Page 72 of Eat My Moon Dust
“At least the ‘very decorated’ comment jives with the holiday…” I said distractedly as Marcella continued to vent.
Hunar was in charge of inspecting deliveries. My heart skipped, hoping that I’d see him amongst the crowd. I craned my neck this way and that, trying not to give in to disappointment.
Maybe he hadn’t shown up yet, but he definitely would once the sun set and the party really started.
There was no way he would miss it.
26
?TINSLEY?
The gift exchange was finished, and most of the booths were now raffles or makeshift carnival games, having run out of items to sell or trade for. The Winter Festival was a huge hit, and even though it was getting late, everyone was laughing and having fun…
And Hunar wasn’t there.
I’d given up trying to be an adult sometime halfway through the gift exchange and slinked away to comm him, hiding in the shadows of the treeline and the back of Ruth’s booth, lined in little wreaths and mistletoes tied with intricate ribbons. His icon was still on Do Not Disturb, so it was a futile effort, but I still hoped he’d see the missed comms piling up and panic.
But it was just me that panicked, wearing a smile that cracked like old porcelain the longer you looked at me. For once, I didn’t care at all about Marcella giving a speech and thanking me, or all the hugs and tears and people telling me how much it meant to them to have some slice of togetherness.
What I’d really wanted was to share the festival with Hunar and his kids. I’d thought that’s what he wanted too, working his butt off so he could be here, but I must have interpreted him wrong somewhere down the line. I mean, we were different species… Miscommunications were bound to happen, right? I’d never told him directly that being here was important to me.
That level of maturity didn’t make me feel any better though. My heart still ached, and I’d chewed the inside of my lip so hard to keep my sorrow private that it was swollen and tasted like iron now.
Wearing a sparkly ugly sweater despite the muggy evening, I hugged myself and walked down the aisle of amazing displays, staring up at the twinkle lights and the holographic flurry of big, frothy snowflakes that fell on the crowds. That’s what Ferulis had sent Marcella. Snow. It was magical.
But I was done. I had no more joy to spare when I couldn’t even fill up my own coffers. The party would last whether I was there or not, especially with so many people bringing drinks and snacks now. I needed to go home, get some sleep, and forget about Christmas for a few days.
“Hi, Na’maan!”
I shuffled to a stop. “Reha?”
Paintbrush poised above Tahavir’s cheek, she sat at the school’s booth, a little line of classmates waiting behind him for their own designs. Miss Jeong handed out ginger candies and waved, the little bell on the end of her elf hat tinkling as she knocked it.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, flummoxed and not too graceful about it.
Reha’s tendrils danced with excitement. “Putting my makeup skills to good use. Painting faces is a lot of fun!” She pointed towards Pom Pom and Rambir, who wore matching snowflakes with white and blue glitter on their cheeks.
A little bit of the gloom melted away as she started painting her brother’s nose bright red like Rudolph. “That’s awesome,wâpos.Is your… is your dad planning on coming tonight?”
“Hi, Mrs Fareshi!” Miss Jeong interrupted, handing me a ginger candy with a little pair of tongs.
“Hi?” I blinked down at the candy with a stitch in my brow. I’d picked the kids up from school a lot the last few weeks, but surely she knew we weren’t married… right? I took a breath that stung, ready to correct her.
“The festival is amazing,” she gushed. “I’ve never seen the children this happy. Thank you fo-aya!”She dropped a ginger candy into the dirt with a start, then bustled away to get a napkin, her shiny black ponytail swishing across her shoulders.
Alone with Tahavir and Reha beaming up at me, I swallowed my correction and smiled as best I could. Clearing my throat, I redirected my question. I didn’t need to drag them into whatever was happening with Hunar. “Where’s Ladh?”
“Here!” he called, waving a fistful of stockings at me. Thumping to a stop, he held them out for my inspection. “Did the lady spell our names right?”
“Woah, humans can write withstring?!”Tahavir gaped.
The four stockings were quilted in dark red and green with little tufts of yarn hanging from their loops. Each was embroidered in cursive English.Reha, Tahavir, Ladhran, Baan.I brushed my thumb over them and gave him a genuine nod of happiness. Fuck the bittersweet notes. This was about them, not me. “They’re perfect.”
A bright teal, calloused hand set a fifth stocking in my palm. I clutched it with a hitch in my lungs, frozen and staring at the embroidery.Na’maan.
“We spent all day trying to decide how to spell our names inYing’lishi,”Hunar murmured hesitantly.
“English,” I corrected, a sob of laughter bubbling up my throat.
