Page 49 of The Orc's Sweetheart
As I turn onto First Street, I spot a light burning in the corner room of the clinic.
Is Tilly still in her office or did she forget to turn off the light before she left?
I peek through the window of The Bandaged Heart and watch Tilly hunched over a file, furiously scribbling in her notebook with a rainbow of tiny papers strewn across the desk. I can appreciate Tilly’s dedication to her patients, but if she’s so engrossed in a case that she’s stayed here this late, she might’ve forgotten to have dinner too. The least I can do is take care of that for her.
Quietly rushing upstairs, I think through what I have in my fridge. It might not be an extravagant dinner, but I don’t want her to walk all the way back to her cottage in the middle of the night and then still have to worry about preparing something.
I grab a plate and make sure it’s not the chipped one I kept for myself, but rather one of those I collected from Tilly’s house. Thankfully, I bought fresh bread earlier today from The Flowering Teapot, and I quickly throw together a substantial sandwich, then add some grapes and carrot sticks to the plate. It seems that Tilly’s dedication to ensuring I have a balanced meal has rubbed off on me.
I take extra care with my footsteps, trying not to stomp too loudly as I descend, just as Ma has asked me to do since moving into the apartment upstairs. Tilly doesn’t even look up as Iknock softly on the outer door of the clinic, so I push it open slowly and make my way to her office until I’m standing in the doorway.
After a second, Tilly’s head snaps up. “Bodin! What are you doing here?” Her shocked expression quickly morphs into pleasant surprise.
“I brought you dinner.” I hold up the plate in case it isn’t obvious.
“Dinner? What time is it?” Tilly glances at the dark sky through the window, and grabs the back of her neck, stretching what must surely be sore muscles. My hands ache to reach forward and rub her back, massage any tension out her body, until she’s a relaxed heap in my arms.
No Bodin, no touching until you’ve told her everything. Remember the plan.
“It’s really late,” I say lamely, and hand Tilly the plate before settling into a chair across the table. “Please eat something.”
Tilly’s brows pull down and she quirks her head to the side. “How did you know I haven’t eaten yet?”
I shrug. “An educated guess.”
Tilly purses her lips as she waits for me to elaborate, so I explain, “After leaving me with Calixta and Beryl, you came to the clinic to read up on Ren’s file. Judging by the notes strewn across the desk and Ren’s name at the top of the open file, I’m guessing you haven’t moved from your spot.”
“Ah, yes. When you put it like that, it does seem quite obvious.” Tilly’s face lights up as she taps her finger on her open notebook. “I think I’ve figured out some things about Ren, but I’d love to see him in person tomorrow and ask hima couple more questions. I’ll try my best not to make him too uncomfortable, but there might be a way to help him. If he wants help, that is.”
My lips tip up at Tilly’s care for her patients and her sensitivity toward their proclivities. “He’s a kind creature, albeit awkward at times. Please don’t be offended if he’s not receptive to your advice at first. As you know, some creatures tend to find change difficult.”
Something in my voice must give me away, because Tilly reaches over the desk and takes my hand in two of hers. “Does that include you?”
Maybe the plan was to tell her everything tomorrow morning, to bare all my old scars and explain what led to my prejudice, but I don’t want to delay any longer. No matter how cruel the ghosts of my pasts are, I don’t want them to overshadow my future with Tilly.
Even if I have to dredge up each painful memory, I will do so to give Tilly all my truths, to give her my past, my present, my future, every piece of me.
“I owe you an explanation,” I begin, fighting against the knot in my throat. “It’s time you know more about my past and why I behaved so shamefully toward you when you first arrived. I’ll talk while you eat.”
Tilly shakes her head. “I wouldn’t call it shameful. Maybe a touch rude?”
“Whatever it is, it wasn’t okay. Take a bite first, then I’ll start talking.” Tilly makes an appreciative moaning sound around a mouthful of the sandwich. “Good girl,” I rumble out, quickly followed by a mental slap to stay on track.
Tilly doesn’t seem to hear my response as she covers her full mouth to say, “This is delicious. Thank you. I didn’t realize how hungry I was.”
I wait for her to take a couple more bites before I dive in. “I’ve always been fascinated with buildings and applied for a structural engineering degree at Cape Easton University, but I think my experience might have differed vastly from yours there. I got accepted and was so excited to learn everything I could—how to design structures, how to ensure they’re safe and stable against any kinds of weather. I had such lofty goals for myself, for the types of buildings I would work on, but the city was a much harsher environment and the creatures more discriminatory than I expected it to be.”
Tilly sits absolutely frozen, face stoic and shoulders rigid. Her sandwich is paused halfway to her mouth, eyes filled with so much compassion, as she waits for me to continue. Having her whole focus on me, knowing she’s already hearing what I haven’t even said yet has a vise squeezing around my heart.
“Take another bite before I continue.”
She bites obediently into the bread, but chews slowly, attention still riveted on me.
I clear my throat and continue, “It started in my first class in my first year with a small remark here or there—mostly about being from Starry Hill. Questions about if we have power or running water on the island. Things progressed quickly from there, with have I ever been to a ballpark, or a museum, or do we even have schools on the island, and who did I have to fuck to get a place at the university. Questions about my intelligence and my ability to be an engineer if I’ve never been inside of abunch of impressive skyscrapers, never mind the comments on if I can hold a pencil in my big orc hands without snapping it.
“Things escalated to messing with my backpack, notes stuffed into it with terrible messages I don’t want to ever think about again. I tried to ignore all of them, to not give in to my temper and prove them right about any of their assumptions. Once, I tried to join a student club, but wasn’t accepted because it might ‘make the other students uncomfortable.’
“A few of the other nonhuman species experienced similar treatment, especially those looking less notably human, but most of the students’ disdain seemed to be focused on me and where I was from. The message was clear, though, we weren’t welcome in Cape Easton society.
