Page 33 of Born for Lace

“They are both so hostile,” I mumble, ignoring a pang of rejection. “I’m alone. Doesn’t she realise that? I’ve never been alone in my life. I always had my Collective, always had friends. Why can’t we be friends? I feel like a petulant child asking this, but I’m tired, and?—”

“I understand.” He smiles kindly, and I sigh, relieved he doesn’t think I’m stomping my foot because no one will play with me. “Friendship is a nice feeling, but you can’t force it. You and Sweets are very different creatures.” He leans forward onto his knees, resting his chin on his clasped hands. “Have you ever been beaten by a man?”

I blink at him. “What?”

“Impregnated and forced to abort it by bathing in boiling water or had your wrist bone broken by a man who was too damn rough?”

My throat thickens.

I shake my head, unable to answer. Not needing to. Tomar isn’t asking for a response, and I feel such gut-wrenching sadness for Sweets and the other House Girls.

“She kept working with that broken wrist,” he goes on, a sad memory sets in his blue gaze. “Don’t worry, that drifter paid with his life. I am not excusing her rudeness.” He lowers his hands to his lap. “Nor do I want to make you feel bad. I’m proud of you, of your courage to care for Spero. Just understand what you look like to people like Sweets. You’re shiny and new. Beautiful in a way that she can never be. It’s not just physical, it is the beauty of innocence.”

I shuffle. He offers praise and compliments with such ease that they are almost believable. Do I thank him? Does he want something for his kind words? No; I don’t think he does. He seems to say things as he sees them. Pretty but plain, is what I thought, but Tomar says I’m beautiful.

Turning my face, I try to hide my blush of pride. It’s embarrassing and obvious.

“You’re alsohopeful. To survivors like Sweets, you have had it too easy. Unfairly easy. She can’t relate to you, and you can’t understand her. I’m not asking for you to put up with mistreatments by her, but simply understand.”

“Okay.” I chew on my lip.

“Okay.” He confirms with a smile. “So, have a look in the basket.”

I kneel on the ground and move a few food cans before finding a bottle filled with little white pills. I can’t read, but I can see the symbol of the Trade and the number 1000 printed on the label.

“Nutrients? For Spero?”

“No. They’re hormones. Getting my hands on that bottle was a miracle,” he says, his tone taking on a more serious edge. “Someone is looking out for you. Those pills could solve your problem.”

Shocked, I barely move. Maybe it’s the sleep deprivation, but I’m not quite following. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

“Hormones,” he repeats. “The Trade often gives them to the Sired Mothers, the women who work in the Trade Nursery, to induce lactation.”

I can feel my frown, because the muscles strain. “You mean…” I have to pause to really sort this information in my mind. “If I take these pills, then I can breastfeed Spero?”

“With those new jars, you have enough formula for another two weeks, tops. It’s when we hit the desert that I’m concerned about. Use some of that innocent optimism, and it might just work. We can only try.” He stands and brushes his finger down Spero’s cheek. “Until next time, Spero. Lagos and I will keep searching for formula and powdered milk in the meantime.”

I am blinking slowly at the small pill in my hand, amazed that such a tiny thing can bring about a lifesaving resource, especially in the desert, when Tomar walks to the door. “Wait.” He stops. “How many do I take? How often?”

“Sorry, I forgot you can’t read. Take two daily. One in the first-light and one before bed. Nothing will happen for at least two weeks, or maybe not at all, but I’ve heard that just having a newborn close to a woman can induce lactation, so hold him a lot. He is yours now, Dahlia.” He reaches out and runs his knuckles down my cheek, the same way he did with Spero. “You look tired. Get some sleep while he does. That’s the golden rule.”

How does he know all this stuff?He drops his hand, and I wonder what it would be like to be held by him. I clear my throat to banish the thought. “But I need to help Tide and bathe while he sleeps. Or I am just…” I can’t find the words in my fatigue.

“A mother,” Tomar finishes.

I sigh, walking backward to the bed, dropping down like my bones are mere straw.

“I wanted a toy for Spero. That’s how it all started with Tide,” I admit. “I wanted a bottle.”

I can feel his gaze on me as I rub my eyes.

“If you need things, you just have to ask, Dahlia. If you can’t find me or Lagos, then look for Beauty. I think she will be kinder to you. You have more in common with her than others. She used to be a Trade girl.”

The sound of the door closing is all that sinks in, my mind already half-asleep.

Sleep when he does…

I lie down on the mattress and curl my knees to my chest. Inhaling and exhaling, finding sleep.

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