Page 130 of A Grave Not Made For Mourning
I glance down. “I know.”
Azaire picks up my cheek, meeting my gaze, voice soft. “Then what is it?”
Again, I shake my head. There’s so many words, yet so few will articulate what I mean.
I am a garden of agony, and I should have never planted him here.
“I can’t be the reason someone else gets hurt,” I say at last—what I’ve been dancing around.
It shouldn’t feel this awful to be so well understood. Azaire doesn’t fight me, nor does he have a bit of push back. He knows what I mean.
He knowsme, and he still wants me.
But even that doesn’t dull the blade in my heart, carving out piece after piece.
“If this is all we have”—he cradles my cheek in his hand, and I lean into him—“I refuse to regret it.”
I whisper, “Tell me that tomorrow.”
?
I knock twice on Ms. Ferner’s door. I never used to—never needed to. She always knew I was coming.
I’m sure I would’ve heard if she died, but when she doesn’t immediately answer, I wonder if that was a wrong assumption.
Until she calls, “Come in.”
When I step inside, she’s surprised. She knows we have a history—she only forgetswhywe have one. Why she ever cared to help me.
“Hi.” I try to smile. My only reason for coming is to see if she’s alive.
I fear that she feels that.
“Estridon,” she replies with a nod. “What brings you in?”
“It’s been a while… since we’ve talked.” I shuffle my weight between my feet. “I wanted to ask how you were.”
“I’m the same as I always am, Estridon.” She tips her head toward me, raising an eyebrow. “And you don’t have to ask.”
“I know…”
“Don’t waste my time on niceties.”
“I wanted to apologize,” I blurt out. “We stopped speaking, I should have explained.”
Ms. Ferner steps out from behind her desk, walking toward me. “There’s no need for explanations,” she says. “Our relationship was never personal. I’m your teacher.”
Her mind is a seesaw, tipping with every touch. She doesn’t care for my power, I made sure of that—to protect Azaire. But not caring about my powers doesn’t mean she doesn’t care for me, and it’s left her in an in-between she’s still learning to manage.
“And I wanted to thank you…” I whisper. “You helped me a lot, with my power.”
“Did I?” She stops in front of me. “Because all I recall is you never being able to contain yourself.”
I nod, ducking my head low. “I see.” As I turn toward the door, I say, “It’s good to see you’re okay.”
She releases a small, disgruntled, and unsatisfied “hmph” on my way out.
I thought checking on her—seeing her alive—would make me feel better. Less guilty for what I did to her and how I left things with Azaire. But when I make it to my suite, all that’s left for me to do is fall apart.
