AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"Sweetie —"
"I'm so happy for you, Drea," she forced out, her tears flowing freely by then. "I'm happy for you, and I'm really sad for me, but one doesn't detract from the other. I'm able to feel both of those things."
Drea glanced back swiftly at the sound of voices, the rest of their party noisily exiting the tea shop. She gripped Mariah's hand, long fingers tightening around her wrist.
"Let's get together this week, okay? I need to tell you about this place. The only reason I didn't say anything sooner was because. . . Well, it's a little embarrassing. I didn't want to upset Elijah, and I didn't even know if it was going to work. But now that we know that it does, you need to try it. I'll give you all the details this week, okay?"
She had no idea what her friend was going on about, but at that moment, Moriah didn't really care. She just wanted to go home. She wanted to go home and cry out her frustration and her envy, and the shame she felt at both.
"This week then."
If there was one thing she was good at, it was holding herself together. She had always been the responsible one, the planner. She was the mom friend, the one who gave advice, who took notes, who packed extras. She didn't throw tantrums or fits when she didn't get her way, and had an excellent poker face. She employed it then, keeping her composure as she got into her car, weaving through town, traversing the short distance back to their housing development, keeping a serene smile on her face as she moved from her car to the front door, raising a hand at one of the neighbors across the street.
It wasn't until the door closed behind her that she broke. Shutting the world out, she crumpled, sliding to the floor with the world at her back, a world full of people who seemed to be able to pop out children with barely any effort. Shewashappy for her friend. That hadn't been a lie. She was happy for her friend and miserable with where her life was currently, the two opposing emotions each clawing at her throat, making her wheeze around her sobs. She didn't know what Drea had done, couldn't fathom what unapproved method of conception she had tried that had worked, and she wasn't sure if her heart could bear anymore disappointment.
She cried until she didn't have anything left in her to cry out, her quaking sobs quieting to shuddering breaths, dropping her head back against the door with a thud. The house — the house she loved, that she had decorated herself, that she was so proud of — was silent, and it was the silence that was so hard to bear. There was no laughter, no shouting, no nothing. The silence was what was going to kill her.
A mitigation of the sorrow.She didn’t know whatmitigationthe invisible voice had been talking about, because her heart certainly hadn’t felt any fucking mitigation.
It didn't matter what it was that Drea had done. It didn't matter, Moriah told herself, closing her eyes and breathing slowly. Her eyes were swollen and her throat stuck. It didn't matter, for the small room beside the master bedroom, the one she had painted a cool mint with dove grey and sunny yellow accents, was still her office, and the house was still silent. It didn't matter what it was, for she knew she would try it. She didn't like the feeling of desperation that accompanied her in her bed every night, but she knew of only one way to kick it out, before the silence choked her.
She would try anything.
* * *
Lowell
“Is there anything elseI can get for you, Mr. Hemming?”
He’d been about to wish the woman a good day, but the sentiment stuck in his throat at her words, a clawing reminder that he was under a magnifying glass wherever he went.
“I’m all set,” he peered at her name tag, “Daronda.”
The troll blinked slowly, her lips quirking back into the smile they had briefly lost when his eyes raised back to hers.
“See? It’s weird when people you don’t know use your name. And besides, Mr. Hemming is my brother.”
“Which one?” she deadpanned back, a bit more chutzpah than he was expecting at the grocery store, but appreciated nonetheless. After all, he was a troublemaker too.
He shrugged, giving her a genuine smile then, one she mirrored.
“Take your pick, probably all of them. Not me, though. I’m a child. And you can call me Lowell. Daronda. See? Still weird!”
The cashier’s laughter followed him out the automatic sliding doors as he left the Food Gryphon, annoyed that he had to spend his dwindling savings on food at all.
