Page 16 of Love the Way You Lion
I’m not surprised.
This ordered chaos is so them—so Lily with her ability to find peace in pandemonium, and so Mercury with his knack for bringing a touch of whimsy to the mundane. It’s a living space thatreflects minds unafraid to blend the fantastical with the logical, the dreamers with the doers.
Carefully stepping over a moat of blankets, I follow Lily to a couch that has miraculously escaped the siege of cushions. She gestures for me to take a seat amidst this delightful disarray, and I oblige, sinking into the cushions. Here, in the heart of their creative chaos, perhaps I can find the answers I seek—or at least the guidance to face the tempest outside. Lily settles into an armchair that’s seen better days, its fabric telling tales of past conversations and spilled secrets.
“Sit down, Sari.” Her voice is even, betraying nothing of her thoughts. She watches me with those knowing eyes that seem to peer straight through the façade I’ve been struggling to maintain. “I got your email earlier, but I hadn’t responded because I hadn’t planned a response yet.” She pauses, tapping a finger against her lips, a sure sign she’s pondering the weight of her next words. “I also haven’t decided if I feel duty bound to share this with...”
“Deli. Yeah, I figured.” I interrupt, a little too quickly perhaps. The idea of facing Deli’s potential wrath makes my stomach clench. It seemed like a better idea to come and talk in person. Face-to-face, where you can see the sincerity in someone’s eyes, or in my case, the desperation. Lily nods slowly, her gaze never leaving mine. She knows the stakes as well as I do, maybe better. And she understands Deli.
I shift uncomfortably on the cushion, feeling every errant feather poke at my thighs. The room is a collage of life’s whimsy and chaos, but Lily’s gaze cuts through it all with surgical precision. “Are you ready to talk now?”
She nods, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Do I need to have this conversation as a friend or as a leader of this community?” Her fingers drum on the armrest, a rhythm searching for clarity. “It’s adifferent hat, see, and I need to know what viewpoint I’m answering from.”
My hand lifts in a playful salute, an imaginary brim tipped in her direction. “We’ll start with a leader. Does that work for you?” I coax a smile onto my lips, willing it to spread to hers—and it does.
She chuckles, and I can see the tension ease from her shoulders, if only just a sliver. “Okay.”
I lean forward, elbows propped on knees, hands clasped as if in prayer. The weight of my words feels like boulders tumbling from my lips. “I’m struggling. I’m struggling a lot and the one constant in my world has disappeared.” My voice catches, betraying the quiver I fought so hard to control.
Her eyes soften, yet she waits, patient as the moon.
“It’s not my fault,” I continue, pressing my palms into my eyes, trying to hold back the flood. “But my brain screams it’s my fault. I have to deal with that.” I drop my hands and look up at her, my plea laid bare. “But I know how to fix it and it’s a good way and I need to do this. Ineedto do this quest, journey, whatever.”
Lily leans back into her chair, the creak of the old wood a stark contrast to the silence that’s settled between us. Her fingers drum on the tabletop, a staccato rhythm that seems to echo my racing heart. I don’t know what she’s going to say, but I’m worried just the same.
“I hear you need this, Sari,” she says, her gaze piercing as she leans forward, forearms resting against the weathered surface. There’s an intensity in her eyes, a focus that commands attention. “But you wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t faced some resistance. You may have found some people in your circle that want to walk this path—whether for you or to get him back—but you’re mistaken if you think everyone will feel comfortable going with you.”
My throat tightens around the words I need to say. It’s true. The resistance has been more than just a few whispers of doubt; it’s been an outright blockade. “You hit the nail on the head.” My voice comes out stronger than I feel. “But I... she has to help. I need her to come with me, Lily. He needs her.”
The earnestness of my plea hangs in the air, vibrating with the silent hope that Lily will understand the depth of my desperation. She sighs, a long exhalation that seems to carry the weight of all her unspoken thoughts. With a graceful motion, Lily sweeps her long hair off her shoulder, letting it cascade down her back like a silken waterfall. She shakes her head, her eyes not quite meeting mine, as if she’s searching for the right words in the cluttered room around us.
“No, you want her to come with you.” Her voice is gentle but firm, laced with an edge of disappointment that cuts through me sharper than any blade. “I think you’re underestimating the number of people who will be uncomfortable with this resolution and what it will do to your relationships with people who have healed their wounds and finished their process to have them ripped back open with a resurrection.” She pauses, her gaze finally locking onto mine, solemn and unwavering. “That doesn’t even account for people’s religious beliefs that might creep in and change their views of both you and Wilde.”
As if anyone here has been worried about that shit before—they definitely have not.
My jaw sets, stubbornness flaring up like a fire within me. Heat prickles at the back of my neck; I can’t let her words deter me. “Come on, Lily!” My retort is louder than I intend, and I see her eyebrows raise just slightly, a silent reprimand. I press on regardless. “These are the same people who’ve been cheering on the cat’s magickal sleight-of-hand tricks for weeks. They’re not that religious.” I throw my hands up, frustration spilling over. “Sowhat if it’s on the dark side? Taurus kills people and no one’s said a peep. He’s swamped with sheep trying to jump into his knickers.” I lean forward, my gaze challenging hers. “Morals aren’t the problem.”
Lily’s brow arches, sharp as a scythe in the dim light of her living room. Her lips part, and from them escapes a hiss, each word a serpent coiling around my resolve. “Why are you here? If you don’t care what will bother people, go on your journey, cleanse your soul, and get him back.”
Her challenge strikes a chord within me, rousing a mixture of irritation and desperation that I struggle to keep caged behind my eyes. “You know why,” I counter, voice firm despite the maelstrom churning inside me. “Why are you so against this?”
My hands clench into fists, knuckles whitening. It’s rare to feel so cornered, so vulnerable. I lean forward, probing for an ally in her, seeking cracks in her composed facade. “You’re not religious, you don’t believe in hocus pocus, and I thought—” There’s a tremor in my voice, betraying the depth of my plea. “—you seemed like the person who’d be the most supportive of me working through grief in the best way possible.”
That’s when the words hang between us, raw and unadorned, a plea for understanding—or perhaps permission.
Lily’s fingers drum against the armrest of her worn-out sofa, a staccato rhythm that somehow reflects my racing heartbeat. She tilts her head, eyes searching mine for something I’m not sure I can give. “Can I switch to another role like a friend, perhaps?” Her tone is softer now, stripped of the leader’s edge it carried moments before.
I shrug noncommittally. Annoyance nips at me, an unwelcome guest gnawing on my patience. Quirky—that’s Lily, through and through. And yet, here I am, splayed out in vulnerability on her cluttered stage, seeking counsel when I only need a specific kind ofsupport. “If you need to,” I mutter, averting my gaze from her piercing stare.
All I require is for her to tell me how to sway Deli; no probing questions, no moral quandaries—just straightforward, unadorned guidance. But with Lily, even the simple becomes complex, every conversation a labyrinth where one wrong turn could leave me lost.
The shift in her demeanor is almost imperceptible, but I catch it—the way her shoulders drop just a fraction, the softening of her eyes. She leans forward, elbows resting on her knees, as if the space between us can be bridged by mere proximity. “I think you’re doing this for another reason,” she begins, her voice imbued with the kind of certainty that comes from long nights spent unraveling the threads of a friend’s convoluted woes.
Her fingers trace an abstract pattern on the fabric of the couch—a nervous habit. “It’s not just to get Wilde back, though I believe you want him back.” The words hang there, yet they are merely the prelude to her deeper insight. “I believe this is more resolution to multiple issues, including your ex-mates, and you’re using a nuke to drive a nail.”
I blink, the unexpected penetration of her gaze making me feel exposed, like she’s managed to peel back a layer I hadn’t even realized I was wearing. “Well, that was insightful for someone who doesn’t seem to pay attention too much,” I say, my voice tinged with forced lightness, an attempt to deflect the weight of her observation.
“It’s possible.” I shrug, trying to appear nonchalant while a tumult of resentment stirs within me. “What makes me angry is that I take care of everyone and I help everyone. I give until I have nothing left.” The words tumble out, raw and bitter, a confession of sorts. “The one time I need payback, people aren’t willing to pay the piper.”
