This morning, when Sam came downstairs for his first cup of coffee, Freya was already sitting on her sofa, fully dressed and sipping her third. He stopped at the foot of the stairs, and I could see the wariness curling in his stomach already. I wonder what was more intimidating to his spirit—the awareness of a Cherub standing in that room with hostile wings spread, or the glint of resolve in his daughter’s eyes.
“Hey, kiddo,” he said. “Thought you said you would be going in to work this morning.”
“I will be,” she said, “but I let Sarah know that I’m going to be a bit late. She doesn’t mind—she didn’t expect me to be in at all today.”
“Well, that’s nice,” Sam said. “You’re lucky to have such an understanding boss. I’ve had quite a few—”
“Why don’t you sit down, Dad,” Freya said, gesturing across to the chair opposite her. It wasn’t a request.
Sam raised his eyebrows. “Sounds like I’m in trouble. Can I at least get some coffee before you read me my rights?”
Freya nodded regally, and he slipped off into the kitchen. In his absence, Freya uncurled her fingers from her mug to watch them shaking.
“You can do this,” I whispered to her. “I am here with you, and you are stronger than your father. Do not let him speak to your weaknesses.”
She sat up straighter and waited through the moments that stretched out. Finally, Sam wandered back into the sitting room and sank into the indicated chair with a sigh. “All right,” he said. “Lay it on me.”
“I’m going to Mom’s for Thanksgiving tomorrow,” Freya said. “It’s not fair of you to expect me to change my plans so suddenly.”
Sam took a long sip of coffee as he absorbed this. “Okay,” he said. “But is it fair to leave me all alone on the holiday?”
“And what about all the holidays that you’ve missed?” Freya asked with some heat.
“Hey, now that’s not fair,” Sam said. “I’ve always called you for the big ones, and for your birthday, which, by the way, you’ve missed mine three years running.”
Freya bit back an angry protest when I put a wing between her and her father. “Calmly,” I said to her. “Do not let him control this.”
She took a breath. “Could you not turn this around on me?” she asked. “You show up at my doorstep without warning, invite yourself in without asking, and interrupt my entire life. I’m telling you that I’m not okay with it, and I’m not going to pretend I am anymore.”
Sam set down his coffee cup. “So you’re kicking me out, is that it?” he asked. “Just like your mother did?”
“You’re choosing to forget that Mom specifically told you that you were welcome to come back anytime,” she reminded him.
He snorted. “On her terms. She’s trying to control me, Frey, and how is that fair?”
“It’s fair for her to control the boundaries of her life. It’s fair for her to expect more from you than phone calls and jokes.” Freya was sitting very rigidly now, her hand clenched around the coffee cup resting on her knee. I put my own hands on her shoulders.
Sam stared at his daughter. However much they may look alike, he was suddenly feeling that he didn’t know her.
“Baby—” he began in a cajoling voice.
“Don’t,” I snapped.
“I’m not a baby,” Freya cut him off. “I am a grown woman, Dad, and I am asking you to respect that.”
“I do respect it!” Sam protested. “What you’ve got going here is amazing, and I’m so proud of you—”
“It is amazing, Dad.” As Freya said that, her heart lifted, and I bent to put my face next to hers, filling her with the pride I feel, a more genuine pride than Sam tried to claim. “It is amazing, and do you know what? I don’t appreciate you telling me that only now when you can take advantage of it. You know that I only see you when you want something, Dad? Last time you visited it was because you needed a loan—which you have not repaid—and before that you were just showing off for your own flavor of the month—what was his name?”
“Careful,” I murmured to her as I saw Sam stiffen. “Bitterness will only multiply in this situation.”
She held up a hand and closed her eyes, trying to calm herself. Sam set his coffee cup down on the table between them. His eyes were glinting now, but with something a bit nastier than resolve.
“Esther’s taught you well, hasn’t she?” he asked. “All right, Freya. I’m sorry that I dropped in and spoiled your schedule. Go on to your mother’s for the holiday. Have fun. But answer me this—did you ever wonder why she surrounds herself with temporary friends this time of year? It’s because she doesn’t have anyone else. She has to have everything her own way, and so she drives people away in droves. And if you’re not careful, you’ll end up the same way.” As Freya took a sharp breath, he gestured around the house. “I mean, really,” he said, “where are your friends, Freya? Where’s your boyfriend? Oh, right, you don’t have one. What’s the longest you’ve hung on to one? A year? Two? I’d be surprised if it was longer than that.”
Freya shot to her feet, but Sam also rose, and his greater height as well as her horror gave him the advantage of a moment, which he took with some relish. “All you really need is one more cat, and you’re all set for a long life just exactly how you want it,” he said. “I mean, why let anyone else in at all? Surely you’re happy as you are, all alone with your principles.”
That was enough for me.
He was so close to Freya that even from behind her, I could reach out and set a hand on the center of his chest. There I felt his anger, knotted so tightly that even he doesn’t know it is there, anger at the world for not suiting itself to his wishes, anger at his life for not going the way he plans, and yes, anger at his family for not easing his way. It was tight and ugly in his chest, and it offended me that he brought that into Freya’s home.
And so I gave him a solid push, and he stepped backwards, staggered into the coffee table, and fell heavily to the ground. He crashed into the chair, which skidded across the floor with a groan of protest, and his coffee cup tumbled onto his chest, dousing him with still-hot liquid. He yelped and began plucking the wet fabric away from his skin.
Freya stared down at him. Her thoughts were reeling, because she knew that he had been pushed, and she equally knew that she hadn’t pushed him.
But before I could reassure her, she began to smile. Whatever I was, after all, I had most clearly revealed myself to be on her side, and the support steadied her. She went into the kitchen and returned with a handful of towels, handing one to Sam and starting to mop up the spill with the others.
“I’m not nearly as alone as you think, Dad,” she said calmly. “And as much as I love you and have always loved you, I don’t need your company when it comes at such a high cost.” She looked up at him. “And so I’m telling you that as long as you are willing to stay and be a contributing member of the family, you’re most welcome. But if you intend to keep coasting through life at my expense, then you need to leave, and don’t come back until that changes.”
Sam didn’t know what to say. Freya handed him the damp towels and got to her feet. “I have to go to work,” she said. “If you decide to stay, we can talk more tonight. If you head out, please leave your key under the mat. I’d really rather not have to change the locks.”
She turned to leave the room, and Sam started up with one more angry protest on his lips. I clapped my hand over his mouth, which he felt as a dart of fear and doubt as sharp as any knife. “You’ve said enough,” I whispered to him.
When I turned around, Freya was in the doorway, looking back at her father curiously. Then she glanced around the room, her eyes sweeping through me. A little strange smile came over her mouth.
“Goodbye, Dad,” she said. She walked deliberately across the hall to the front door, wondering as she did so if her protective shadow would follow.
I did, of course.
She was distracted all through the short workday, thinking about what had happened and what Sam had said. His words about loneliness especially held her attention, because no sooner had he said them than she knew that they were wrong.
“I’m not alone, am I?” she asked the air more than once. And I never answered, but it didn’t matter, because I was there, and she knew it.
I should have left her, should have given her some room for doubt, but I couldn’t. She came home to a dark house, with the guest room emptied of Sam’s things and only the key under the mat and a terse note on the fridge—Sorry to have disappointed you—to show that he had been there at all. Freya wondered if it had been meant sincerely or sarcastically, but then decided it didn’t really matter.
Then she cried, for a long time. I stayed with her, saying nothing at all, because what could I say?
She’s asleep now, and I’ve come back to think about what happens now. She doesn’t really know anything except that I am here, not what I am or why I stay with her. She knows only that my actions are for her good, so at least she is not frightened. Maybe that means that I can stay with her.
I shouldn’t. I should keep my distance to give her mind a rest. But after all the danger of Asoharith still exists, and what about her heart? I cannot let her start to believe that her father’s cruel words are correct. She is too good to be alone in this world.
There is a solution, and I will find it. I just hope I can do so before the critical moment comes between us.