Like my argument with my father, I can’t say everything that happened. It was stupid, ignoble, and animal.
I look at him now, lying still beside me, and I think maybe Aimon was just as scared and frustrated as I was. A different kind of fear and frustration, but it was there.
Somewhere along the line, he decided to let me win. I ended up above him, pinning him.
He didn’t expect me to call Arsepint back, and have the lesser goblin bring me the dropped firearm.
With a gun to his head, he refused to say uncle. To relent in the simplest, smallest way. I think that was when I realized we were the same. There was only us.
And Arsepint. But allowances must be made.
He kissed me, and I kissed him back.
Things went to natural places from there.
I’m enjoying sitting here, watching Aimon’s bare chest rising and falling. He has a bloody nose and it’s making him snore, and I like that.
When I’m writing, dear Diary, I sometimes like to think that you’re communicating with me, when my thoughts clarify and I can jump to new ideas. It’s sad, that I give you an identity, when you’re only one of a long series of notebooks, but I’ll hold to the idea because it makes it easier to put pen to paper.
If you were communicating with me, I’d think you just pointed out how Aimon and I were connected in the heat of the moment. You might be telling me I could have an ally in this. A way to make up for the damage I’ve done to my family with a careless oath.
But Minnie is still fresh in my mind. Trusting the wrong person is a telling mistake, with consequences and damage.
And I think of my first diary, your predecessor. Of Pearl, who offered me an enticement before dragging me off to where I could be beaten.
I don’t know what to do, but it’s a more comfortable sort of doubt. At worst, I have an enemy I know and that’s better than having and knowing nothing at all. My predecessors will have to bear with me.
R.D.T.
2.01
The pen scribbled across the paper.
Weapons. A knife, a larger weapon if I could manage it. A gun would be ideal but hard to find. Different Others had different drawbacks and weaknesses. Ideally I’d be able to pick up an assortment of weapons in a variety of materials. The problem was, I wasn’t sure where I could get those things.
That raised several more questions. I needed a better way to get information. Internet. I needed a way to buy supplies, if my cash reserve ran out. Money.
I switched to another piece of paper, this one headed with the word ‘Needs’. Beneath clothes and a brief shopping list of food staples that would last me a while, I added the two new points about internet access and needing to contact the lawyers. I hesitated, then added other points. Joel’s car and keys, which I had borrowed, needed to be returned, if they weren’t already. Rose needed assistance. I needed allies.
The council meeting was this afternoon. Three hours before sunset and three hours after, I would be free from interference. I needed a way to get some control over this situation. Enemies at the gates, I’d phrased it.
I tried to write down everything I could possibly need or need to do. Stumped, stalled, I put the pen down and stood from the couch, stretching my back where I’d been hunched over the coffee table.
The mirror beside me was empty. My reflection was absent, as was Rose’s. I saw only a living room where the books weren’t quite so scattered, where the shelves were full and no cardboard boxes sat beneath. There wasn’t a pile of dishes in the corner where I’d left them on my side of things. Oatmeal, again. If I didn’t manage a good shopping run, I’d be moving on to wild rice and cans of black beans.
The house felt a little more claustrophobic than it had, before. As large as the house was, it was old fashioned with a very closed concept, every room separated from other rooms by walls and doors. Were it the furniture and furniture alone, I wouldn’t have a problem. But Molly had made a long series of messes in packing up grandmother’s things, leaving the job half done, and her things were still here, untouched. Navigating between furniture and over the boxes and piles of books made me constantly aware of the space around me.
When I had some time, I could do some tidying up. For the time being, though, I had too much to do. I settled for a breather.
I stood in the window, my back against the windowframe, helping to hold the curtains and sheers out of the way.
With my newly acquired second sight, I could make out the spirits that infused everything. Just as I might focus my eyes, I could focus this sight. I could train it. According to Essentials, some practitioners would train their sight to focus on things better suited to their talents. Imagery would take hold.