hurrying to the front of the shop where she checked herself out at the automatic terminal, the little cat watching her every move.
The air outside was thick with an incoming storm, weighing on her lungs, forcing her to take shuddering gasps. She hated herself for being upset. She hated that tears were fast on the heels of happiness she felt for her friend, and the happinesswasthere, it was real. That was what she needed to focus on, she reminded herself. Put on a happy face and get in touch with the genuine joy she felt and survive.Suck it up. You can cry when you get home. You can be as self-indulgent and selfish as you want when you get home.
She was halfway across the parking lot when Drea's voice stopped her.
"Moriah! Please, don't leave like this. Please talk to me. I didn't want you to find out this way."
It had been a boon, finding Drea. Half human, half Sylvan, she was tall and lithe, with nut brown skin and long, honey-gold hair, the golden markings around her eyes catching the sunlight and sparkling like glitter. Drea would power walk around the block every day, arms and legs pumping in tandem and looking like something out of a retro workout video, and she and Moriah would stop to chat anytime she was passing in front of the house when Moriah was outside. They bumped into each other at the library, at the coffee shop, and finally, at the fertility clinic in Bridgeton, sealing their friendship.
It had been a horrible mistake, marrying a man whose biology was incompatible with her own. She knew that now.I fear you've suffered long, little one.She often wondered if she could go back and have a conversation with her younger self, she would've been able to convince her to run away from her own wedding day, to leave Sorben standing beside the lake with their family and friends wondering where she was . . . Or she could've also had a conversation with him beforehand, she would remind herself wryly. Not everything had to end in a runaway bride scenario. She had to remind herself sometimes that they had been happy once, she was sure of it, before things had broken, before she’d become consumed with the one thing it seemed she was destined to not have.
She wanted a baby of her own, more than she’d ever wanted anything else, and the fact that natural reproduction was rare in a marriage like hers had been an inconsequential detail in the beginning. One month turned into two, then four, then eight. The small spare room in their house which had been designated as the future nursery had remained their shared home office, a desk where a bassinet should have been; an ergonomic rolling chair in the spot where she would place sturdy wooden model which rocked, her arms aching to hold a swaddled bundle instead of poised over a laptop. The struggle to conceive had eaten away at the fabric of her marriage, had burned through their savings, and her idealism along with it.
"I didn't know she was planning on doing this.Ididn't even tell her, Elijah mentioned something to her husband, and . . . I didn't want anyone knowing, especially not like this. Please don't be upset."
"I'm not upset," she said quickly, spinning to face her friend, knowing the tears spilling over her eyelashes belied her words. "I'm not, really. I know that wasn't your doing in there. And I'mhappyfor you, Drea, I am."
She wasn't sure what she would have done if she hadn't had someone going through the same thing. She wasn't sure if she would have made it through the crushing disappointment and the innate feeling of failure, month after month. She wasn't sure what she would've done if she hadn't had a good friend to laugh and cry and scream with when her marriage fell apart, buckled under the weight of her singular fixation. It had been the one thing she and Drea had shared in the beginning, and it had opened the door to learning about all the other things they shared, but all along, that was the initial tie that bound them.
"I didn't want you to find out this way, I didn't want this to hurt you. Please don't be mad at me, please just —"
"I'm not! How could I be mad? I'm so,sohappy for you. For you and Elijah both. You're going to be awesome parents." Her tears were threatening to choke her.
