Aftermath - Ann Aguirre [58]
Vel takes a seat opposite me, visibly disturbed by talk of permanent farewell. To see her withered with age like this, it has to be awful for him. She was right to send him away, even if he was lonely, because he would’ve hated seeing her grow old, up close and personal. From the poetry of the story he shared earlier, he remembers the vibrant young woman she was instead of the dying flower she’s become. His claws flex against the arm of the chair, leaving jagged scratches in the polymer.
Adele pretends she doesn’t notice. “Come over here, Jax, and give me a kiss.”
Since she’s the mother I always wanted, I oblige. She hugs me, and her frailty sends a shock of horror through me. Beneath her loose robe, I can feel her bones. She’s brittle like a bird, as if precious little ties her to this life.
“Are you eating enough?” I ask, stepping back.
“Food doesn’t taste good anymore.”
That’s when I know for sure she’s dying. I’ve seen it before, and that’s the unwavering symptom. It hurts me even to think it, but she’ll be gone soon. Vel sits very still, his claws cutting deep into the arms of his chair. But it’s not in me to let people go without a fight.
“You have to try. I could fix you something.” I half rise to go check out her kitchen-mate, but she waves me down.
“No, I’ve seen the end. I’m just happy you came to see me off.”
We should offer to stand deathwatch, but before I can, Vel rises. “We should conclude our business with Dr. Carvati. Then we can return and do whatever is needed here.”
“If you need to go,” I tell Vel softly, “I understand. But I’m going to stay here for a little while.”
He offers a jerky nod. “I will catch up with you later, then.”
Vel springs for the door. When he moves quickly like that, it highlights his alien qualities. But I understand what drives him now. He needs to escape, so I just watch him leave, and when I turn back to her, there are tears in Adele’s eyes.
Heart twisting, I pour the tea and make some toast with her good marmalade. “Do you need anything?”
“I’m fine, child.” Not true, obviously. She’s dying. And she hates that Vel is hurting.
“Did you suspect?”
“That there was something different about him?”
I nod.
“I knew he wasn’t like other men. I had no notion just how special he was.”
“He told me your story. It’s . . . beautiful.” I take a sip of the tea, conscious of how brave and selfless she was to send him away. While they would have had more time together, I don’t know how he could have survived her loss if he’d stayed. Even now, after so many turns, it seems like it’s killing him.
“He’s easy to love,” she replies. “As I think you know.”
Oh, Mary. Does she think I’m trying to replace her? Pain tightens my chest.
“I’m not—I could never—”
“Love him?” For the first time, she frowns at me. “I thought better of you.”
“No, I meant I could never take your place.”
Adele laughs softly. “Oh, you foolish girl. Did you feel March was trying to take Kai’s place?”
“A little. Sometimes.” It’s hard for me to remember the way I fought loving March because I thought it meant disloyalty or betrayal or I don’t know what. I was a mess.
“It doesn’t work that way. Each love is unique. Special. Giving to one never takes away from another.” Those might be the wisest words I’ve ever heard.
I don’t know her as well as Vel does, but when I focus on losing her, I could cry. Because I know she doesn’t want me to be sad, I fight back the tears and finish my snack. This afternoon tea reminds me of the happy times I spent here on Gehenna with her.
“Would you like me to stay with you? Until . . .” There’s no reason for her to be alone at the end. Our business on Gehenna will keep.
“It’s enough you came at all.” She radiates peace now. I feel it flowing from her, as though she has no more unfinished business. If she has pain, it doesn’t touch her any longer, either. “I’d rather be alone, if you don’t mind.”
It’s a dismissal, so I stand, but I don’t want to leave her. “Is your kitchen-mate fully stocked?”
“I’m provided for, and the chair gets me around. Don’t you worry.” Her easy smile absolves